Cw: use of a fleshlight in an unconventional way, mean dom!toji, edging (honestly this whole drabble is edging), mention of being bound, pussy smacks, uhhh, unedited and not beta’d
Literally got this idea off of @rinitxshi ‘s toji though. Ily babe enjoy 🫠
Affiliated with @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @angelshub
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!”
Torture. This is pure torture.
Its’s your own fault really. You shouldn’t have made him mad. You’ve just been so bratty lately and today was just the tipping point. You’re too far gone at this point, not even sure what you’re apologizing for as you tug at the binds that secure your wrists above your head.
“Poor baby.”
His voice is rough with arousal, dripping like sinful shadows from his scarred mouth. Something in you clenches and you nod, squirming under his gaze. He’s only indulged you in soft touches, barely there brushes of his fingers over your dripping folds.
They’re swollen, puffy with want and desire. It’s sick and sadistic how he takes pleasure in the way it looks painful, your clit peeking out. It’s twitching, desperate for attention.
Desperate for his attention.
“Bad girls don’t deserve to get rewarded do they?”
You shake your head, another hiccup leaving your chest. What makes it even worse is he’s stroking his cock right in front of you, and you’re unable to do anything about it. You can’t reach out and touch, you can’t take him in your mouth. You’re stuck at his mercy, hips bucking and seeking his attention that he refuses to give you.
“You gonna be good for me from now on?”
You nod, trying not to whine as he circles your clit lightly with the tip of his finger. “Yes! I promise! Toji please! Please!”
“I don’t believe you.” His tone is harsh, words sharp as he lands a hard smack to your cunt. The sound is jarring, clear and loud with a wet squelch as your slick sticks to his hand. Tears race down your cheeks, a choked sob leaving your lips. He leans down, nose barely brushing yours.
Something hard makes its way between your legs, plastic running through your folds. It’s cold against your wet heat, and your lashes flutter, because it’s more relief than he’s given you in hours. Your teeth dig into your swollen lips, already raw and sensitive from how many times you’ve dug your teeth into them.
The stretch of something entering you burns, considering the only touch you’ve had today were teasing ones. Ones that make you buck your hips and search for friction. He’s just so mean.
“Now that… that is a sight pretty enough to maybe convince me to forgive you.”
Looking down you choke on air. He’s inserted a flashlight inside of you, plastic sheathing around it and all. A strange sense of panic floods your veins as he rubs the tip of his leaking cock against it. A chuckle rumbles up his chest at the horror in your eyes.
“Bad girls don't deserve my cock.”
He thrusts so brutally into the flesh light that you scream, feeling the thrust up into your lungs. Your chest cracks open with conflicting emotions and you sob, hiccuping and kicking your legs.
You can’t cum like this. It’s not fair. You can’t feel the ridges of his cock, the way the prominent vein on the underside rubs against your insides. You can’t feel any of it and it shatters you as much as it turns you on. Guilt and lust swirl in the pit of your stomach and your pussy clenches around hard plastic. It’s not enough, you need to feel him inside of you, raw like every time before.
“Ohh poor baby. Miss my cock don’t ya?”
Unable to speak outside of a small hiccup you nod.
“Too bad. Now take what I give ya, and if you’re lucky maybe I’ll let you cum.”
Not once have you strayed from your true purpose—if this is what your creator made you for, then you will fulfil it until your body breaks down.
CONTENT.⠀18+ only, minors dni. HORROR / DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; unhealthy relationship, psychological and emotional manipulation, possessive and obsessive behaviour, non-consensual body modification, conditioning and mindfuck, drugging, kidnapping, sadism, descriptions of anxiety attacks. Dottore is simply referred to as “The Doctor.” DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT | ~2.5k words
A/N.⠀dedicated to my beloved @hiperacid2! this is my first horror/dark fic and it was challenging to write, but i hope you like it, my fellow kindred and kuro hater (/j) // @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @kentocidal
CROSS-POSTED ON AO3
You follow his orders.
If the Doctor tells you to kill, you do so in cold blood. If he tells you to steal something for him, you bring him everything he needs. If he is not pleased with you, you recalibrate and retry the next time he needs you. Like a dog obeys its master, you obey your creator and he rewards you with his praise. Not once have you strayed from your true purpose—if this is what your creator made you for, then you will fulfil it until your body breaks down.
The halls of Zapolyarny Palace’s science wing are silent save for the sound of your footfalls and the occasional murmur from lower-ranked Fatui agents pass by. They do not look into your eyes nor do they greet you. It is not important whether or not they greet you. An agent’s purpose is to do the duty given to him, much in a similar vein to yours, and it is his responsibility not to be hindered by trivial things. The coat you’re wearing covers the lower half of your face and is heavy enough to withstand the unforgiving winters of Snezhnaya, but even then, the air within the walls is cold.
For a reason you haven’t been able to find yet, your body seems to be having difficulties regulating its temperature recently. Perhaps you’d ask the Doctor if he could fix the issue when he’s less occupied with his latest project.
The doors to his laboratory slide open the moment it detects your facial features. It’s dark inside the laboratory; the sun has not yet risen, the only light at this time of day comes from the main city, and frost settles on the glass panes of the window. As you enter, you find that the Doctor is hunched over his desk and that the room is in complete disarray. Papers are scattered across the floor. Beakers and other glassware have shattered into pieces, some of their contents spilling out on documents the Doctor spent hours organising. Your gaze scans every corner and you reach for your sword, about to unsheathe but stop when he speaks up.
“Ah, you’re here, Seven.” He drums his fingers on the surface of the desk, the telltale sign of his impatience. A sigh leaves his lips as he turns around to face you, his lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “Seven, my dear Seven, my prized unit 70-Y…”
He steps closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart and you are staring directly into his mask. There is a strange sensation that travels across your system and once more the temperature beneath your skin spikes in pinpricks of static. Your ears are ringing, your hands are beginning to shake but they’re out of your control. You can’t comprehend what type of error it is and it only gets worse with each passing second. It can’t be an error; the Doctor never makes any mistakes, so it must be a flaw on your end.
“D-Doctor?” you stammer—another error you don’t recognise. “What… What happened?”
“You’ve grown incompetent,” he replies. You can’t tell whether he sees you malfunctioning in front of him or if he’s simply ignoring it for the matter at hand. “My commands for you were quite simple, were they not?”
Your lips part as you try to respond, but no words come out.
“You don’t understand.” It’s more of a statement than it is a question. “My research has been stolen, Seven. You’ve failed your mission in keeping my laboratory exclusive to us.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You try to continue, but your body is unstable, swaying until you find yourself falling to the ground. Your legs don’t move the way you need them to; it’s as though they’ve become rubber and can no longer hold your weight. Weakly, you push yourself up into a sitting position and look up at him. Your vision blurs and instinctively you narrow your eyes to try to focus, to reach out to him. “I…”
“You don’t feel well, do you?”
You can’t see him clearly. Something is different about his tone—the irritation has transitioned into something akin to amusement like he’s aware of something that you aren’t. You don’t understand. You don’t feel. That’s something only humans and animals are capable of. He despises having a human assistant; he needs something beyond human, so he created you. It is the only information about your ‘birth’ that you know.
He lets out another sigh, tone dripping with annoyance once again. “What a bore.”
You detect him staring down at you in the same way he does with his failed projects. You have witnessed firsthand what he does to some of them. They’d get abandoned, their lifeless bodies piled atop each other until it was time for them to get disposed of. Emotions are unknown to you—it’s an area you haven’t explored, but when he ordered you to disassemble all of them with your own hands, you wondered if it could be compared to what humans describe as fear.
Irked and impatient, he clicks his tongue. “Find the thief and kill them. Do not fail me again.” He strides past you and toward the doors, ready to leave but not before he spares you a displeased glance over his shoulder. “And clean this up. You know I hate clutter.”
The Doctor does not return to his laboratory after the incident.
For the past couple of days, you’ve been trying to find the Doctor so you could report your findings but he’s nowhere to be seen. While it’s not unusual for him to go off somewhere without a word, it is out of routine that he doesn’t have you follow him. If he has been sent on a mission by the Tsaritsa, you would know either from himself or one of his segments. You consider asking his fellow Harbingers, but you have also been forbidden from interacting with any of them aside from the Director. All there is to do is your objective and the disposal of the culprit as soon as you can.
The investigation has been difficult. There are no fingerprints you can scan, no notably suspicious trails left behind, and not enough of anything to form a hypothesis. All you know is that the Doctor’s journals are no longer where they are supposed to be. You consider interrogating the guards but decide against it. They cannot provide useful information, not when the responsibility for surveillance is yours.
The only thing clear so far is the motive. Whoever broke into the laboratory needed the Doctor’s notes for a reason, whether it was to expose the moral ambiguity of his experiment or to take an idea for themself. Yet there is no evidence of a break-in; the windows aren’t broken and the security system hasn’t been tampered with. If the culprit truly had intentions of stealing or exposing him, they would’ve taken his most valuable research of all: his studies of the Gnoses. The door to his private library remains locked as well, which simultaneously proves the point and does nothing at all.
You walk through the halls of the palace in silence, attempting to note anyone with suspicious behaviour to no avail. Every face starts to look the same, every voice seems to be monotonous, and the static buzzing beneath your skin returns once again. The discomfort seems to increase with every passing minute of inactivity. Your body feels heavy as if you’re slowly shutting down, out of energy. Have you neglected your self-maintenance? Why have there been errors in your system today?
No matter. Those aren’t of concern now—you’ve been given a mission to complete and you can’t fail him again.
Setting your destination to the laboratory, you decide to do another investigation. There must have been something you missed. A bloodstain, a fingerprint, anything the culprit could’ve left behind in their wake. As you make your way inside, you spot something on the Doctor’s desk that wasn’t previously there: a newspaper. It doesn’t appear to be recent; the date on the corner of the page indicates it’s over a year old.
That’s unusual, you note. He doesn’t like to keep anything unrelated to his work and research.
The article seems to be about an aristocratic family’s activities which makes it all stranger considering his disdain for them. ‘The patriarch, 47, has now become a priest at the Church of Celestia. His heir did not attend the ceremony, most likely due to their dispute with their father earlier this year,’ it says. The names written in the article are mostly unknown, but as you continue to read, you find that something is off.
One of the people in the images looks just like you. Could it be that the Doctor modelled you after them? And if their reputation precedes them just as much as the article describes it, why haven’t you heard of them?
The newspaper nearly rips in half from how hard you clench your fists. You don’t understand why you did it. You aren’t supposed to have a physical reaction. You aren’t supposed to malfunction, and yet your system is out of your control again, the odd sensations spreading across your skin like frost does to water. There is something wrong with you, with everything. But there isn’t supposed to be—he wouldn’t lie to you, would he?
“So, have you figured it out yet?”
The Doctor steps into the laboratory with his arms crossed behind his back, walking with confidence and satisfaction. His expression melts into a scowl when he approaches you. “Hm. Your optical cybernetics aren’t working well anymore. You should’ve been able to detect me coming in.”
“There wasn’t a thief,” you whisper shakily.
“That’s right!” He grins. “And the heir?”
You choke out, “I… I don’t know.”
It couldn’t be you. No. It’s not possible. You’re an android created by the Doctor, the second of the Harbingers. You’re his assistant, his servant. You have always been here with him.
“Has my precious assistant gained sentience?” he coos mockingly, “A flaw in your code, perhaps? An error or a malfunction?”
“That can’t be,” you breathe. You’re suddenly aware of how unfamiliar it is to inhale and exhale, and how it feels as though there’s something lodged in your throat that is suffocating you. “Y-You made me. You never make mistakes.”
He ignores your words as he smiles at you wickedly, his eyes widening. “Isn’t it fascinating to discover something new? To feel something new?”
“How…”
You feel weak. Exhausted. Everything hits you like a storm and you can’t even figure out what any of them are; all you know is that you are afraid. The same man who built you will be the same man to break you.
“I’ve replaced some of your organs with artificial ones. Not sure what you’re missing here.” He feigns annoyance and clicks his tongue, a sound you’ve found to make you feel overloaded. There’s too much happening, too many truths, too many lies. You don’t know what to believe.
“W-Why?”
“Why?” He laughs as if your devastation is humorous to him. His voice echoes throughout the room in a way that makes your skin crawl. “To sate my curiosity, of course! And, well, I have a… fascination with you, Seven. Or should I say—” his laughter dies down and he leans forward, the smile never leaving his face. Then he says a name—your true name, and everything comes crashing down once again.
It’s too much. It hurts. Your breathing is out of order, your mind (you have a mind) is in tatters and all you can do is wail as he rejoices in your torment. There’s a stinging sensation in your palms; when you look down, you find that you are bleeding from how hard your nails have been digging into your skin. Out of fear, you scream and cry until your voice is hoarse, until your energy has been drained, until there is nothing left. When you’re finally quiet and sobbing sporadically, the Doctor kneels beside you and pulls your hair back, forcing you to crane your head to look up at him.
He grins. “I suppose I can consider this hypothesis to be true.”
A sharp, biting pain pierces your neck. The world around you spins and slowly disappears behind a haze. Your limbs feel weak, boneless. Your body succumbs to the poison in your veins, and as you fall farther and farther from the light, the void takes you in its embrace.
You are alone with a woman you don’t know. She is the very epitome of holiness, bringing you warmth and comfort, but there is a sorrowful air about her. You try to ask, try to talk to her, but you can’t speak. With a smile, she holds you in her arms like a mother cradles her child, and she cries. She mourns for her child as droplets of her tears land on your skin, a mark of her grief. She whispers apologies to you, tells you that home doesn’t feel the same, and you mourn together with her over the loss of her only child.
Your world shifts, and you find yourself with a serpent.
It hisses at the air, bares its fangs to something you can’t see. It wraps itself around your frame and softly nudges your cheek with its head, an attempt to comfort you when there is nothing but its presence and yours. It speaks to you in a language you can’t understand with its forked tongue. It coils around your throat when you sleep, both a warning and a reassurance that it won’t leave you alone.
You feel fondness and fear for it at the same time.
Your eyelids slowly flutter as the lid of your sleep pod slides open, exposing you to the bright lights of the room. A masked man is sitting beside you, his lips curved into a joyous smile when he sees that you’re awake. Something is familiar about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.
You feel strange, like you’re forgetting something. It doesn’t make sense. How can you search for a memory you’re not even sure exists? You want to ask, but a glance downwards steals away your attention. Your hands — they’re mechanical, sleek and black metal that goes up to your elbows. Your fingers are long and sharp, undoubtedly made to be weapons. Curiously, you bring it to your eye level to take a closer look; they resemble claws with their pointed tips and sharp edges.
“My dear Artiglio,” he says, watching as you push yourself up into a sitting position. “Are you ready for your first mission?”
Of course. How could you have forgotten?
You serve the Doctor, your creator. With the gift of life and lethality he bestowed upon you, your purpose is clear.
If the Doctor tells you to kill, you do so in cold blood. If he tells you to steal something for him, you bring him everything he needs. If he is not pleased with you, you recalibrate and retry the next time he needs you.
Warnings - fem!reader, alcohol consumption, reader copes in different ways, mentions of sex, no smut
Ignoring everything that's going on around you was a skill you didn't know you possessed until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It was still the same person that always stood there except there was no light behind your eyes. Eyes darker, dark circles more prominent and you could even tell there were some physical changes to your body. You were able to ignore life and all of the issues that were swarming around like a pesky fly that kept buzzing near your ear. You couldn't see it but you knew of its presence.
Turning off your emotions was a natural defense against overloading yourself with the pain and suffering one has to deal with, you once read. It was second nature not to feel anything anymore, you've done it for so long you can't fathom to feel the emotions you once did.
Some people like to read to ignore their problems — traveling to another universe and live a life they wish they led, others like to drink their issues away or even taking pills; not remembering what transpired the night before and swallowing down the substance to send them over the edge of euphoria, body feeling higher than their mind could ever go and not having a proper thought in their head, you — you'd rather let others consume your mind and body, allowing the alcohol in your system to cloud your proper judgment as you allow others to use your body as they wish. Because at the end of the day, you didn't want to deal with what life was like.
It was a routine for you — every time life got too much or if you felt like the world was drowning you from every angle and orifice, sex was the distraction. At first, it was with just anybody that would look your way in a random bar, any poor soul that would fall for the trap you beautifully laid out for them, you felt bad in all honesty. The ones who wanted more from you but could never get it, how could they? You were a shell of a human walking around and snatching up anybody that would come your way. Some would try and see you again, eventually wanting to date but that wasn't what you wanted, far from it.
Your routine was set, no reason to break the habit of drinking to lower your inhibitions. Yet here you were tangled in his bedsheets and breaking every rule you had set for yourself.
Downing another shot, the cold liquid burns down your throat, a comforting feeling really. A smile crept on your face as you already knew what the outcome of tonight would bring. The bartender brings your second shot that you had ordered, the clinking of the glass on the counter being drowned out by the music that was playing around you. You bring the shot up to your lips and knock it back, the burn less significant this time.
Arms snake around your waist while pulling you back against his chest. "Slow down a bit, we have all night." His voice rings lowly in your ear. Your smile grows bigger as you turn in his arms.
"All night hmm?" You giggle as you take in his features.
Mikey was the one who you so helplessly broke your routine for. The exception. He was a friend, an acquaintance really as you two weren't necessarily close, but calling him a friend makes everything easier. He was kind but closed off, as were you although he seemed to be hiding his indifference with the world much better than you were. You had known him for the better part of a year, maybe a little longer, paths always crossing with one another yet nothing ever escalated with either one of you. You knew him and he knew you and that was that.
Once you started hooking up with Mikey everything had gotten easier, no need to try and find someone to numb you from the pain that's called life. The world around you still sucked but you had somebody to distract you from that. It was the right place at the right time when you both eventually hooked up for the first time, alcohol obviously involved and no words needing to be said other than "your place or mine?"
It's easy with him. No feelings, no complications, just sex.
He leans down and kisses you, lips pressed together while his tongue teased your own. He was never one to care about who's around. You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you as you pulled away. "Let's take a shot."
"You want another?" His eyebrows raise while you nod and smile happily knowing he couldn't say no, not to you. He rolls his eyes before looking back down to you. "You're spoiled."
"You're the one spoiling me."
"So you don't want a drink?" He quickly rebuts, eyebrows raising and a smile showing once he sees the pout on your face.
Your arms wrap around his neck while you pull him closer. "I'm sorry."
"How sorry?"
"Very sorry." You lean up and peck his lips. "So sorry that I can't wait to show you how sorry I am later tonight." You could feel the rumble of his chest against yours as he groans, head tipping back before looking at you again.
"Let's get you that shot."
“Shit.” You giggle, tripping into his bedroom. His hand reaches for your waist as he guides you to the bed.
His room is always fairly clean aside from the stray shoes you happened to stumble over. The scent of his cologne wafts through your senses as you lean back against his bed to look at him, a smile gracing your face although Mikey’s expression is solemn. “I told you to slow it down with the shots.” He lifts you up effortlessly onto his bed, the sheets cool against your warm skin causing goosebumps to show. His hands slid from your waist down to your leg until they were resting on your heel, unstrapping the intricate lock that was placed on the back of the shoe.
A pout forms on your face as he finally takes your heel off, letting it fall onto the floor. “Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything.” He lets your leg down and taps on the other, a silent que to give him your other foot. You do as he motions and allow him to take off your other heel. As you watch him you notice his furrowed eyebrows showing nothing but frustration.
His emotions never slip out enough to where you’re able to see it, Mikey is good at that — something you wished you could do, although seeing him slip right now turned something in your stomach that you didn’t quite know. Why is he frustrated?
“Are you mad at me?” You ask with a quiet voice. He looks up at you once your heel is off your foot and back on the floor with the other, his eyes soften once seeing you wary. His voice was calm and there was a slight smile showing although you aren’t sure if it was forced or not.
“Course not,” he says as he opens up his dresser that was beside his bed. He pulls out the first shirt and pair of sweats he sees before tossing them beside you. “Hop down for me.” His hands reach and find a place on your waist before helping you settle back down to your feet and turning you around. You allow him to move you as he wishes, making it easier for him to unzip your dress. The dress slides off your body until it’s pooling around your ankles, you kick the dress to your shoes before grabbing the clothes he had on his bed.
You always liked wearing his clothes; the smell, the warmth it brought you, the comfort. Even being in his room brought you a subtle calmness to the mess of your life that you appreciated. You were at peace here, with him.
Once you’re in his clothes you turn to see Mikey, his shirt has already been discarded and he has already changed into a pair of basketball shorts that hang lowly on his hips. You couldn’t help your eyes as they took him in, everything about him seemed so perfect from an outside perspective.
His hands gripped your sides as he lifted you back up on the bed allowing you to crawl to your side and fall against his pillows.
Mikey watches you as you lay down getting comfortable in his bed. It was something about the way you both have designated sides in his bed that turns something in his stomach he never really understood. It was just sex, that’s what it’s always been and he was perfectly okay with that. It was easy and no bullshit complications came from that but the clouded look in your eyes he always sees makes him wish he could see you more, not just drunken nights or days.
As he gets into bed you’re already cuddling up to him, arms wrapping around his waist holding him close. You let your eyes flutter shut as you melt into his warmth. He sighs out, contently in your ears but to him he was torn.
You feel his hand tuck under your chin, tilting your head up to him.
Just like clockwork.
His lips meet yours and just like the same routine your body seems to move and react on its own, knowing your schedule better than you do.
You get lost in the kiss, head spinning and body tingling where his hands roam your body. His arm slides under you easily moving you to your back, lips never once leaving each other. His hands reach yours, fingers intertwining and pressed firmly on each side of your head. Mikey slowly pulls away, making you chase his lips until he leans back further to look at you. You’re confused, expression distorting and making your confusion evident. He stares down at you and sighs out. “Kinda sucks that I can only have you like this.” He confesses, grip on your hands tightening as if you were going to run away from him at this very moment.
You wanted to.
The words he said were circling in your head, you were trying to process what he meant as fast as you could. Mikey saw the frustration building within you and shook his head, leaning back down to capture your lips in his to make you forget.
No point in breaking something that’s already broken.
Yone usually regrets saying yes to what Kayn or Ezreal rope him in, but this time around, he doesn’t regret it at all.
CONTENT.⠀Idol AU. Tooth-rotting fluff, first dates, hopeful ending because Yone deserves happiness. Requested by @fictionfordays. Hope you enjoy! ~1.3k words
CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 / @angelshub @bitchcraftinc
Yone thinks he’s too old to be putting up with whatever shenanigans Kayn and Ezreal keep pulling him into.
Between promotions, interviews, production, and taking care of the group, he’s dedicated the majority of his time to being responsible and ensuring everything is in tip-top shape. He’s not unfamiliar with having responsibility be the key pillar in his life. Since he was a child, he took it upon himself to be someone his younger brother could look up to. He did everything he could to help his parents, working himself to the bone to ensure his family’s comfort. Not much has changed even when he’s become an idol.
Despite his weariness on some days, he can’t deny that he’s grown fond of his fellow members. He’ll put up with Aphelios’ pranks, Kayn’s ‘forgetfulness’ in doing his chores, Ezreal’s little jokes, and whatever else his life in HEARTSTEEL brings him. He supposes it’s why he found himself saying yes to Ezreal’s idea of a blind date.
Indulging in a silly idea once is harmless, he thinks. Maybe if he just went along, it’ll sate Ezreal enough to leave him be for a while. As happy (well, not really) as he is to indulge in his friend’s antics, he’d also prefer it if Ezreal didn’t bring up the idea every other day. And even if this is just to keep his all-too-enthusiastic friend at bay, he’s also not one to do things halfheartedly. For the first time since his audition, Yone is somewhat nervous.
Meeting new people isn’t all too familiar. He always greets his seniors, juniors, staff, or anyone he may come across on the job. But this isn’t a job, it’s something meant to potentially spark romance in his life which is far from professional. He hasn’t even been on a regular date. He’s well aware of what it usually entails, but he’s never actively sought out this sort of thing. He hopes whoever his date will be won’t feel too disappointed if he doesn’t catch their interest. He knows they’re Ezreal’s friend, but that doesn’t quite narrow it down.
He fiddles with his face mask (for safety measures, really) as he waits for his date at the table. Thanks to Kayn, the street where the restaurant is located is completely silent save for its employees and the occasional unknowing passer-by. He’s not sure what Kayn did—in fact, he’s not even going to ask—but if it means not having to stress as much about paparazzi and overly eager fans, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.
“Gosh, sorry I’m late—Yone?”
Said man looks up from his drink with wide eyes, surprised to see that you’re standing right in front of him. Or, more accurately, one of Ezreal’s best friends, and the fact that both of you are surprised means that the guy’s got more talent for discretion than he let on.
“Did Ezreal put you up to this?” you ask with an amused lilt, taking a seat in front of him. He nods quietly. “Hm. So that’s why he’s been so suspicious lately. Seraphine just told me she wanted me to meet a friend, but well… I didn’t think it’d be you.”
“Are you disappointed?” Yone blurts out.
The corners of your lips curl into a small smile. “No, of course not. I’m pretty happy about it, actually. But what brings you here?”
He doesn’t know you that well, he realises. While you’re always there for the group dinners or parties, he’s never had a proper conversation with you aside from simple hellos here and there. He’s not too familiar with the warmth rising in his cheeks either, but if he has to guess, it definitely has something to do with the way you’re looking at him.
“Ah, well…” He’s not sure if he should say the truth. He’s aloof, yes, but he’s not insensitive. “Ezreal thought I should try something new.”
“Hey, that makes both of us! By the way, I have the same Poro keychain! They’re really cute, aren’t they?”
He feels relieved that you seem to be carrying the conversation just fine even if he doesn’t think he’s great at it. Usually, the extroverts of HEARTSTEEL are responsible for answering interview questions. Yone’s there for the more professional and practical side of things, like speaking to other producers or the company president. As you start to talk about your day, he listens to every word and finds himself getting lost in how much he likes being in your presence. You’re more animated than he is and you still ask about his day even when he doesn’t believe it’s as interesting as yours.
He really likes that about you, he concludes.
“I forgot to mention this, but isn’t this district usually full of people? Why’s it so quiet today?” Your curious expression practically has him melting at how adorable you look. He prides himself on keeping his composure, but your presence alone is making him doubt his ability to be calm.
Yone is never nervous. The only other time he’s felt that way was when he first stepped through the company doors as a trainee. But the longer he sits here with you, his heart races and it’s getting harder to focus when you’re undoubtedly quite a perfect match for him.
(Damn that kid and his ‘super senses.’)
He clears his throat. “Kayn’s responsible for it.”
Perfect . He zoned out thinking about you when you’re right in front of him and he completely forgot to answer your question. Lucky enough, you don’t seem to mind.
“I’m… not sure I want to know the details.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t ask, either.” He chuckles. “I think it’s better not to.”
Your laughter rings beautifully like every song he’s ever loved. Everything feels new, and his thoughts are running a mile a minute, but he thinks he wants to take this jump into spontaneity and adventure with you.
“It’s getting late… I should head back. Gotta be on set early tomorrow.”
“Could we do this again?”
Your features soften into a teasing smile. “You like me already, don’t you?”
“Well, yes—”
“Of course, we can do this again,” you say gently, “I like you too, Yone. You don’t have to be so nervous around me.”
You reach over the table to take his hand in yours and he damn near short circuits at how your hand fits in so perfectly with his. He can barely process the coy glint in your eyes from how flustered he feels.
“I’ll walk you back.”
“Oh, a gentleman!” you chirp, “Now I wish I’d spoken to you sooner.”
The walk to the train station is too short for his liking. He’d really like to spend the rest of the night with you, but you still have things to do and Yone can’t be away for too long lest something happens in the dorm. As if you could sense him sulking, you gently tug on his sleeve and urge him to look at you. Before he can ask, you’re already leaning up to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, an action that has his eyes widening and his heart racing once again.
“I’ll see you again, Yone.”
His face feels like it’s burning as he watches you skip and disappear into the crowd. How can a single person reduce him to such a state so effortlessly? Still, he can’t help but look forward to the next time he’ll get to spend time with you again. He thinks you’re going to be quite the presence in his life and he’s more than happy to let that happen.
Yone usually regrets saying yes to what Kayn or Ezreal rope him in, but this time around, he doesn’t regret it at all. He couldn’t wait to see you again. Maybe without his friends meddling in this time, but he supposes he does have them to thank for leading him to you.
"I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed."
⇢ word count: 1,851 words
⇢ contents: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of war crimes/violence, aot ending spoilers, jean and reader are in an established relationship, dealing with grief, set a few months after the ending
⇢ notes: okay so i got this prompt and i just kinda...wrote it. not sure if it's good. also not sure what's going on here. i'm kind of in a writing funk, but wanted to get something out for my jean baby at the very least! i also kinda suck at writing grief but i hope i nailed it in some way! enjoy!
⇢ prompt credit: @/dumplingsjinson | [ post ]
⇢ tags: @kamorikiri / @juneselfships / @tetzoro | sign up for my taglist here!
Jean is not the type of person to give pieces of himself away.
He hates it. He constantly wishes he’d been more selfish, stayed in that stockroom with his hands over his ears, hiding from the horror that was occurring outside. It seems like any choice he’d made, any connection he’d forged, was bound to be broken eventually. Sasha? Gone. Eren? Gone. Marco? Gone. Lost to the ages. It seems like he’s the only one who's haunted by Marco’s pretty eyes and Sasha’s laugh echoing in his ears. At least with Eren being such a big piece of shit at the end, he can stop feeling bad about that. He knew Connie felt the same, but Connie is also one of the people he’s given a piece of himself to after Sasha died. He can’t get that piece back.
It’s one of the only pieces he doesn’t regret giving away, though.
That, and the piece he gave to you.
The war still haunts him at night, the choices he’d made, the people he’d betrayed and killed all in the name of saving Eren…and they didn’t even save him in the end. Mikasa had taken it upon herself to be the person to lay Eren to rest, by chopped his fucking head off. Not like any of them had much of a choice in the matter, but…it still felt like knives stabbing into his lungs whenever he thought about it.
It felt like a waste. It felt like he’d done so many horrible acts, gotten so much blood on his hands that when he scrapes at his skin he can still feel the warmth of it. The smell of iron still stings his nose at times. He can’t look at the bodies they have to cremate far away from Shiganshina, because those burned bones will certainly never forgive him.
You have truly seen Jean at his worst. Unkempt hair, dark circles under his eyes, cheekbones protruding from his face making him look sullen. You could count on your fingers how many hours of sleep he’d gotten since he’d returned to Shiganshina. Liquor was a common thing to find around him, and he stunk of it in the early days. Night terrors were another common occurrence, but you’d gotten used to waking up and soothing him as much as your sleepy brain could.
You’ve never pushed him to talk about it. Why would you? Grief is a complicated thing, especially with what they had all been through. It’s a miracle Jean’s mind hadn’t collapsed in the aftermath; he’d been well within his rights to do so. You reassure him when you can, but give him space to process. Jean is not the type to talk about his feelings; but you’re lucky to have known him for so long that you know when an episode is coming on.
It’s one of those nights that you wake up to find your shared bed cold.
Something tells you to get up, and you do, resting your warm feet on the chilly wooden floor, shivering at the contact. “Jean?” you call out, not expecting an answer. You don’t receive one, but there’s a brief scent of tobacco in the air that you follow out onto the balcony, pulling a warm robe on and sliding a pair of slippers onto your feet.
Jean is standing outside, a cigarette between his fingers as he stares at the horizon. The moon is shining bright on him, turning his skin silver as he blows smoke into the sky. He looks tired. He’s looked tired for a while, but tonight looks…different. And not in a good way. His shirt hangs off his frame like he hasn’t eaten in awhile. Truth be told, he hadn’t. All the meals you’d made for him had mere bites taken out of them.
And god, the fact that he apologizes for “being a burden” makes you want to shake him so hard he’ll snap out of it. It’s frustrating, to say the least. Why are you apologizing? you ask him, every time he does so, and he fails to have an answer. There’s an unsaid one hanging in the air, in the silence after your voice ceases.
Because I feel like this is all my fault.
It’s not his fault. At least, not solely his fault. It’s the fault of a lot of things, a lot of people, and it’s too messy to iron out. But he won’t stop apologizing for being like this, no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t have to. It hurts watching him go through all of this and being completely helpless. You’re not a grief counselor, there’s not much you can do but be there for him and wait.
You’d never abandon him. Especially not right now.
You resist waiting by the door for him, because that same something forces your feet to move onto the balcony, joining him at his side. You don’t look at him initially, choosing to grab the cigarette from his hand and take a pull yourself. You can feel him turn towards you, eyes going wide, mouth opening, readying an apology like the other countless time he’s done so—
“Don’t apologize, Jean. What’s on your mind?”
You pull smoke into your lungs, feeling the warmth spread through your body as you exhale, the tendrils curling up into the dark night sky filled with pinpricks of white light. The stars were so pretty out here, especially during such a clear night. You’re not expecting an answer here, as always, but you freeze as you hear him sigh.
“I…”
He trails off, turning and facing the field in front of you both again. His arm presses against yours, so close that his body heat warms you as you wait for him to speak again. If he ever does.
This time, he does, and he doesn’t seem to know when to stop.
“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed—”
“Safe, huh?” you glance over at him, and his eyes widen, realizing the gravity of what he just said.
“I don’t mean safe…of course I don’t,” he adds quickly, “I meant more like—”
“No, you’re right.” Your voice cuts through his own again. You can’t help it. You have to shake some sense into him. The nicotine coursing through your veins from the cigarette gives you courage all of a sudden.
“Regardless of how you feel, they didn’t. That’s not to say Sasha or Eren or Marco are at fault, because you can’t blame a dead person for that. But you can’t get those pieces back from dead people. I get it.”
Silence.
You finally look over at him again, and blink in surprise.
There’s big, fat tears pouring down his face, his shoulders shaking as he stifles his sobs. You can’t help but feel your chest ache. How long has he bottled up crying about this?
“I-I just…I don’t want to lose you like I lost them. I can’t go through that again. All I have is you and Connie and Reiner, really, and I just…I can’t go through another death. There’s been too much of it.”
He’s babbling on now, as if your words had cut into him so deeply that you’d broken the dam of his emotions. The cigarette is out now, and you flick it into the ashtray before bringing his face into your hands, pressing your noses together. It’s an intimate moment, and Jean’s shoulders relax in your grip just a little, enough for you to smile. You push up on your toes to whisper into his ear
“Yeah, that’s it. Just relax, baby. I’m here, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice is so soft, gentle, like a salve on his heart. You can feel him slowly relax, more and more so that he’s sobbing into your shoulder, unintelligible phrases falling from his lips as you coo into his ear, rubbing his back.
Because it’s true. You’re not going anywhere. And if you do, you’re taking him with you. It would be sinful to leave him alone like this, and you never even considered leaving him for the entire time since he returned from Marley. You’ll be here for him for as long as it takes for him to be okay again. And if he never is? So be it.
Who could blame any of them for never truly being the same?
Jean cries for a long time. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing outside with him. His tears soak through your robe and night shirt, but you don’t care. Why would you? He’s finally crying. Isn’t that an improvement? You’d heard Reiner hadn’t stopped crying at night since they’d all gotten back. Although, Reiner’s a big baby from what you’ve heard, so of course he’d be the more emotional one.
Eventually, the sobs quiet into whimpers, and then sniffles as he raises his head from your shoulder to look at you again. Your hands card through the hair on the nape of his neck as he smiles at you. The first smile you’ve ever seen on his face, eyes shining with so much adoration for you. This is the Jean you remember. The boisterous, silly, mama’s boy Jean flashes across his face for just a moment, and it feels like you’re in a time capsule.
It’s gone in the next moment, but the smile remains.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you smile,” you whisper, grinning back at him as your hand reaches to brush against his cheek. Jean’s cheeks go red as he averts his eyes, suddenly flustered. “What do you mean? I always smile,” he grumbles, and you shake your head, a giggle falling from your lips. “Don’t be silly, baby, you haven’t smiled in a long time. Doesn’t it feel good?” you ask him, and he sighs.
“Yes. It does.”
“Good. You should do it more.”
“What do I even have to smile about?”
You roll your eyes.
“Being alive? Being with me? Having your friends alive and here to talk to? There, that’s…three reasons already.”
Jean’s smile grows wider. “Thank you,” he whispers, pressing his face into your neck, “for being here for me for all these months. I’m sorry I’ve been such a handful, I just—”
“I know. That’s why I’m still here. You need me, and I need you. I’ll never stop needing you.”
The rest of the night is spent back in bed, snuggled up under the covers. And for the first time in many, many months since he’d been back, Jean sleeps through the night. No monsters come to visit him, not when he’s protected by you, ready to fight off any of the bad memories that try to return to haunt him.
He’s glad he gave a piece of himself to you. He’ll never regret that.
divider credit: @/cafekitsune for the wave divider and mdni banner (check out their canva custom template for custom mdni banners)!
disclaimer: please do not copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!
summary: hanma says he hates autumn. he does. but when he sees you with a warm latte in your hands, a soft smile on your face as you breathe in the pumpkin spice, eyes shut in content, he can't help but feel a little differently about it all.
word count: 978
warnings/notes: gn!reader, fluff, i just like the idea of going on an apple picking date with shuji ;-;
Shuji thinks you're an idiot for liking fall. It’s the beginning of shorter days, chill hangs in the air which forces him to wear more than just his gross oversized white t-shirts and sandals, and everyone keeps bringing up that stupid skeleton dancing video. What sane person would enjoy a season like this? Although he thinks a lot of your enjoyments and hobbies are a little silly, who is he to stand in between a girl and her first pumpkin spice latte of the season (or enjoying fall in general)? He may be conceited, but he’s not an idiot.
"What do you mean?" you had asked him, one hand on your hip while the other grips said latte, brow furrowed. "It's the best time of year! The leaves change into pretty colors, and pumpkin spice lattes come back to the coffeeshop down the road, and I can finally wear my big chunky sweaters again, and we can go pumpkin picking and go to apple orchards and—"
Shuji snorted, taking a drag from his cigarette held lightly between his fingers as he ruffled your hair, grinning. “Yeah, okay, sweetness. I believe you.” From the look in your eyes, that wasn’t convincing enough for you. There’s a devious look in your eyes that makes his stomach feel floaty and tied up in knots at the same time.
“Good, because I've got a cute date planned this weekend, and I don't want to hear any complaining!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”
When he’d agreed to whatever date you’d had planned, he did not envision it being at an apple orchard. The biggest cliché in the world; of course you’d drag him along into one of your silly little ideas. No matter what though, the shine in your eyes when you finally get what you want and he succumbs to your whims makes his heart flutter.
What was even better was watching how meticulous you were when you picked the apples. Since you’d decided to come near the end of the season, many of the ripe, good apples had been taken, leaving most of the worse for wear fruits attached to the lower-hanging branches and the better ones higher up, out of reach. The little scrunch of your eyebrows together as you checked for bruising or worms on your face made Shuji want to press his thumb right there, smoothing it out.
Each tree seemed to have less and less produce hanging from its branches as you both made your way through the orchard. It was quiet, the chill of October settling in as the rain began to peter off, a light fog hanging in the air. You felt pretty irritated; here you were, trying to plan an adorable date where you guys picked tons of ripe, pretty green apples and then went home to bake pies or a crispy apple strudel or some other fall concoction. It seemed as though your plans were being foiled, until Shuji’s voice cut off your train of thought.
“How fast do you think I can climb this tree?”
You looked up in shock. “Shuji, I don’t think we’re supposed to—”
He giggled, hand and foot already on the tree’s thick trunk, ready to scale it.
When did he ever really listen to you?
To be honest, watching your gangly boyfriend scale up the apple tree was quite a sight. He’s all limbs, of course, slipping and sliding against the rain-slicked bark, cursing under his breath as he hoists himself above the branches, resting his back against the trunk of the tree in the middle. He looks quite regal like that, and it makes you lose your breath for a second as you stare in awe at him. His jawline looks good from this angle as he looks around.
“Can you just stay still for, like, ten seconds?” You call up to him. You know the answer already, your cheeks flushed red as your boyfriend laughs.
“Nah, besides, the apples up here are better.”
“Ahhhh, so it was for the apples. A likely story.”
Hearing that he was getting into the date in some way (his own way, of course) did make you a little giddy. You know Shuji didn’t enjoy going on cliché dates like this, but that he enjoyed indulging you with them anyway. Knowing he put up with your antics even if he hated it…it made you feel just that little bit more special to him. Shuji had his own ways of showing affection, and this was one of them. If he could make you laugh, in any way, he’d take that chance, even if it made him look like a fool.
After a few moments, he finally jumps back to the ground, arms full of ripe, pretty apples from the tops of the branches. “Saw you weren’t havin’ much luck on the ground so figured I’d go foraging,” he says, a big smile tugging at his cheeks as he plops them all in the bag you’re holding. Your chest suddenly feels a little tight, tears welling in your eyes as you look at him. His eyebrows immediately scrunch together, worry clouding his own.
“Shuji…”
“What’s wrong, love? You okay?”
“Y-Yeah, I just…thank you for coming with me. I know this is kind of silly, but I used to do this all the time with my family and it just reminds me of when shit was a little more simple, y’know?”
Ah. So that’s why you were so adamant. He gets it now.
Shuji immediately brings you into a hug, setting the apples down on the ground as he presses your face into his warm flannel. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, “I’ll always indulge you. Even if it makes me feel like the cringiest guy on the block. If it makes you happy, I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Really. Don’t push yer luck, though. I don’t got that many cringe dates in me.”
A watery laugh spills out of your mouth as you press a kiss to his cheek.
“Best boyfriend of the fall season award.”
With a big, cheesy grin on his face, he responds with a kiss placed gently on your forehead. “I know.”
#!CC: power play, o.sex (receiving), implications of demonic entities
NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet
The sound of dishes smashing against the floors was deafening as it carried throughout the manor. The splintering shatter of an expensive set caused the three three other house aids to grimace. In the upper room of Ciel Phantomhive, his eyes closed and he sighed, for regret was starting to cloud his mind in hiring you— the new maid. The help to what he’d already deemed, ‘A full house.’
Sebastian bowed gracefully, his head cocked slightly as he smiled.
“I will see to it that the mess will be cleaned young master.”
“Make sure that you do. I have very little patience left.” Phantomhive waved off. Sebastian then walked out shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He pulled at his pristine gloves as he walked down the hallways, a devilish grin splitting his face.
When he’d arrived at the kitchen door he’d picked up on quips of complaints from you and Mei-Ren.
“I’m going to be done for sure this time...” You whined, brushing glass pieces onto a dustpan.
“I’m sure you won’t. The young master is lenient. During my recent years I was such a klutz and Sebastian had to—”
The butler opened the door and the conversation halted with unease in the air. Mei-Ren stood nervously and you kept your head low as your fingers trembled to pick up the rest of the glass. The heat of eyes boring into the side of your head didn’t go unnoticed as they clinked softly together in the pile.
“You may go. I shall handle this.” Sebastian’s velvety voice remained low, his eyes glued on your crouched form. Mei-Ren gave a reassuring glance towards you and bowed quickly. After the haste retreating footsteps, the room was quiet except for the soft sound of tinkling glass shards.
“Stand please,” Sebastian hummed, his red eyes trailing your straned movements; your chest rose and fell slightly and he could hear the quickening tapping of your beating heart. Your eyes looked everywhere but at him, which he found a bit rude but another lesson to be made at a later date.
You clasped your hands in front of your body, ready to endure whatever verbal penalty was sure to be made. This wasn’t your first offense.
Countless of glassware had been destroyed by your hand, not to mention the mistakes you’ve made since you were hired by the young master. From nearly burning down the manor due to attempted meals, to using the wrong chemicals in the garden. All resulting in Sebastian’s stern dispraises. Ciel pegged you to be just as bad as his other servants put together.
Sebastian began to snake towards you, his movements precise and elegant. With ease, he’s stepped through the shards of remaining glass, not even trailing it behind him. As he got closer, you subconsciously shrunk back until you hit the far wall with a small gasp.
Sabastian brought his hand to his mouth, swiftly biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, all the while his gaze never left yours. Leaving the glove on his left hand, he pressed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He picked out the accelerated beating in your chest as his face lowered towards yours.
Sebastian was never going to admit this to any mortal, but he a part of him was looking forward to another slip up from you. Ever since the young lord hired you, your entire essence intrigued him. On more accounts than one, the need for self restraint became nearly intangible whenever you were around. He knew humans were creatures who could not reject temptation. Never had he thought he’d be acting just like them.
His eyes held a dark glint in them as his lips stretched into a grin.
“That set was a favorite of the young lord,”
“I’m sorry! I slipped and I really tried to catch my fall, but I only ended up making things worse.”
“Yes, the ordeal is quite unfortunate,” He continued. “The entire glass set was a precious family heirloom.” The demon lied, which was proven to be effective given the horror stricken look on your face. You were on the verge of tears and your lips parted to let out a soft sigh.
Sebastian brought a finger under your chin, pulling your head up in his direction. For the first time, you were made to look into his piercing eyes and you gulped.
“I’m sure I can come up with a reason for the destruction of the valuables.” His eyes shone mischievously and a second later, it hit you. And he knew that you were not going to reject the offer. In return, his knee slid upwards, dragging out a gasp from you at the sudden movement and the friction against your core. He smirked and lowered his sight to the rise and fall of your chest, zeroing in on your breasts.
“Lift your uniform and turn around.” His order was low and straight to the point, sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back, allowing you to do so and once you were facing the wall, your cheeks heated up in how vulnerable you were now before the butler. A second or so later, you felt cool air hitting your heat and you whimpered, turning your head slightly. You then felt strong hands taking hold on your hips, gripping them in a way that sent dull pain throughout your legs.
“Face the wall.”
Sebastian moved closer, licking his lips at the scent of your femininity. It was different and he was intrigued. His finger hooked through the side of your panties, pulling them taut and exposing your glistening lower lips. He leaned forward, giving you a quick and experimental lick, causing you to release a not-so-quiet cry.
“I would strongly suggest keeping your voice down, yes? We wouldn’t want an audience.” He chuckled before returning his mouth to your pussy. You quickly clenched your uniform dress in one hand as the other covered your mouth, muffling your moans in your gloved hand.
His tongue flattened against you, teasing your clit before trailing back until it disappeared inside of you, writhing and thrusting against your gummy walls. Your body was growing flush as he worked his mouth against you, drawing more and more of your slick.
Sebastian’s movements started off as sensual and graceful, much like his surface personality. But each second his senses spent engulfed in your heat ignited something primal in him. His refined technique was abandoned and replaced with one less coordinated but more enthusiastic nonetheless.
Subconsciously, his fingers dug deeper into your hips releasing more added pleasure than pain. Obscene wet noises arose, synchronizing with your low moans. A hand left your hip to push past your folds and curled upwards, effectively sending a shock through your body resulting in a cry this time.
Sebastian hummed, taking the action into memory and his ministrations seemingly went lazy. At this point, it wouldn’t take much more for you to come and he knew this, doing it again.
His face pushed deeper against you, his tongue nudging your clit and at the same time curling his finger and this is what sent you over the edge.
The noise that escaped wasn’t suppressed behind your palm this time. Your thighs quivered as you calmed down, whimpering as the butler gave you a final few laps before standing. Now more than before, you wanted to feel him, see him, touch him as he ravaged you with what he had to offer.
Turning around slightly, you caught a glimpse of darkness, the air around you suddenly cold. Darkness surrounded you only briefly but you caught a flash of his twisted face in a snarl—a typical refuned features. A shiver ran down your spine, his grip returning but tighter than the last.
“You still refuse to listen.” His breath was ticking your ear, tone menacing but the same velvet that compelled your limbs to relax.
Before you could come up with some half thought out apology, he sheathed his dick into you, grunting softly when he was flush against your ass. Not knowing when he had the time to release himself, you keened at the sudden intrusion as you shifted and tightened around him.
He sighed, strumming his fingers on your hips before pulling out and pushing into you firmly. His movements formed a rhythm as you were rocked against the wall. By now, your hand had fallen from your mouth and was instead placed on the surface in front of you. Movements increasing in speed as well as forcefulness, moans poured from you, wafting through the kitchen and you could only hope that’s where they’ll remain.
Sebastian grunted before yanking your hands behind you, wrists gripped under his one hand with precision at the small of your back. He’s reverted to fucking you with reckless abandon, his own breathing just barely ragged.
You, however were a mess, your vision blurred with wetness, voice producing a low mantra of the butler’s name as a desired pressure began to build up within you. Over and over, his thrusts hit that sweet spot within you that pushed you closer and closer to that moment of bliss.
“What do you think of this lesson?” It was a strange question, at the even most strangest time. It barely processed in your ears and you’re only half inclined to answer in the state you’re in. However, his hand reaches to tilt your head back, face ethereally perfect as golden pools stare into your soul.
“Hnn..?” You couldn’t think, much less articulate any response he was looking but that was alright. He just wanted to drink in the gloss in your eyes as your mouth moves, no words escaping. Your cunt pulsated around him, each stroke drawing more and more of your essence from your body. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wrong to indulge in a bit of the human soul. Not when you were so vulnerable and pliant under his mere gaze. You didn’t see him now. You didn’t see what he’d become again, as the only thing you that surrounded you was the grip of the cold and your cunt being stretched out.
Only when he released you with a low chuckle did the static disipitate and the pressure snaps, his hand quick to hold your cries.
Delicious aftershocks took hold of you, controlling your convulsions as you clenched repeatedly around Sebastian’s cock. You couldn’t see the subtle twist of his features as he approached euphoria as well, his grip icy as he held you against the wall. Following suit soon after, his hot come spilled into you in copious amounts, filling you until it trickled down your thighs.
He pulled out and your legs buckled slightly beneath you before he chuckled and you were spun around.
“Hey now,”
Sebastian was altogether neat. His uniform remained as immaculate as they were when he walked in, white gloves on and pristine. His face retained its usual fair skinned complexion, void of sweat or any indication of vigorous activity.
Meanwhile, you knew you looked a complete mess if it wasn’t obvious. Sebastian cocked his head and smiled warmly, a bright expression that contrasted the devil in his eye.
“Despite how pleasurable this lesson has been, I implore you to exercise caution and heighten your awareness. The young master would not appreciate any more recklessness from you and neither will I.” As he spoke his teeth gleamed only adding to the weight of his words engraved in your mind.
Still you straightened, your hands clasping tightly over your uniform as you nodded curtly.
“Yes Sebastian!”
After that encounter in the kitchen, your mistakes and slip-ups had been reduced to very little occurrences to absolutely none.
“See I knew you’d get the hang of things!” Mei-Ren beamed.
“Maybe I’ll let you cook something small again. Seeing how much you improved and all.” Baldroy had praised, fanning a smoking pot.
Each of the house aids were ultimately pleased you were doing better than you had been before.
Even Ciel seemed content, but not at all surprised knowing Sebastian had a hand in it. The butler was delighted as well, rewarding your improvements with favorable pleasures every now and again.
He still needed to teach you a lesson about listening after all.
DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content— current or archival.
i would like request numbers 38 and 41 in a childhood bestfriends to lovers (?) au with mitsuya from tr! <3
Nightmares
Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Reader
Anime: Tokyo Revengers
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: f!reader, reader has nightmares, takashi is sickeningly sweet in this
Hehehehe I finally finished this, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥹🥹 Feel free to request more!
Prompt List
You thought you had this under control, you really did, but the sweat on your palms and the way your breathing is staggered says otherwise. You’re usually able to calm yourself down and get back to sleep in an okay state, but you just couldn’t stop shaking, your heart was beating out of your chest and nothing you did could calm the static you felt in your body. Everything was tingly, it felt uncomfortable being in your bed, you felt uncomfortable being in your room, the nightmare that stays raging through your mind caused your cozy dimly lit room to form the terrors.
You didn’t want to resort to this but your body and feet willed you up and out of your bed. Fingers frantically turning your lights on causing your once dark room to be bright once again. The heartbeat that was once thumping in your ears had subsided, you could feel yourself calm down, though the shakiness in your body never settled. You stepped out of your room and walked to the opposite end of the apartment, feet shuffling quickly as the darkness in the apartment consumed you and you found yourself slipping in your roommate's room and closing the door faster than you meant to. The door shuts loudly and you mentally curse yourself and can only hope that you didn’t wake him up. You’re grateful his door was cracked open, it always is but you can only imagine how much louder you would’ve been if you had to open his door as well. You turn slowly, seeing his led lights glowing around his room brings a comfortable aura around you that the sigh that escapes you couldn’t be helped. You see Mitsuya sleeping peacefully, his head turned against his pillow and blankets covering most of his chest, you can’t help but feel bad for coming in unannounced now.
Mitsuya Takashi was your roommate for about two years now, though you’ve known him since you can remember. He was probably your closest friend thinking back on it, both of your mothers were childhood friends and they always laughed and said they’d do everything together. They went to the same school, had the same classes and coincidentally they got pregnant at the same time. You and Mitsuya were side by side all throughout life and even school, he even walked you back home before heading back to school to do his extracurricular activities. Once you both decided it was time to move out of your respective homes you both got a place together, you two have in simple terms been through everything together - although you’ve never had to wake him up in the middle of the night before.
You find yourself at the edge of his bed, he looks so peaceful you have half the mind to walk back out and deal with the after effects of your nightmare by yourself, but you knew it would just end up with you walking back to his room and finding yourself right where you left off.
“Takashi…” you mumble while slightly nudging him. He shifts by only a little, head rolling over to the other side. “Taka…Can I sleep here tonight?” You say louder, you can see him stir around more prominently while his head turns back to face you. His eyes slowly open and blink, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim darkness that surrounds you. Once he finally sees you he lifts the blankets up giving you the silent okay to slip in.
You waste no time in getting under his blankets and cuddling up against him. He was warm like a furnace and you took all the warmth you could get. Your arms wrap around his waist while his arm settles around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I’m sorry.” You apologize, unsure if the sudden heat you feel is because of your embarrassment or because of how warm he is. “I know your tired and this won’t-”
“Shh.” He quickly shushes you and closes his eyes once again.
“But-”
“I said shh.” His other hand reaches over and rubs your back, trying to soothe any anxieties you seem to have brought with you. You bite your tongue and don’t say anything else, just being around him soothed you enough that your body feels relaxed again. The tingling of your skin subsided along with just how tight your chest was feeling when you were in your own room.
Mitsuya didn’t mind you waking him up, he’s never been one to sleep through the night nor go to bed early anyways so a little disturbance of sleep by you was nothing that upset him. If he was being honest, having you by his side right now was a comfortable feeling to have.
You were quiet in his arms, you hadn’t made a sound since he shushed you and he thinks you’ve finally fallen back to sleep; your breathing had evened out and even the grip you had on him loosened. He opens his eyes, glancing down to you only to see your eyes wide open. He sighs, he turns his body so he’s now facing you all while scooting down the bed so he’d be eye level. His eyes meet your own, he could tell there were plenty of thoughts running rampant as you could barely keep up the contact, your own gaze falling somewhere else. When you meet his eyes seconds later his expression changed, face now scrunched up as he pondered over what to say.
After so many years of knowing you, he’s never known about your nightmares. Not once have you mentioned it to him or shown a sign that you were struggling. How long have you been struggling with this? He could have been there for you like he is tonight, held you against his chest and consoled you like he’s done for other things. Why didn’t you confide in him for this?
“What else are you keeping from me?” His words come out before he could properly think, mind still foggy from waking up not too long ago. The expression that graces your face can only be described in his words as adorably confused, your eyes widen, eyebrows furrow and lips pout.
“I don’t keep secrets from you.” You defend.
“You kept this from me.” Mitsuya shoots back, eyebrows raising as he looks at you. He can’t help but scan your entire face being so close to you.
“It’s not a-”
“If it’s not a big deal then you wouldn’t be in my bed unable to sleep.” He sees your mouth open and then close. You had nothing to argue with when you knew he was correct. A sigh slips past his lips. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No…”
Now it’s his turn to be the silent one. He’s unsure of what to say to you, unable to form the words he needs to reassure you and your mind. His eyes look elsewhere as his hand runs up and down your arm, it’s soothing to you; his hand was warm against your cold skin.
You stare at him, his eyes focused on something else. It looks as if he was lost deep in thought, concentrating on not making any eye contact with you. The low shade of the led lights that were cascading against his features made him look like he should be painted and shown off in a museum for everyone to see, though you’re happy it’s only you seeing him right now. He was attractive dare you say it, especially right now
His touch is soft, all of his touches are soft when it comes to you which you’ve noticed. It’s such a contrast as to how he perceives himself to others and what his life has been like.
Mitsuya never had the ideal home life, his mother worked late most nights so he had to take the roles of both a mother and father due to his father not being in the picture either. You’d always lend out a hand when you could, inviting him and the girls to your house to eat and relax if they didn’t want to be home alone; sleepovers were a constant thing even when you both were well into your teenage years.
You were never one for liking him being apart of the gang he was in, always calling you late at night with cuts and bruises because he didn’t want his sisters to see, you’d be at his house waiting for him while every meeting happened, you can still remember the anxiety you’d felt when he mentioned he’d be back late or if there were fights going on at the time. Mitsuya had a temper to him, easily controlled but he did have his slip ups. He’s snapped at others around you when he’d be too pissed off or just frankly annoyed with the world, but he never snapped at you. He was always soft and gentle when it came down to you.
All those times where you locked yourself in your room crying hysterically because of an insignificant high school boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and played with your heart he was there consoling you. He’d engulf you in his arms bringing you to his lap while he rubbed small circles into your back trying to calm you down in any way. He held you like you were fragile and he couldn’t dare to break you. Mitsuya cared about you and couldn’t help but be soft with you even despite everything he’s been through.
Your face felt as if it was set ablaze just thinking of him in such ways, he’s your best friend, always has been closer to you than anyone else. You wouldn’t dare ruin that with any thoughts of finding him attractive, even though pressed up against him and the way he’s staring so intently at you is giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach. No. It’s just the anxiety of sleeping again, yeah that’s it. Just anxiety. No butterflies at all.
You're pulled out of your thoughts once his hand cups your cheek, you suddenly realize just how close the two of you are. Your senses came in full swing as all you could feel was the soft brush of his breath against your lips, the smell of his spearmint toothpaste he used before bed and the way his fingers grazed your cheek; rough yet soft finger pads against your smooth skin. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.
You.
“Nothing.”
“Still can’t sleep?” He smiles lazily at you, fingers still lightly touching your cheek. You shake your head in response. “What can I do for you?”
The sudden tension that wraps around you two tightens. Your eyes meet his yet no words seem to form in your tongue. What could you say to that? You didn’t know what to say. What did he expect you to say? Your mind was racing and the sudden tightness in your chest caused your body to stiffen.
His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers once again rubbing small circles there too. You held your breath feeling his hand settle on your nape. Mitsuya’s eyes glanced from your lips to your eyes, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Relax.”
“I am.” You pout.
“Relax more.”
Your eyebrows knit together. “How?” you ask, you were molded into him against his bed. As far as you knew this was the most relaxed you’ve been.
A thought crosses his mind, something he didn’t know if he should smack himself for or applaud for even coming up with it in the first place. Would he be so low as to try this? He’s never crossed any boundaries nor would he ever want to, especially with how you came to him tonight. You were the closest one in his life, he loved you dearly, you were his best friend, but…
“Close your eyes.” He finally gets out, confusion crosses your features once again tonight.
“What?”
“Close your-”
“I heard what you said, but why?”
“I’m helping you relax, just trust me.” He says finally, his words do little to actually help you relax but it’s Takashi, if he says to trust him then you trust him with everything in you.
Your eyes show hesitation but you close them regardless. He watches as you squeeze them shut, a smile can’t help but appear on his face while he watches you. The hand on your neck finds its way into your hair, gently massaging the back of your head, he watches your face relaxes while practically melting into his hand. “Relaxed now?” You nod slightly, head feeling heavier in his hand.
You do feel relaxed, your body melts into his own as you subconsciously lean into him. His hands working at your scalp have you zoning out to only focus on his touch against you so that you miss the way he scoots closer until you feel his lips on yours. Your eyes shoot open just to see him pull away.
“Sorry…I just-”
“Do that again…” your voice is barely above a whisper yet he hears you interrupt him regardless. If he wasn’t so close to you he would’ve missed what you said.
He stares at you, almost as if he’s waiting for you to take it back. The pout is back on your face as he looks at you. Your hands slip to his sides tugging him closer, a neediness coming out of you.
“It’ll help me relax…if you kiss me again.” Your big puppy dog eyes look at him and a smile reforms on his face. He could never deny you when you look like that.
“Promise?” You nod quickly, face perking up instantly.
You felt the flex of his hand before seeing him lean in, his grip tightening as he pulled you to him. The kiss was sweet and gentle despite his grip on your neck, he was holding you so close and tight while his lips moved against your own. Your hands slid up from his sides to his bare chest while finally placing themselves on his shoulders, fingers slightly digging into him grasping a hold to center yourself. Your mind was in a frenzy from such a soft and sweet act alone.
He pulled away sooner than you’d like and you find yourself chasing his lips. “One more.”
“We should sleep.” His hand went from your neck back to your cheek, caressing it lovingly while looking at you.
“One more then we’ll go to sleep.” You batted your eyes at him, that same pout gracing your face once again.
Mitsuya knew that there was no sleep anywhere in his future.
Thinking about you and Satoru getting out of the shower and not even drying each other off before he's fucking you into the mattress, creating wet spots from the leftover shower spray. Soap bubbles stain the comforter but those annoying little spots are really at bottom of your list of concerns with the way he's rubbing at your clit with one hand and holding your leg up to your cheeks, dripping wet dick pounding into you. The slippery squelching sound your skin makes against his fills the room up, along with your needy moans, your gasps, asking for it harder or faster. And when he cums, he pulls out and sprays across your pretty bouncing chest and offers to lather you back up and clean you once more since he couldn’t help himself.
pairing ꒱ྀི al haitham x fem reader — warnings ꒱ dub-con + exhibitionism + cum + creampie / breeding mention + some dirty talk ! + oral — fem receiving / repost / 18+
tucked away in the farthest corner, nothing could be heard except for hushed whispers and soft gasps.
“not here,” you whine prickled with budding fear as your eyes cautiously scan your surroundings. unlike you, the scribe before you appeared poised.
even now in the wake of committing something so obscene, al haitham sported a passive expression along with an aura that subdued anyone who got too close.
you find yourself tongue-tied by this juxtaposition. the steady cadence when tells you that he wished to see your ‘little cunt’ couldn’t have made you more lightheaded. the contrast is what keeps you on your tiptoes, such vulgarity uttered in a striking blankness that leaves you to fill out the rest.
there was no way you could’ve assumed that this possessive demand of an ‘inspection’ would be another attribute of his personality. al haitham’s rationale is one of his most defining traits, and you couldn’t rationalize why your boyfriend of such prestige would spend his afternoon peeling back layers of frill and lace in between bookshelves.
he dedicates a lot of time fulfilling his own needs, and you suppose that’s why he’s fixated on your pussy despite your hiccuping protest.
“no, no, no. h-haithy. . what if someone sees and we get in trouble ?”
bustling scholars were on every floor nearly in every corner, but the library was massive. the odds of someone coming by your section were unlikely, but still not impossible, and did nothing to settle you.
his hands attach themselves to your waist before trailing them down over your ass. “don’t get worked up.”
you almost want to scream at him for how unconvincing he sounds, not even trying to ease your worries. he towers over you, examining the panic etched on your face. he doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to — his narrowed eyes speak for him.
squirming, you huff, “y’can’t. . just look down there, okay? it's still drippy. . . and sticky.”
your orbs gloss over and your sugared-coated sniffles are loud enough for the scribe to hear, but he pays your wails no mind. instead, he chooses to crouch down until he’s at eye level with your hips.
al haitham raises your dress by the hem until it’s more than just your legs visible.
“put it in your mouth,” he orders.
he pulls it an inch above your belly button and just as he instructed, you part your lips to tuck the dress in your mouth to keep it from obstructing his view.
you turn your head away from him in embarrassment. the chatter, the rustling of papers, and laughter echo not so far in the distance. the more you take in your surroundings, the more anxious you become. the gravity of being potentially seen becomes more imminent, and you have to bite down harder on the dress to keep your tears from spilling over.
al haitham’s gloved and nimble fingers play with the band of your panties. the shape of your lower lips pressed closely against the material formed a damp spot that he was pleased to see. as he licked his lips, fingers pulled at the fabric, forcing them down.
when your underwear falls to your ankles, like a gentleman, he offers you his hand to help you step out of the soiled cotton before shovinitem in his pocket. he then pats your knee, “up,” he says.
it takes a couple of seconds before you hesitantly raise your leg, but the scribe wasn’t having any of your timidness. al haitham cups behind your thigh and forces the limb much higher— so much that your silken lips slightly separate from the stretch. he soaks up the sight, staring in complete awe at the crystalline threads that ebb across your cunt.
his thumb caresses the smoothness of your skin, and his face closes the distance between your plump and moist flesh between your legs.
your clit and outer lips are glossed with your fluids. his cock head beads white and pushes up against his underwear the longer he stares. too many memories circle his mind, the countless times he’s pounded your cunt until you were pulling away.
al haitham’s skillful finger rests on your nub, forcing you to bite back a dragged-out mewl. he then carefully strums across your folds, and lazily separates them. “h-haithy,” you warble. what you’ve been shying away from was finally occurring.
the tips of his fingers settle on your thick and puffy lips to pull them apart. your clit, peeking out from under the hood, is a fleshy pink—taut and shiny with slick. his head tilts and turns, observing from different angles.
“still swollen from how I fucked it earlier.” a slight smile dawns on his expression.
“remember that? remember how I sowed my seed inside of you, how you asked—no, begged me to breed you ?”
you’re rendered speechless. tears were freely falling, not from the shame, but from his recount of today's earlier event and how it still managed to make you even wetter.
“you begged me to make you my wife if I recall. just so you can have my cock whenever you want.” his mouth brazes your skin.
“if you want me to grant your wish, the least you do is let me see the mess you’ve made.”
you croon instinctively, watching him inspect you further. your hole is agape, and your insides are painted white from the cum he stuffed you with just hours ago. the prolonged exposure of your stretched center forces a dollop of his seed to seep out onto the tile floor with a plat.
“would you look at that,” he chuckles. he soothes you by rubbing your perched thigh, kissing the inside of it. before you could even brace yourself, his lips twist and pucker on your clit.
the sudden wave of pleasure blindsides you, and you accidentally let a loud moan escape. anxiety sticks at you, but not enough to subside the feeling of your boyfriend mouthing your cunt.
he doesn’t dare close his eyes. with his nose flushed against your mound, he drinks up your ruined expression while his tongue runs laps over your clit. his eyes dare you— provoke you, pining for your release.
drool soaks your dress, your legs cramp, and your hands grip his hair to keep your rough humping of his mouth under control. you lose yourself to the thickness of his tongue that tastes the salt of his cum mingled with your honeyed arousal, a distinctive and satisfying flavor
“c-can’t cum here, ’haitham” you muffle out, scared that your dress wouldn’t be enough to mute your outcry.
“you can’t ?”
he doesn’t remove his mouth from your heat, choosing to speak with his lips still nursing on your clit in between breaths, neglecting your hole.
“why not? don’t you want to be my wife ?”
yesyesyesyes. iwannabeyoureverything.
“you do, don’t you ? cum for me then, let me taste everything your pussy has to offer me.”
you’re drenched and sweaty, and your boyfriend doesn’t relent. forcing your eyes shut, you focus on that coil springing inside and the mouth that continues to devour your gooey cunt.
the build-up to your orgasm is maddening. you bite down hard and put your hand over your mouth as an added measure.
no one can hear you, you have to make sure of it.
the other hand pulls harder at his hair and presses him closer to your folds.
“cummin’!” you choke out. your body freezes up and shakes from the collision. his mouth doesn’t slow or fasten, it goes the same pace, savoring the saccharine sweetness of your release. he quietly groans around you so much that goosebumps erupt all over your body.
you almost forget to breathe.
after a few minutes, of tender and more thoughtful sucks against your cunt, al haitham reluctantly pulls away, his mouth stained with stringy fluids. the spasm of your walls pushes out the remaining cum inside like a leaky faucet. your sopping clit was sucked raw, and the apex of your thighs are damp with spit and cum.
al haitham smirks to himself, nodding in approval as he admires his work.
your future husband surely would be the death of you.
college student!tendou who kinda has a reputation for being really hard to get. like yeah he's odd, but girls hit on him a lot despite that. in fact, you think that they do it because of that. but yeah, satori is popular beyond belief, with a reputation for turing down just about every person that propositions him. so it's a bit of a shock when he approaches you first.
at first it's friendly. you're pulled into his orbit as easily as anyone else is, falling victim to the precise feeling of his vision and the way he talks. you like being around him and while you'll admit that he's attractive, that's really all it is. besides, you're not exactly interested in a guy who knows what sort of reputation he has, hard to get or not.
"hey," he chimes from the couch beside you.
the small party goes on around you both, sat on the couch with your drinks in hand. both of you are deep in a slouch, the tips of your knees just barely touching.
"yeah?" you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow.
"wanna hook up?" he asks, sipping his drink and looking over the rim of his cup at you with knowing eyes.
"the hell did you just say to me?" you snort in near disbelief.
"i asked if you wanted to hook up," satori clarifies in a needlessly annunciated tone.
you squint at him for a moment, trying to figure out what his angle is. as far as you know, satori's never been so forward with anyone and if he just wanted a quick fuck, he'd have his pick of the litter in a very real sense. he eyes you for a moment as if he can tell what you're thinking and you struggle to figure out if he's joking on not. you settle on the former.
"and what about your reputation, mr. hard-to-get?" you laugh a little, leaning forward and aiming to project a confidence in yourself.
satori leans forward with his elbows on his knees. his lips curl into a mischievous smile and his fingers hold the cup between his hands so gingerly that it seems he might drop it. he angles his head up so that he's eye-level with you, his adam's apple bobbing heavily as he swallows.
"reputation?" he smirks, "id give up my whole fucking career if it meant getting some tail from you."
you blink at him and for a moment he just looks at you, that sly cat's grin smooth on his lips. then, he leans back with a shrug.
anyway, i frequently think about satoru and suguru cornering you in a closet. some semi-public location with people bustling just on the other side of the door. n you're not supposed to be there even under normal circumstances, let alone these ones.
you're leaning back against one of the shelves, your leg propped up in the most comfortable way you can manage. your bare cunt is exposed under the fabric of your skirt and satoru kneels between your legs. suguru stands to your right, close enough that you can feel his body heat, but he's not touching you just yet. no, suguru is just watching.
satoru's hands rest on the inside of your thighs and his tongue laps eagerly at your cunt. he presses the flat of it to your clit, moving it side to side slightly as he holds your legs open. the room is dark, illuminated only by the light coming in through under the door, and it makes the sounds of your pussy feel even louder. you can hear the wet click of his mouth against you, tongue dipping in and out of you as he savors the taste.
you grip the shelf behind you with one hand and knot your fingers in his hair with the other, stifling choked gasps as he creeps you closer to the edge.
"shshshsh," suguru croons from beside you, placing his palm on your forehead and drawing your attention to him. "gotta be quiet. we wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"
you nod your head, looking into suguru's calculating eyes. they look strangely satisfied. like he's fulfilled at seeing you and satoru be so absorbed in pleasure that he'd orchestrated. though he doesn't touch you, both you and satoru know that suguru is in charge.
suguru's hard. you can feel his bulge from where he stands, just barely touching your thigh. it sits in his pants untouched and unattended.
"touching yourself, satoru?" suguru laughs a little, tilting his head down to glance at where satoru is palming the bulge in his slacks.
satoru doesn't look up or pause, instead just nodding into your cunt. suguru lets out a quiet and somewhat condescensing laugh.
"you're such a pervert." to which satoru opens his eyes and rolls them.
you're caught between the two, grip in satoru's hair tightening as he works you up. his tongue swirls around you, fingers digging into the fleshy inside of your thighs. if you had the mind, you'd notice that the way they dip against your skin looks delightful. suguru is sure to have noticed that.
"he's good at that, isn't he?" suguru asks you.
"mhm, he's-" you choke on your words, subconsciously pulling him against you harder. your sentence is cut short.
"satoru's real good with his tongue," suguru smiles down at you, insinuating something that makes you both jealous and overwhelmingly aroused.
as if on cue, satoru applies pressure to your clit, swirling around it with the tip of his tongue. when you look down at him, his eyebrows are furrowed. it's as if he's deliberately tried to draw your attention to him and he frowns at suguru before delivering a succinct squeeze to your thighs.
you climb higher and higher, the knot in your stomach winding up like a wire gone taut. you tremble and then gasp as your whole body becomes sensitive and suguru places his hand back on your forehead, forcing you to look at him.
his palm is wide and warm and though he doesn't apply much pressure, you get the feeling that you couldn't move your head if you'd tried.
"is satoru gonna make you cum?" he asks quietly, leaning in close to your face. "you gonna let him?"
you don't have a choice. you're going to cum. you feel it welling up in your stomach and behind your eyes, where heat rushes to your face. all you can do is look at suguru while satoru's tongue buries itself in your sloppy cunt. you can feel the way slick drips down the leg supporting you, dampening already sensitive skin.
"eyes open when you do, 'kay?" suguru offers with that gentle cadence of his. playful and coolheaded, he makes you an offer you know you can't refuse.
you feel the peak as it builds, blinding you as you approach that overwhelming finish. you tug at gojo's hair and he takes it as a cue to double down. you gasp and crest over, rising up onto your toes as your legs begin to tremble.
suguru's hand still presses on your forehead and gojo takes it upon himself to attach himself to your clit and slide his hands around to support your lower back. your voice sits just behind your tongue, mouth open in a silent moan as you look into suguru's eyes.
he looks almost wicked. so satisfied that it makes you feel proud. you watch him like he asked you too, pulling satoru's head against your pussy subconsciously.
satoru works you through it, slowing the motions of his tongue as you come down with a choking gasp and heavy breathing. suguru strokes your sweat soaked forehead.
"can i have a turn?" suguru questions.
satoru stands up from between your legs, rubbing the inside of your thighs. then, he reaches up to wipe his cum-soaked mouth.
"jeez, suguru," he smiles. "give the poor thing a minute, at least."
what if dabi was a demon prince who was exiled from the demon world by his father? locked and sealed away in an abandoned church that he can’t leave lest he suffer excruciating pain down to the bone, get all of his powers drained dry. he thinks he could go insane just watching the days pass, growing hungrier for innocent souls but he can’t do anything.
that’s where you come in — the child of renowned demon hunters, a curious one following in your parents’ footsteps. going against their commands and exploring that abandoned church on your own because who are they to stop you? you’re stronger and more quick-witted than they think. that’s why you don’t think too much about it when you break the seal that stops dabi from wreaking havoc.
if only you knew how much danger you put yourself in.
#!CC: power play, o.sex (receiving), implications of demonic entities
NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet
The sound of dishes smashing against the floors was deafening as it carried throughout the manor. The splintering shatter of an expensive set caused the three three other house aids to grimace. In the upper room of Ciel Phantomhive, his eyes closed and he sighed, for regret was starting to cloud his mind in hiring you— the new maid. The help to what he’d already deemed, ‘A full house.’
Sebastian bowed gracefully, his head cocked slightly as he smiled.
“I will see to it that the mess will be cleaned young master.”
“Make sure that you do. I have very little patience left.” Phantomhive waved off. Sebastian then walked out shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He pulled at his pristine gloves as he walked down the hallways, a devilish grin splitting his face.
When he’d arrived at the kitchen door he’d picked up on quips of complaints from you and Mey-Rin.
“I’m going to be done for sure this time...” You whined, brushing glass pieces onto a dustpan.
“I’m sure you won’t. The young master is lenient. During my recent years I was such a klutz and Sebastian had to—”
The butler opened the door and the conversation halted with unease in the air. Mei-Ren stood nervously and you kept your head low as your fingers trembled to pick up the rest of the glass. The heat of eyes boring into the side of your head didn’t go unnoticed as they clinked softly together in the pile.
“You may go. I shall handle this.” Sebastian’s velvety voice remained low, his eyes glued on your crouched form. Mei-Ren gave a reassuring glance towards you and bowed quickly. After the haste retreating footsteps, the room was quiet except for the soft sound of tinkling glass shards.
“Stand please,” Sebastian hummed, his red eyes trailing your straned movements; your chest rose and fell slightly and he could hear the quickening tapping of your beating heart. Your eyes looked everywhere but at him, which he found a bit rude but another lesson to be made at a later date.
You clasped your hands in front of your body, ready to endure whatever verbal penalty was sure to be made. This wasn’t your first offense.
Countless of glassware had been destroyed by your hand, not to mention the mistakes you’ve made since you were hired by the young master. From nearly burning down the manor due to attempted meals, to using the wrong chemicals in the garden. All resulting in Sebastian’s stern dispraises. Ciel pegged you to be just as bad as his other servants put together.
Sebastian began to snake towards you, his movements precise and elegant. With ease, he’s stepped through the shards of remaining glass, never trailing it behind him. As he got closer, you subconsciously shrunk back until you hit the far wall with a small gasp.
Sabastian brought his hand to his mouth, swiftly biting the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off, all the while his gaze never left yours. Leaving the glove on his left hand, he pressed both palms against the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He picked out the accelerated beating in your chest as his face lowered towards yours.
Sebastian was never going to admit this to any mortal, but he a part of him was looking forward to another slip up from you. Ever since the young lord hired you, your entire essence intrigued him. On more accounts than one, the need for self restraint became nearly intangible whenever you were around. He knew humans were creatures who could not reject temptation. Never had he thought he’d be acting just like them.
His eyes held a dark glint in them as his lips stretched into a grin.
“That set was a favorite of the young lord,”
“I’m sorry! I slipped and I really tried to catch my fall, but I only ended up making things worse.”
“Yes, the ordeal is quite unfortunate,” He continued. “The entire glass set was a precious family heirloom.” The demon lied, which was proven to be effective given the horror stricken look on your face. You were on the verge of tears and your lips parted to let out a soft sigh.
Sebastian brought a finger under your chin, pulling your head up in his direction. For the first time, you were made to look into his piercing eyes and you gulped.
“I’m sure I can come up with a reason for the destruction of the valuables.” His eyes shone mischievously and a second later, it hit you. And he knew that you were not going to reject the offer. In return, his knee slid upwards, dragging out a gasp from you at the sudden movement and the friction against your core. He smirked and lowered his sight to the rise and fall of your chest, zeroing in on your breasts.
“Lift your uniform and turn around.” His order was low and straight to the point, sending a shiver down your spine. He stepped back, allowing you to do so and once you were facing the wall, your cheeks heated up in how vulnerable you were now before the butler. A second or so later, you felt cool air hitting your heat and you whimpered, turning your head slightly. You then felt strong hands taking hold on your hips, gripping them in a way that sent dull pain throughout your legs.
“Face the wall.”
Sebastian moved closer, licking his lips at the scent of your femininity. It was different and he was intrigued. His finger hooked through the side of your panties, pulling them taut and exposing your glistening lower lips. He leaned forward, giving you a quick and experimental lick, causing you to release a not-so-quiet cry.
“I would strongly suggest keeping your voice down, yes? We wouldn’t want an audience.” He chuckled before returning his mouth to your pussy. You quickly clenched your uniform dress in one hand as the other covered your mouth, muffling your moans in your gloved hand.
His tongue flattened against you, teasing your clit before trailing back until it disappeared inside of you, writhing and thrusting against your gummy walls. Your body was growing flush as he worked his mouth against you, drawing more and more of your slick.
Sebastian’s movements started off as sensual and graceful, much like his surface personality. But each second his senses spent engulfed in your heat ignited something primal in him. His refined technique was abandoned and replaced with one less coordinated but more enthusiastic nonetheless.
Subconsciously, his fingers dug deeper into your hips releasing more added pleasure than pain. Obscene wet noises arose, synchronizing with your low moans. A hand left your hip to push past your folds and curled upwards, effectively sending a shock through your body resulting in a cry this time.
Sebastian hummed, taking the action into memory and his ministrations seemingly went lazy. At this point, it wouldn’t take much more for you to come and he knew this, doing it again.
His face pushed deeper against you, his tongue nudging your clit and at the same time curling his finger and this is what sent you over the edge.
The noise that escaped wasn’t suppressed behind your palm this time. Your thighs quivered as you calmed down, whimpering as the butler gave you a final few laps before standing. Now more than before, you wanted to feel him, see him, touch him as he ravaged you with what he had to offer.
Turning around slightly, you caught a glimpse of darkness, the air around you suddenly cold. Darkness surrounded you only briefly but you caught a flash of his twisted face in a snarl—a typical refuned features. A shiver ran down your spine, his grip returning but tighter than the last.
“You still refuse to listen.” His breath was ticking your ear, tone menacing but the same velvet that compelled your limbs to relax.
Before you could come up with some half thought out apology, he sheathed his dick into you, grunting softly when he was flush against your ass. Not knowing when he had the time to release himself, you keened at the sudden intrusion as you shifted and tightened around him.
He sighed, strumming his fingers on your hips before pulling out and pushing into you firmly. His movements formed a rhythm as you were rocked against the wall. By now, your hand had fallen from your mouth and was instead placed on the surface in front of you. Movements increasing in speed as well as forcefulness, moans poured from you, wafting through the kitchen and you could only hope that’s where they’ll remain.
Sebastian grunted before yanking your hands behind you, wrists gripped under his one hand with precision at the small of your back. He’s reverted to fucking you with reckless abandon, his own breathing just barely ragged.
You, however were a mess, your vision blurred with wetness, voice producing a low mantra of the butler’s name as a desired pressure began to build up within you. Over and over, his thrusts hit that sweet spot within you that pushed you closer and closer to that moment of bliss.
“What do you think of this lesson?” It was a strange question, at the even most strangest time. It barely processed in your ears and you’re only half inclined to answer in the state you’re in. However, his hand reaches to tilt your head back, face ethereally perfect as golden pools stare into your soul.
“Hnn..?” You couldn’t think, much less articulate any response he was looking but that was alright. He just wanted to drink in the gloss in your eyes as your mouth moves, no words escaping. Your cunt pulsated around him, each stroke drawing more and more of your essence from your body. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wrong to indulge in a bit of the human soul. Not when you were so vulnerable and pliant under his mere gaze. You didn’t see him now. You didn’t see what he’d become again, as the only thing you that surrounded you was the grip of the cold and your cunt being stretched out.
Only when he released you with a low chuckle did the static disipitate and the pressure snaps, his hand quick to hold your cries.
Delicious aftershocks took hold of you, controlling your convulsions as you clenched repeatedly around Sebastian’s cock. You couldn’t see the subtle twist of his features as he approached euphoria as well, his grip icy as he held you against the wall. Following suit soon after, his hot come spilled into you in copious amounts, filling you until it trickled down your thighs.
He pulled out and your legs buckled slightly beneath you before he chuckled and you were spun around.
“Hey now,”
Sebastian was altogether neat. His uniform remained as immaculate as they were when he walked in, white gloves on and pristine. His face retained its usual fair skinned complexion, void of sweat or any indication of vigorous activity.
Meanwhile, you knew you looked a complete mess if it wasn’t obvious. Sebastian cocked his head and smiled warmly, a bright expression that contrasted the devil in his eye.
“Despite how pleasurable this lesson has been, I implore you to exercise caution and heighten your awareness. The young master would not appreciate any more recklessness from you and neither will I.” As he spoke his teeth gleamed only adding to the weight of his words engraved in your mind.
Still you straightened, your hands clasping tightly over your uniform as you nodded curtly.
“Yes Sebastian!”
After that encounter in the kitchen, your mistakes and slip-ups had been reduced to very little occurrences to absolutely none.
“See I knew you’d get the hang of things!” Mei-Ren beamed.
“Maybe I’ll let you cook something small again. Seeing how much you improved and all.” Baldroy had praised, fanning a smoking pot.
Each of the house aids were ultimately pleased you were doing better than you had been before.
Even Ciel seemed content, but not at all surprised knowing Sebastian had a hand in it. The butler was delighted as well, rewarding your improvements with favorable pleasures every now and again.
He still needed to teach you a lesson about listening after all.
DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content— current or archival.
Come Through and Chill || plug!draken x fem!reader
You were just supposed to pick up some bud for the weekend... so how did you end up in bed with the hottest plug around?
Cw:weed, pussy eating, finger sucking, ptv, dirty talk, squirting, draken has a big cock (like coke can thick), belly bulge, pet names (baby, angel, good girl), not beta read (we die like men)
WC: 7.9 k I don't wanna talk about it.
Extra: Plug! Draken playlist.
‘Come through as soon as you’re off work, I got you.’
Blinking down at your bright phone screen you blink once, then twice. You hadn’t expected him to respond that quick in all honesty.
“Hey girl.”
“Umm hello?!”
“Hey!”
You jolt as your friend calls your name, an amused tilt to her voice as she takes in your blotchy red cheeks. Tucking your phone away lightning quick you clear your throat, slumping back against the counter.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come out tonight?”
Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your midsection as she tosses you a knowing smirk. You chew on your lower lip as trays of food and drinks whizz by you. Your legs and feet ache, hours of doing exactly what your co-workers are currently doing wearing on you. Your closest work friend raises her eyebrows as she leans her elbow against the shelf opposite of you. “So what’s the big plan then if you’re gonna be all by your lonesome?”
You shrug, tucking your hands in your hoodie pockets, rubbing your finger over the ring that lays on your thumb. It’s a nervous habit you haven’t quite learned how to break. The spinning of the metal helps to center your thoughts as you stand there. You’ve already ordered a meal to take home after your shift, a bottle of wine in your fridge and endless hours of Netflix to carry you through the next few hours that will bleed into your first two solid days off in over a week. There was only one thing you were missing. Your phone buzzes again and your eyebrows hit your hairline.
`1 location attached.`
‘No rush though, just wanna make sure you find the place okay.’
A place you’d been quite a few times if you recalled correctly. Sure the nights of partying were a little hazy, but you’d been to this particular spot enough times to know your way on your own.
‘I’ll let you know when I’m on my way, it shouldn't be too much longer.’
“Umm, just gonna pick up some smoke and then go home and veg. I’ve worked so many doubles over the past week.” It’s your co workers turn for her eyebrows to hit her hairline. Her smirk grows and the amused tone in her voice quickly turns to teasing as she straightens up to pinch your cheeks.
“Ohhh you’re gonna go see that hot ass mechanic that was eyeing you up last weekend.”
You smack her hand away, trying to hide the way your face burns. “it’s not like that, I swear.”
“Suuuure.” She grabs your chin in her hand, squishing your cheeks together while she makes you look at her. “Is that why you gave him your number the last time we pulled through there? Cause you ‘just need bud.’” She giggles as she makes air quotes with the other hand. Letting out a snort, you manage to smack her hands away.
“I’m serious!” Laughing you grab the to go box as the cook behind the window calls your name out. You grab what you’ve been waiting on and book it out the door, trying to ignore her hoots and hollers of, `it’s about damn time.`
The night air is sticky, twilight blues and purple mixing with the fading pink and orange that paints the sky that’s about to throw her dark blanket of night over. Your keys dangle from your hand, jingling together as you walk towards your car. I
t’s a perfect evening, with most of the summer heat knocking out of the air the darker it got. Setting your food and bag in the passenger seat, you pull your phone out as you fiddle around with the stereo system. Bobbing your head along to the song that starts, you find the last message thread you had pulled up on your phone. ‘Draken’ complete with a little dragon emoji makes you roll your eyes.
‘On my way. Be there in 20.’
‘Perfect. It’s right under the mat, just like I said. Enjoy, angel.’
Confused.
That’s the first feeling that creeps up on you as you walk down the hallway to his apartment. Usually it’s louder, a whole crowd that normally gathers here on Friday and Saturday evenings. There’s almost always music going, laughter coming from inside, the smell of food. It’s why you’d asked him to leave what you needed somewhere you could find it. The thought of being around tons of people after a long day of serving customers made you want to curl up in a ball, hidden away from the world.
Checking your watch you let out a small ‘huh’. It wasn’t late at all. 9pm glows up at you from your watch. It was early sure but still by now there would be at least some type of noise coming from the apartment.
Shrugging it off as you walk up to the door, you crouch down. Fingers brushing the rough edge of the door mat, you lift it only to find it empty underneath. Your brow knits together as you lift the entire thing only to find nothing but cold concrete staring up at you. Rising with a groan, you brush your hands off, watching as dust falls to the cement below your feet. Raising a fist, you almost hesitate, but as your foot hits the edge of the mat, another flash of annoyance shoots through you.
All your weekend plans consisted of were your tv, your snacks, your wine and unfortunately, his bud. Letting out a sharp sigh, you knock, the rapping of your knuckles on the black door breaking apart the silence that hangs heavy in the hallway.
Rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait, you pull your phone out. No new notifications flash on the screen and you open your messages, shooting one off before you knock again. You hear the chime of his phone and cross your arms over your mid section, waiting as you hear footsteps approaching the door. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, seeing that you’re still alone in the hallway when the door swings open, causing you to stop short and your mouth to dry out all in one swoop when you turn back to look at him.
The first thing you note is that he’s fresh out of the shower. A wafting scent of fresh pine, whatever scented soap he uses drifting across your nose. It tickles your senses, drifting into your nose. But that’s not where your eyes zero in.
Your eyes flick down to the exposed skin of his abdomen. He’s in the middle of pulling on a black t-shirt, the material catching and sticking to still wet skin. Water droplets roll down the ridges of his muscles, carving a wet path that your tongue would kill to follow. His abdomen is on a brief display for you, each outline of solid muscle searing into your mind’s eye. The deep V of his hips seem like they were chiseled out of marble, something you would find in the finest art galleries.
Your eyes flick back up, trying to pull your attention away from the hard lines and dips in his skin. His shirt flutters into place but at this point none of that even helps.
Wide eyes catch the dip of confusion in his brows, the way they knit together as dark eyes take in your form in front of him. Trailing down to see the frown that tugs at the corner of his mouth, pink lips opening and forming words.
Forming words? Shit, he was talking to you and you couldn’t get your eyes off the droplet of water that trailed down his neck and clavicle, disappearing underneath his shirt. It warps around the gold chain that he pulls out of his collar and your stomach rolls at how insanely attractive the motion of his fingers and the sparkling gold against his skin is.
“-okay angel?”
Snapping your eyes to his, you swallow dryly . He raises a brow at you now, the tiniest upturn of his lips and the amusement that flashed through his eyes has you flushing. He definitely caught you checking him out. Finally your brain catches up to what he’s asked you.
“Everything okay angel?”
Blinking quickly, you look down at your feet, shoes scraping the doormat. It reminds you of the reason you knocked on the door in the first place. Looking back up at him, your lips curl over your teeth by a fraction. Frustration returns to your body, grounding you as you seem to snap out of your thoughts.
“Yeah uhhh.” The edge of your shoe catches the welcome mat and you nudge it. “I’m missin’ a little something.”
His brows dip again, but then an exasperated sigh is falling from his lips and a light dusting of pink dances across the tip of his nose up to his ears. One hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, his bicep straining against the arm of the t-shirt he’d just put on. His other hand tucks into the pocket of his gray sweats. “Fuck I got caught up. Lowkey I was supposed to put your shit under the door when I got home and I had to handle something on the phone so I forgot.”
He looks so endearingly bashful, the annoyance that has settled in your chest dissipates like smoke. Awkwardly, you scuff your toe against the ground, shrugging as nonchalantly as you can manage. “It’s fine I just, was hopin to get it and go.”
“Here, come on in and I’ll get it for you.” He moves to the side, a jerk of his chin the only hint of an invite you get to coming inside. Still feeling awkward inside of your own skin, you follow him in, arms still crossed like a shield. You offer him a tiny half smile as you cross the threshold, moving past him. There’s a crackle of electricity as you move past him that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight.
Chewing on the corner of your lip as you turn to look at him, you find heated and amused onyx eyes trained on you, His mouth tugs up in the corner again and a smirk spreads across his cheeks. “Whatcha lookin so nervous for?”
He moves past you, his movements, fluid and smooth. When he moves past you, he glances slightly over his shoulder with a wink. “I don’t bite. Come on, my shit’s in my room.”
There’s a heat that crawls up your neck and face, and you’re sure that your whole face is on fire as you trail behind him, hands going into your hoodie pockets. You’ve left your shoes at the front door, and your socked feet pad quietly behind him. “Didn’t say you did. Just kinda weird in here when ‘s quiet.”
He chuckles as he opens the door to a room you recall being in once. It’d been filled with hazy smoke, and there’d been people packed in here like sardines, passing around blunts and listening to bass heavy music. You also briefly remember that it’s the night he put his number in your phone. You’d been leaning against the desk that night, while he sat in his desk chair right next to you.
At one point you’d been zoned out, sufficiently buzzed and listening to all the noise around you. A single finger had looped in your belt loop and tugged to get your attention. He’d checked on you, made sure you were good and given you water, watching with eyes that were more alert than they should have been for someone who had smoked as much as he had. His finger stayed hooked in the belt loop of your shorts the entire conversation and he’d only let go when your friends called your name, dragging you out of the room. But not before he’d tugged on your shorts, plucking your phone out of your back pocket. He put his number in and shot you a look that could only be described as heated. “In case you’re ever in need of some good bud.”
Recalling the heat that had flowed in between the two of you, you want to bolt out of there like the entire place is on fire. It’s unnerving, it makes your insides hot and the feeling makes something in you burn specifically for the man in front of you to look at you the way he did just a mere week ago.
“Yeah, ‘s a lil weird when people aren’t here but it’s nice to have a quiet night in. My roommates are both out tonight. Eatin’ at your joint tonight I think Did you just get out of work?” He takes a seat at his desk, turning the chair so he’s facing you. He pats the bed that’s pushed up next to it, motioning for you to take a seat.
Hopping up, you nearly groan in relief at being off your feet and something so soft. His eyebrows raise as he pulls out a scale, a jar full of bud and a small green pill bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk. “You good?”
If your face gets any hotter, you’re pretty sure you’re going to resemble the surface of the sun. “Yeah I’m good. Just had a long day at work. I opened the restaurant this morning and ended up staying later than I mean to cover one of the other girls who was late and…” You trail off with a shrug as you tuck your hands into the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “I didn’t realize how much my feet hurt until I sat down.”
“Mmmm.” He makes a non committal noise as he measures out product. Long deft fingers are fucking with the scale, placing a pill bottle on it and dropping little green nugs into it. “You said 3gs right?”
“Uh yeah. Don’t need much, just a little to relax this weekend. I finally have a weekend off and I’m gonna take full advantage of it.” You grin despite yourself, thoughts of a freshly rolled blunt and food with a bottle of wine and the softness of your couch filling you with happiness.
“Damn girl, look at you.” The tips of your ears start to feel the same heat as your face as he looks at you with a teasing grin. “Got any specific plans?”
“I’m going to melt into my couch and not move for three days.” You bite your lower lip when he fully turns to you, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome face. He twirls the pill bottle in his fingers as he looks at you, eyes half lidded with an emotion you’re not sure you want to name.
The both of you are friends, acquaintances really and you’re not entirely sure if you’re ready to cross the line to anything besides that. But the way he’s looking at you promises something inevitable. He holds the bottle out for you and before your fingertips even brush it, he snatches it back towards himself, a smirk planted on his mouth. “How about you start your relaxing weekend here?”
Your brows furrow and your lip sticks out in the softest pout. A sharp protest sits at the tip of your tongue and you can’t help the whine that comes out in your tone. “Hey!”
“How about… You start the relaxation now?” Your brow furrows as he speaks, confusion flitting across your face. You stare at him for a long moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, smoke with me.” He leans backwards in his chair, reaching for a pack of blunts. Honey white owls, the same as he had at the party. It’s a good flavor, one of your favorites and it’s so tempting to start now. His bed is soft and his room is surprisingly clean, and it smells like a mix of his cologne and extremely good bud. Plus it’s one on one time that you two have never had before outside of a stolen moment of him grabbing you a drink in the middle of one of his and his roommate’s parties. “Come on angel, I don’t bite and it looks like you could use the chance to unwind.”
“I have food in the car.” It’s the only thing that comes out when your mouth opens even though the word ‘yes’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. “I don’t want it goin bad or anything…”
Trailing off, when his onyx orbs stay planted on yours, you realize that any argument is futile and you sigh. The mega watt grin that he gives you speaks of his satisfaction over his victory and he holds his hand out. “Gimme your keys. I’ll bring your food in and put it in the kitchen for ya.”
Smacking your lanyard in his outstretched palm, you can’t help but roll your eyes at his instance and the boyish charm that drifts across his face. In exchange, he plops a rolling tray in your lap with strict instructions to start rolling while he gets your things sorted.
This is crazy. Absolutely insane that one smile from this male had you turning into putty in front of him and you grumble under your breath but get to rolling away. When he walks out it’s silent except for the sounds of the metal grinder in your hands.
It’s a familiar mindless process of rolling, and you do it quickly and efficiently. By the time he walks back in with your purse in hand you’re licking the end of the blunt wrap to seal it. His eyes flick down to your pink tongue that sticks out from your pretty glossed lips. You don’t even notice as you’re focused on what you’re doing, brow furrowed cutely in frustration.
“Lemme see how good you did ma.” Your eyes flick up to his at the use of the pet name at the end of his sentence and you give him a bland look that has his lip tugging up in a smile again. You hand him the blunt before leaning forward to place his rolling tray on the desk, not realizing as you do that he’s already walking forwards. Your shoulder bumps into his abdomen, the same chiseled one you spotted earlier when he was sliding his shirt on.
You scowl when you hear his low chuckle sound throughout the room. “If you wanted to hug me that badly you should have asked.”
Your lip curls over your teeth as he plops down on the bed in front of you. “You think you’re real slick aren’t you?”
“I know I am.” He throws you a wink as he polyps down on the bed, leaning against the wall as you lean back against the headboard, pulling your knees up. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he hands the blunt back to you along with the lighter. “Guests light up.”
“Thanks.” There’s a soft shick of the lighter sparking, and then a sizzle as you hold it to the end of the blunt and inhale. Draken doesn’t say anything while you take your first deep inhale, instead opting to turn on the bluetooth speaker that rests on the shelf mounted to the wall above his bed. There’s a gentle boom of the system connecting, and then a few notes fill the room before music starts to flow out. Despite your reservations your shoulders relax a fraction as you blow out the smoke you’ve held in, the familiar pepper and citrus taste of the bud heavy in your airway and drifting over your tongue. You take another deep inhale, deep enough to make your lashes flutter and you’re completely unaware of the eyes that are currently glued to your face.
Draken doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as pretty as you. All soft curves and shiny locks. A pretty smile that stretches wide over your cheeks. The way your head tilts back a little when you laugh and your nose scrunches. Truthfully, he was floored the first time you rolled up with your friends at one of the infamous house parties. You looked so out of place, skittish and shy until your friend shoved a blunt in your direction and told you to relax.
Come to find out there’s a little fire, a spark that simmers underneath the shy outer shell. He can’t help that you’re intriguing enough for him to want to know what it looks like when you strip away all the layers to where you burn. Burn for him.
Your eyes open as you let out your second inhale and you lean forward, holding out the blunt for him. Your small, soft hands brush past his large calloused ones and the warmth that radiates off of them makes him want to groan as he thinks about how they would look wrapped around his length. He has to fight the temptation to grab one down while he places the blunt to his lips, right in the place where your glossed lips have been.
The cherry flavor from your lips gloss lingers on the blunt, mixing with the flavor of weed and the blunt wrap. His mind drifts to the thought of what you would taste like. If he sucks your tongue, would you taste like cherry and bud and something else? He inhales and looks at you again through heavy lids. Truthfully he’d smoked half a blunt the minute he’d gotten off work, but the thought of sharing one with you was too tempting to pass up.
When you’d sunk onto his mattress like it was your salvation he jumped at his chance and for now, he can tell he made the right call.
Now that he’s got you here though, there’s a little bit of hesitancy that lingers in the pit of his stomach. It’s been a long time since he’s tried something like this with someone who’s caught his attention like you have. It makes his insides churn with anticipation and he can’t help but sigh out his inhale, the smoke curling out of his mouth.
One of the first things he noticed about you is that you don’t have the need to fill the silence with empty words. You’re content sitting with him in the silence, and it’s something he appreciates after a full day of dealing with customers. He takes his second inhale before he’s handing the blunt back. His eyes stay on yours when he wonders when this.. Tension that’s been building between the two of you is going to pop.
It’s like a bubble that traps the two of you in it, but instead of expanding, it shrinks, pressing down and pushing you two into each other. It’s been a month and a half since the first time you graced his doorstep and he’s thought of you every other minute since.
You’re about halfway through the blunt when you let out a sigh, sinking a little further into the pillows. You lick your lips and he tracks the way the tip of your tongue wets your plus mouth. Bloodshot eyes drift up to look into his, and he watches as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Thanks for this. I really needed it.”
“Any time angel. You know. You’re kind of my favorite customer. Although you can’t tell anyone else that. They might start askin’ for special treatment and then I’ll be outta a side hustle.” He reaches over and grips your ankle, tugging a little in jest. His thumb brushes over the pretty anklet dangling around it and the minute the metal hits his thumb something shifts.
He traces the delicate gold chain, running his thumb over the tiny links. It glints against your skin, a little angel dangling from the chain and resting against the hollow of your ankle. A low dangerous chuckle vibrates through his chest even though the energy in the room is anything but light hearted. “Guess I was spot on with the nickname.”
“Yeah…” Your voice is just as low as his, as if, if you speak too loudly you’ll break whatever tentative vibe has taken over the room. “Um Draken?”
“Ken.” He mumbles it as he moves, leaning a little closer. He leans on his elbow with your feet near his abdomen, nearly laying on his side as he blinks over at you. “Call me Ken.”
“Ken..” The sound of his name leaving your mouth in a near whimper does him completely in.
Before he thinks too much, before his nerves get the best of him, he places the blunt directly in between your lips. There’s not much left to it, maybe one last hit. “Finish it.”
There’s a soft demand in his tone and the feeling in his chest gives way to admiration as you do exactly as you’re told. “Ash tray is on the desk.”
He murmurs the sentence out as he presses his lips directly to your anklet. You let out a soft whine before you swallow dryly, half lidded eyes taking in the sight of this big broad man laying the softest kidd on your skin. “I…”
“You can tell me to stop when you want me to.” He looks up at you, his nose skimming the skin of your calf. The sight of it, the heat from the weed and the overall tension pops as you shake your head.
“Don’t… Please don’t stop.” Your cheeks burn even hotter than before when he grins a heated smile up at you. Your breath starts to come a little faster as he works his way up your leg, large, rough, warm calloused hands moving up your calves to the back of your knees, spreading them wide enough for him to slot himself between. His hands don’t stop moving, massaging your sore calves.
His fingers knead the knotted muscles so expertly and gently, you can’t help but melt into the touch. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth drops open in a groan. The moment your attention is off of him, he takes his chance, grabbing you and sliding your hips forward. You yelp in surprise when your back meets the mattress and he gives another deep chuckle, one that shoots a bolt of heat straight to your core.
You’ve always been touchy when high, when your senses are heightened to a point where pleasure gets overwhelming. You swallow thickly and open your eyes so they’re glued to his. The music in the room continues to fill the space where both of you linger, and you’re unwilling to break the vibe besides a groan when his hands move from your calves to the top of your thighs. Squirming despite yourself, your eyes finally fall from his to where the backs of your thighs rest on the top of his.
He’s broad in between your legs and your heart jumps in your chest as he moves to shit back on his heels. Draken’s - no Ken - is glued to the apex of your thighs, right where your clothed core rests. It’s right below his growing erection and the sight of you squirming underneath it makes him impossibly harder. “Fuck that’s a fuckin’ pretty sight.”
You may have been unwilling to break the silence but a high Ken is also a vocal and touchy Ken. Reaching down, his hands skim up your thighs, over the flesh of your plush ass to your waist. He grips it hard, tugging you to sit up so he can slot his mouth against yours.
Even cotton mouthed from smoking, it’s the sloppiest kiss of your life, His soft lips meet yours and he presses hard, claiming your mouth. He consumes you, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He strokes it against yours, one of his hands coming up to thread in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers thread into your hair and he tugs, tilting your head back so your throat is exposed. A whimper leaves your throat and small hands come up to clutch at his forearms.
You push back against him, tentatively letting your tongue meet his, stroke for stroke. There’s little strings of saliva that connect the two of you when he finally finds it in him to pull away. It’s lewd and wet, your eyes glazed over as they flick down to take in the sight. The hand on your waist leaves, coming up to tap on your lower lip. “Open.”
The command is stern, growled out in impatience until you obey, mouth dropping open. You cling to the edges of your shyness, and as much as he finds it endearing, he’s waited too long for this. “Stick out your tongue.”
You’re practically panting as you do as you’re told and two fingers are laid on the wet pink muscle, rubbing against it. Your eyes widen and another whine slides out around his fingers, muffled and wet. “There we go. Feels good doesn’t it?”
This man hasn’t even gotten you out of your clothing and you feel like you’re going to cum already. How he figured out your oral fixation you’ll never know but he’s exploiting it to it’s extent, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth. All you can do is cling to him and suck, little whimpers and moans falling out around his large fingers. Your hips start moving on their own accord, rolling against him until he’s tugging you into his lap, settling your aching core over his tented sweats.
His hand in your hair trails down to your hip, rolling you over his erection with a groan. Every noise you make spurs on his insatiable need, and even though he feels impatient, even though he feels like tearing through every layer of clothing you two currently have on, it’s nothing compared to the desperate way your hips are chasing your high.
“Shhhhh.” The hand at your hip cups your ass, squeezing the denim of your shorts. The seam presses into your dripping core, the pressure of it and his length currently pressing into it with every roll of your hips makes electricity creep up your spine. Your eyes widen and you begin sucking his fingers even harder as the band in your belly starts to tighten. “Go ahead. Go ahead angel, show me how good this feels.”
Your eyes drift shut and your brow furrows just as cutely as he knew it would. A single tear gathers on the corner of your shut eye and with a shudder you come apart on top of him, just from him grinding you down on him and letting you suck on his fingers. He guides your hips against him the whole way through it, waiting until your mouth lets up on his fingers. Waits until the fierce sucking of his fingers eases into small kitten licks and your hips slow to a stop.
“That good baby?”
You can’t believe you feel this good already. Your mind is already halfway numb from a combination of the weed and his overwhelming presence, but a shyness lingers around the edges of your psyche and you can’t help the flush that takes over your cheeks. His fingers draw out slow, gentle as he drags them down your lower lip and over your chin. Realization of how easily he’s turned you to putty in his hands washes over you and your eyes widen a fraction.
Embarrassed, you lean forward, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. His entire chest rumbles with a deep laugh that sounds more like a rumble. “I.. I’m sorry I….”
He shifts, moving the both of you. Your world spins and all of a sudden you find yourself still in his lap, but now he’s got his back against the headboard. “That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long fuckin time.”
Opening your mouth to apologize for a second time, you don’t even have the chance to say a single word when his mouth claims yours again. This kiss is hotter than the last one, a new burning passion to see you fall apart coming through every stroke of his lips. He swallows your whines, only breaking apart from you whip your shirt and hoodie off of your frame. You can’t even believe for a second that you let him, raising your arms to help.
The sight of you sitting there in your pretty lace bra lights an even hotter fire in onyx orbs. Fingers dance up your spine while he brings his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking a line across your jaw and down your neck. You melt, hands slipping underneath his shirt to trace your fingers along the ridges of his abdomen. You trace every muscle with curious fingertips until you splay your palms flat on his stomach pushing his shirt up and over his head.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” The compliment flows from his lips as he sucks on your collar bone. You’re grateful you have the next three days off, because the marks he’s leaving are going to be impossible to cover up. Another soft whine leaves your lips as his tongue flattens and runs over the swell of your breast. The sight of it makes fire lick up your insides but a flash of silver in the middle of the pink muscle makes you stop cold.
He has a fucking tongue piercing.
Currently he’s using that to his advantage as he slides your bra off, gathering both of your breasts in his hands and kneading the fat as he pushes them together. “Pretty fuckin’ tits. Fuckin’gorgeous.”
His thumb swirls over your nipple before he’s dragging his tongue over it so the ball of his piercing flicks it hard. You squeal, squirming in his hold. You’re tempted to dart out of his lap, roll off of him and take a breather but he bucks his hips up at the same time he scrapes his teeth across the stiffened peak and your head tips back, another sinful moan falling from your mouth.
He shifts and the world spins again, your back hitting the plush mattress as he leans over you, raining kisses down your rib cage, sucking on the skin so hard it bruises. He does this in a path all the way down your abdomen, and you never thought you’d be this needy after already cumming, but there is a pulsing want and ache that only he can fill pulsing in between your legs. You’re practically panting by the time he reaches the spot you need him the most.
Your thighs are practically shaking when his big hands grab the back, pushing them towards your chest. A sharp nose runs up the seam of your shorts up to the button. “W-Wait, I…”
“God you smell so fuckin good. I gotta taste you baby. Need to see how pretty she looks after she came for me.” Dark lashes brush his cheek bones as he looks up at you and pops the button of your shorts open with his teeth. You swallow thickly and thread your fingers into his hair, almost tugging it free from the ponytail it’s in as you lift your hips for him to slide your shorts off.
The rumbling growl that leaves his chest makes your eyes roll back, and your weeping hole to clench around nothing. His thumbs come up to your folds, spreading them open for him as you buck your hips up, chest heaving with deprived pants. “Please. Please.”
You beg without even really knowing what you’re begging for, just needing something, anything to relieve the fire that’s starting to consume. Your high still hasn’t worn off and the extra sensitivity from where his touch presses into you is driving you close to the edge. “Ken, please.”
“Look at me.” His rough tone is demanding, drawing your attention to him as your mouth twists in desperation. “Keep your eyes on me or I stop. Ya hear me angel?”
You nod, but his hand darts out to grab your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until you speak, your tone cracking a little with want. “Yes, I hear you.”
“Good girl.” His eyes stay on yours as he dips down, releasing your jaw in favor for spreading you wider. He purses his lips, before he lets out a long string of saliva, thumbs spreading you open again so he can watch as it drips in between your folds. You clench even though you’re achingly empty, a soft gasp filling the air in between you too. It bleeds into loud keen when his mouth finally touches you.
He sucks one of your folds into his mouth and your hands tighten in his hair as he alternates, sucking them until they turn puffy, swollen and aching with need. He moans into your pussy, running his tongue through your slick until the ball of his piercing flicks harshly against your clit. A squeal sounds from above him and he does it again, over and over until you’re bucking wildly onto his tongue.
He should prep you. He needs to prep you but your walls are already to spasm around his tongue and he’ll be damned if he lets you come anywhere but his cock.
Pulling away and sitting up just enough to work his dick out, he thrusts forward, his heavy, thick cock smacking against your abdomen. Your eyes fly open and you look down, letting out a desperate whine when you realize his length extends well past your belly button.
He’s got the prettiest, heaviest cock you’ve ever seen. Swollen and red, the slit weeping pretty pearls of precum that streak your stomach as he lets his length smack down on your abdomen again. “‘S not gonna fit.”
You look up at him with wide watery eyes, lips parted as you pant despondently. But no matter how much your voice shakes, your hips move, trying to slip him inside as desire takes over every cell in your body. “Ken, ‘s not gonna-”
He chuckles breathlessly, sweat starting to break out on his hairline as he draws back to rub the aching head of his cock along your folds. “‘S gonna fit angel. Imma make it fit.”
Slowly, he pushes in, head tilting back as he starts to push in despite the resistance he’s met with. You’re so fuckin’ tight he’s pretty sure that he’s already ready to blow his load and he’s only got the tip in. “Goddamn. Fuuuuuck.”
The little high pitched whines that fall from your plush mouth and he can’t helo but reach down and grab your waist in his broad hands. Grip bruinsingly tight, he fucks into you, pulling out and fucking back in shallowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your pussy is gripped around him so tight it’s practically strangling his cock. “Relax ‘f me. God you’re so fuckin’ tight angel. Need you to relax.”
A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, and his thumb drifts down to the little bundle of nerves that pokes out, working it in slow circles. Your thighs shake even more as you give. Your walls relax, eyes rolling back as his entire length finally sinks into you. A wet cry leaves your throat as tears leak from your eyes and the man above you lets out a moan so deep you feel it in your own soul. “There it is. Fuckin’ took the whole thing. Such a good girl.”
Your hands grip the sheets, lower lip trembling as a tiny sob leaves your mouth. “Ken… so full. I’m so full. ‘S too big Ken. ‘S too fucking bi-”
Before you can finish your sentence he’s pulling out and sliding back in, using the grip he has on your waist to drag you up and down his length. You cry out, loud and high as he bumps into your cervix. Your chest heaves and you squeeze your eyes shut as he starts to move you up and down. He’s so big and broad and strong all you can do is lay there and take it as he moves you up and down, eyes glued to the way your slick is coating his cock, how some of it sticks to his abdomen. Strings of slick connect the two of you as he moves you, practically the length of his cock, soaking even his thighs.
One of his warm palms spreads out over your abdomen and he pushes down on the bulge that’s appeared. His mouth practically pours out filth as he pushes on his cock pushing through your stomach and you scream his name. “Fuck baby. Look at that. Pokin’ through your stomach. You look so fuckin sexy like this. So fuckin pretty all fucked out on my cock. You like that baby?”
You nod, sobbing as he starts to move you faster, your clit hitting his pelvis with every rough smack of his hips. The orgasm that hits you, hits you out of nowhere, hard and fast and so overwhelming that you see nothing but pure white. “‘M cummin’ fuck fuck fuck fuck ‘m cummin!”
Your legs kick out and shake as your cream around his cock, a frothy ring of white forming as he fucks you. He hasn’t let up, his grip still tight on your waist as he moves you, rolling his hips into and fucking you onto him. His head dips down into the crook of your neck, heavy pants brushing past the skin of your neck as you sob and keen through your orgasm. Your hands fly up to bury into his hair, moving until your arms are wrapped around his neck. All you can do is hang on as he fucks up into, using your body for his pleasure. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well angel. You were made for it. Made to take my cock.”
His breath stutters on the sentence as your velvet walls pulse around him and you whimper, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders. His masculine scent envelopes you, and everything about him crowds your senses as he drives into you. The entire room is filled with the sounds of your slick squelching around his cock, the cries that fall from your mouth and the filthy words he breathes harshly into your ear.
“I’m gonna fill you up. I have to. Have to fill this fuckin’. Perfect. Pussy.” Each word of is enunciated by a sharp thrust of his hips and you practically wail out his name.
“Can’t.. Can’t take anymore Ken please.” Bleary, misty eyes look up at him, blinking past tears as your body jolts with the force of each thrust. His pace is picking up and he’s huffing out deep breaths, and you can tell by the way his abdomen tightens that he’s about to cum. His thrusts are getting sloppier, but you’re right on the edge with him, walls starting to clamp down again. “Ken I can’t!”
“You can.” He places a soft kiss right under your jaw, dragging his lips up until they’re resting against yours. “I know you can. Give me one more baby.”
You try to shake your head but your mouth falls open when a hand snakes between you two again and starts to make firm circles on your swollen puffy clit. “Ken.. please I…”
Your cheeks heat and your hiccup out an embarrassed sob. You’re not inexperienced by any means, but you’ve never had something that feels like this. That feels this overwhelming and good. You’ve never had someone who fills you this much, who hits every sensitive spot, whose cock is so big it sticks out from your tummy and pushes past your cervix with every sharp thrust. There’s a foreign feeling that’s settled in your stomach and it increases the more he plays with your clit and with every thrust that rams into the tight ring of muscle inside of you. Words tumble out before you can stop them and the minute they’re out, embarrassment and lust flood you in the same instant and it makes you dizzy. “Ken please.. Feel like I’m gonna go to the bathroom!”
A rumbling groan is the only answer and his thumb speeds up its pace, his thrusts sloppy. “Fuckin’ squirt baby. Squirt on my fuckin’ cock. I know you can. Make a mess ‘f me.”
Another sharp thrust and a pinch of your clit sends hurtling into oblivion as you do just that. Your last release comes squirting out of you, coating his hand, his thighs, the mattress, his abdomen. You feel it run down the swell of your ass as you cry, your nails clawing at his back as you call out his name, sobbing and cumming as he doesn’t relent, panting and groaning into your neck.
Hot ropes of cum start to coat your insides, filling you to the brim as he moans. It’s unhinged and messy, his cock head pushing past your cervix to coat your insides, filling your womb almost overly full. Your name leaves his mouth in a rumbling shout before his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting down to muffle the moans that leave his throat.
His hips finally slow and he lays his forehead into the crook of your neck, his hands drifting down to your quivering thighs, massaging them as you both catch your breath. You let your palms lay flat on his broad back, running them up and down as little shuddering breaths leave you.
Finally moving to look down at you, he blinks the sweat out of his eyes, brushing the hair out of yours. Both of you are a mess, covered in sweat and slick, your entire body marked with his love bites and his back scratched from your nails.
Bliss and submission is written over your face and your eyes drift shut as his palm comes to cup your cheek. You’re so good for him, it makes his chest squeeze tight. He’s already softening inside of you, and surprisingly, you both still feel a little high, the combination of pleasure, euphoria and rapture making it that much more heightened.
Both of you hiss as he slides out of you, moving so he’s hovering over you and bringing you to relax your legs completely. There’s a few moments of silence, soaking in each other’s presence.The air between you two settles into something you’re not sure you’re ready to name and you turn your head to say something to him, but find him already staring at you.
He pulls you onto his chest, uncaring of the sticky sweaty mess you’ve become. His hand drags up your spine slowly, gently, and he pushes your head down so it’s tucked onto his shoulder. Ken is gentle as he continues to rub up and down your spine, grounding you and bringing you back down to earth.
Humming contently, you drift until a rumbling laugh rouses you, and you move your chin until it rests on the top of his chest and you’re looking into those dark alluring eyes. Your hand comes up to trace the dragon tattoo on the smooth skin on the side of his head, following the inky black swirls as he continues to dance his fingertips up and down your skin.
“So… wanna smoke again?”
All works belong to @ kenuis do no repost anywhere else without permission.
cc: somnophilia, desperate humping, no nut november
NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet
MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DFI.
it’s eerily quiet. as expected late at night. sleep’s found itself evading gojo who lies still beside you. he tries to find some sort of way to help his restless mind cease but fails miserably. retracting the days events didn’t help, even going as far as to count was a futile effort. he gets sidetracked at thirty-seven to the sound of a deep sigh. he turns, leaning on his elbow to face you.
when his sight adjusts he gazes over your slumbering form. you’re facing away from him, ass jutted out inches away. his eyes follow the curve of your hip, the way your knee is positioned higher than the other.
cheeky girl, even unconscious, you’re driving him mad. tonight you wear an oversized t-shirt, his tee, nothing underneath but your cute little panties— oh you tease.
he remembers the downward curve of your lips when he taunted you about them earlier. the way you shivered as his fingertips caressed your hips. you wanted to give in so bad, it was all over your face. in the tiny little buck of your hips when his lips connected with your neck. in your pitiful whine when he pressed himself up against you. he almost had you…but not quite.
“you’re not off the hook yet,” you had chuckled before pulling away. you’d given him a chaste kiss before dancing out of his grasp. he watched as you go, chuckling lightly to be a good sport but beneath it all, gojo was devastated.
now your slumbering form is unaware of the soft schlicks coming from behind you. gojo doesn’t mean to, he can’t help it. all of this time— you should be proud of how long he’s gone without defying your wishes. naive and unknowing to the shameless thoughts running rampant through the man’s mind as he fought it.
his face adorns a bashbul blush as his teeth clench around the hem of his shirt. he inches his sweats down further; looking down he can see the way the light catches on the slick starting to gather at the tip. his thumb swipes it, palm dragging the moisture down his hard cock making him shudder a bit.
gojo groans as he pushes your shirt up higher. if he leans in close enough he can see the way the cotton material clings to your puffy outer lips.
your conditions were a bit difficult. when you first introduced the challenge to him the second week, he laughed. real funny. but you laughed too…yet you were serious.
your tired grumbles don’t go unnoticed by his ear. he shifts until he’s pressing up against your rear, his head propped on a hand, elbow mashing against the pillows. he steadies his palm on his cock, not ready yet. his lips brush your neck, your ear, leaving the softest of kisses on your cheek.
it started off fine.
“those are the conditions. the best you could come up with?” he had teased. “sure ill play along, this’ll be a walk.”
he could do it. it was only about three weeks right? all he had to do was not think of anything remotely exciting. then you had to make it hard. deliberate or not, it was driving him nuts, it wasn’t fair! walking around in nothing but his shirts, fluttering your lashes up at him, talking to him with a purr in your tone.
by day eight he was losing it. when you brushed up against him in the kitchen on day last week, he caved in, locking himself in the bedroom to edge himself, feigning a stomach ache when you bugged him, oh so concerned! he bitterly thought of you that day as he thrusted his hips against pillow, shamelessly wishing it was your mouth.
was it cheating? so what. yesterday, he was so out of it. his mind only plagued by what the hell he was gonna do you when it was over. he couldn’t even be in the same room. when you’d approach he’d give you only but a fleeting kiss before mumbling about something he forgot to do.
gojo now presses further until he’s almost aligned with the cleft of your ass. this’ll work though.
it starts with a small roll of his hips, one that causes your t-shirt to ride a bit. he moves it out of the way, the fabric a nuisance. a barrier. he opts for the frilly feel of your panties instead.
he tries not to be loud, really he does but the way you’re sighing and shifting, it only makes the blood rush straight to his dick and his groans louder. only he doesn’t mean to dig his nails that deep into the grip of your side. you stir seconds later, letting out unintelligible whimpers before blinking awake.
“uhn…gojo what’re-”
“shhh, its nothin’ go back to sleep,” but its not nothing, you could feel something hot and hard rutting against your ass, his hand heavily cinching your waist to hold you in place.
you’re awake now but it doesn’t matter, he’s not done. just hold still for a little while longer. let him get off for all the days he’s been good. fortunately, you comply, you teeth worrying your lip as you tremble in his grasp.
“hmm…nng…fuck,”
he moves closer as if he’s wanting to become one. his desperation would’ve been funny had it been any other circumstance. one where he isn’t waking you up by rutting against your body like a mutt. you turn over and gojo shifts until he’s fully on top of you, his cock heavily resting on your thigh. you make the mistake of looking up at him. the way his eyes catches on what little pale light was in the room made him look inhuman. his usually piercing blue eyes, dark.
he buries his face in your neck, inhales your clean scent. he feels a bit of shame but with how your soft plush thighs feel against his hard cock, he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. his hips began to move, slow at first to feel the sensation of you against him.
wetness oozes onto your skin, the sticky texture unmistakably his arousal. you dare not move as he continued to drag his cock along your dampening panties, the apex behind them beginning to clench and drool. the sounds he makes right next to your ear were breathless and downright sinful, desperation dripping in every whine. his lips messily sought out your own, the exchange a clash of lips, teeth and drool.
he’s fully in between your legs now, cock grinding against your clothed cunny. you can’t help but mewl as he presses further, the tip catching on your sweet clit. your stomach heaves as you look down, angry leaking tip moving up against your cunt. his large palms grab at your thighs, pushing them flat against the bed as he continues to buck his hips.
“gojo…” you whisper, clinging to him.
“I’m almost-fuck,” his hips gain momentum, he’s full on humping you as if he’s actually inside. the friction is delicious on both ends—he hits an angle and your bud rubs against him again. it isn’t until your hips jut up to chase him and his reckless thrusting when he shudders with a broken whine.
“mmmg…!” gojo twitches, slowly rolling his hips until he stills, licking at the corner of your mouth and placing a quick kiss.
he falls back on his side of the bed, his softening cock pressing against the waistband of his sweats, a cocky grin on his face.
“you couldn’t just wait?” you hiss in the darkness once your heart steadied.
“its your fault for making me do this silly challenge anyway.” he leans in closer, warmth tickling your ear as he hums, “and honestly, i could’ve done a whole lot worse.”
his fingers starts to dip past your waistband but you shy away, warmth flooding you face and belly at his words.
“besides, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were asking with this sorry excuse of sleepwear. look! you’re even wearing my favorite panties. special occasions and all that right?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.
you get up, and as you walk to the bathroom, you can hear gojo’s low chuckles. not only did he make a mess out of you but left you needy for more, an itch he purposely placed, a seed deliberately planted. you wonder if it was payback for these few two weeks leaving him unsatisfied with your teasing.
from the bed, gojo glances at his phone, grinning as his hand wraps around his cock again. after weeks of enduring your stupid challenge it’s time for his game.
it’s december 1st after all.
DILFOS. all rights reserved. do not plagiarize or modify my content. current or archival.
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