If you're having a bad day, Shuji would tease the shit out of you and even make fun of your grumpy face and the situation. He just tries to cheer you up and get you to laugh but if you snap at him or even start to cry, his palms get sweaty and his stomach drops to his knees, his head going into panic mode "shit shit shit" is all he can think of.
So without thinking much further he would pull you into a tight hug, one long arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand resting at the back of your head, gently caressing your hair. "You know I didn't mean it like that... wanna go for a milkshake or something? It's on me" he mumbles and you can hear that he's really regretting it. He never meant to take it too far and he's so helpless, not knowing how to make it up again.
@virtue-and-beneviolence I'm back for chaos and destruction
there are a couple of drawbacks to being with a curse, romantically speaking. mahito, though, would like to remind you . . . there are also some benefits.
cw: not sfw. reader is afab, but no gendered pronouns are used. mahito's transformative powers are used (tongue, shifting genital size). oral (reader receiving), edging. the softest mahito i can possibly write, but there's still . . . an edge to him! pet names including 'cutie' and 'darling'.
this was a commissioned work.
Nights like this, you can almost forget that what you and Mahito have isn’t normal.
Mahito sits beside you on your sofa, his body curled about you like a cat. Arms wrapped about your waist, head lolling against your shoulder, so close that you can see every stitch that decorates his body, smell his peculiar springtime-and-sweet-rot scent every time you breathe in. It is not an entirely unpleasant scent - and it’s one that you relax into, that makes you feel like you’re at home.
The television is blaring some choice of movie that Mahito had picked out from your collection - he’s always fascinated by your tastes, prodding and poking you to explain why you have this one, what do you like about it, won’t you sit and watch it with him--?
You, of course, are helpless to resist doing anything the curse asks of you.
Tonight’s choice is a romantic thriller. There’s some plot about a secret document and an FBI agent and star-crossed lovers on the wrong sides of a dispute; but you’ve reached your own favourite part of the movie by now. The two lovers are taking a stroll through a beachside amusement park - one of those tacky things that’s all painted striped sidings and romantic carnival games. One of the lovers wins a small stuffed animal in a shooting game booth, only for their partner to win the jackpot, a huge and luridly pastel bunny clasped between them. They share a pink cotton candy in the shape of a heart, ride a Tunnel of Love, share a kiss at the very top of a ferris wheel--
And quite against your will, quite unexpectedly, as you watch this show of romantic affection - your heart gives a sickening lurch in your chest.
You have always wanted that, too.
You have watched this movie plenty of times and imagined yourself on this date; fluttering your lashes demurely at the attendant at the Tunnel of Love, revelling in the fond glances of passers-by as you and your beloved take a photograph of you with the giant bear or rabbit or panda they won for you. You have daydreamed about romance and dates and showing off your beau to everyone you meet--
And though you are not lonely, for nobody who had Mahito as a paramour could ever feel that way . . . there is a soft little empty ache inside of you that reminds you that what you have is not quite the fairytale of your dreams.
“Hey,” Mahito’s voice is pouty as he shifts against you, silken silver hair brushing your arm. He gives you a poke that just manages to avoid being painful. “You’re not paying attention. What are you thinking about?”
You start guiltily and look at him. Curious bicoloured eyes stare up at you; he doesn’t look angry. He seems more amused. Your little mortal foibles are a source of endless fascination for him.
“I was watching the movie,” you say to him, which isn’t entirely true. And then you say; “I was thinking about going on dates.”
And that one is entirely true.
There are problems with the romantic relationship you share with Mahito. Some of them are more obvious than others; at his very core, he is not really human, and you do not know how much he feels human emotions. He has an intense fondness and affection for you, yes - but you know, too, that he is capable of great hatred in the name of his boundless curiosity and the purposes which formed him. Whenever he tells you about his experiments, though, and you show a brief flare of disquiet . . . Mahito giggles and pokes your cheeks and bestows cool kisses all over your face, decrying passionately;
“Not you, cutie. Not ever you. You’re my favourite!”
That should bother you more, you think - and yet, as you watch this romance unfold on screen and these two actors play-act at the perfect date . . . you find that the thing that makes you ache most about being with Mahito is not what he might do, not what he has done, not even the things he tells you he’s going to do to mortals who do not have as much of his favour and adoration as you do . . . but that you will never get this brand of hokey romance.
It’s rare enough that you have the ability to see him - if you were to take him to a funfair like this one, you would surely just look like one person wandering around, all alone. How sad you would seem on the Tunnel of Love, on a single boat with no lover to share it with - nobody would give you admiring looks or whisper behind their hands what a cute couple you and Mahito make.
And it is not just the date.
There will never be pictures all over your house of Mahito and you. You’re not even sure he would show up in the photographs, if you tried to take them. There will be no wedding, no holidays, no official moving in day (Mahito does live with you, but that was rather more like a cat choosing its owner, making itself at home with no formal invitation). You will never be able to introduce him to your friends and family, nor even talk about him to them, lest they want to meet him and then discover the truth of what he is (that is, if they could even see him).
You have known all of this in the back of your mind. You’ve pushed it back watching gory horror movies and fantasy and science fiction, giving Mahito copies of your favourite books to read - but suddenly now, faced with this movie and the simplicity of ‘going on a date with somebody you care about’ . . . it has all come crashing to the forefront, and you feel an empty ache of something you will never truly have.
“I’ll go on a date with you!” Mahito chirps it easily. Helplessly, you flutter your hands around, trying to grasp for the right words. “Mmm, I could take you to the place I used to live? Ah, or the movie theatre? We might have to try a late-night showing, but . . .”
“That’s not it,” you say, and you realise in frustration that your voice cracks. Mahito stiffens at the emotion in your voice - and then moves, getting onto his knees, gathering the long lithe limbs of his body together so that he can take your chin in his hand and force you to look at him. “I just . . . it’s all so romantic, you know? A-and we . . . we won’t get anything like that--”
His face is quizzical; eyes wide, one eyebrow cocked, mouth pursed in thought. He’s beautiful even like that - the stitches that bisect his face serving to give him a kind of inhuman beauty that makes your heart drum against your ribcage.
“And I want to!” You continue, suddenly worried that he’ll take your frustration at the situation as frustration about him. “I want to show you off! I want to make my friends jealous and d-do all those normal couple things--”
Realisation dawns over his face.
“Oh,” he says. And then, this time, a smile splitting his face like the cat that has gotten the cream; “Oh. Darling. Oh.”
You squirm under his gaze, your face heating up; and a familiar feeling low in your stomach and between your thighs that Mahito’s pleased purr has drawn out.
Before you can breathe, Mahito has manoeuvred you into the exact position he wants you in - and you are laid out on your own couch with the curse atop of you, straddling your waist. One hand reaches down to cup your cheek, his thumb pressing into the soft skin there. He lowers his face until it’s so close you can see your own reflection in his eyes.
“Cutie,” he breathes, the word full of intent. “You’re right in that I can’t give you that kind of thing . . . But don’t you think human romance can be so boring? So predictable?” He rolls the words around in his mouth, savouring them, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smile that’s almost lascivious. “Do you need me to remind you of all of the benefits of having something like me as a lover?”
Your pulse rabbits, and you know that Mahito can surely sense how it quickens - can probably smell the way your desire has spiked in the air, can certainly see how your eyes have gone dark and wide, the way that your breath escapes your parted lips.
He leans down and kisses you, hard; his mouth cool against yours, his teeth automatically nipping at your bottom lip. Your own mouth falls open in a silent surrender, and Mahito’s tongue greedily brushes over your own. That spot just behind your front teeth, on the roof of your mouth . . . and you realise with a start that Mahito’s tongue isn’t quite human.
He pulls back with a satisfied grin, humming low in the back of his throat - and you see a flash of that inhuman tongue he has crafted, longer and thicker than any mortal tongue has ever been.
“What kind of things do you think I could do with this?” He asks you, letting it loll out a little. The expression should by rights look silly; but on Mahito it looks dangerous and horribly attractive all at once. You feel your cheeks go hot, your body squirm beneath him. “Aww! You’re too shy to tell me?”
He laughs, and like liquid, he slides himself off of you and onto his knees on the floor. Strong, long fingers tug at your body, moving you like a doll, until you are sitting in front of him and he is between your legs, your back against the sofa cushions. Seeing Mahito’s curious eyes peering at you from there, you know exactly what kind of thing he has in mind, and your stomach twists in pleasurable anticipation.
“Let’s get these off of you,” he says, tugging at your clothes. “So impractical! You should just not bother with clothes when we’re alone.”
Your bottoms and underwear slip easily from your hips and thighs - ignored and tossed aside by Mahito, who has a one-track mind when he has something he has set his sights on. And what he has currently set his sights on is what lies between your legs. He nudges his cheek against your thigh, an impatient order for you to spread - and who are you to deny him?
“Oh!” He exclaims in glee, as you shyly part them and he sees your sex, glistening wet for him. “Mmm, you’re excited for this too?” That too-big tongue is peeking out from between his lips, and as you look at it the tip changes just a little; becomes somewhat more bulbous, more like the head of a cock-- “Don’t be getting all nervous on me, now!”
You let out a soft noise of surprise as Mahito dives between your legs with no more fanfare than that.
Mahito does all things with enthusiasm, whether you’re prepared for them or not; and you are not prepared for the way one of your thighs is easily slung over his muscular shoulder, or the peculiar feeling of the tongue he has transfigured as it laps down your heated core in one long, quick movement. Mahito moans in pleasure at the way your thighs tense, the taste of you spilling over his lips - pauses after his lick to whisper;
“I could eat you alive, you taste so sweet--”
And then turns back to the task at hand with gleeful abandon.
Your fingers find purchase on the edge of the sofa cushion, your other hand going almost automatically to tangle in Mahito’s silky silvery locks. He doesn’t seem to care about how they tug on his hair a bit; instead, he merely moans into your sex and redoubles his efforts.
Messily, he laps and licks at you - that inhuman tongue covers more of your folds than should be possible, almost as if he wants to make good on the promise to eat you alive. Every so often, you feel the dangerous brush of teeth against your most sensitive parts; but Mahito doesn’t let it be any more than a hint, the slightest graze. He’s far too busy drinking you in like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
It’s more rigid than a human tongue should be, too; when it teases at your entrance, drawing circles around it, your hips jerk up towards it in surprise from how much it feels like a finger or something even bigger. Mahito lets out a huff of laughter, thrusts it in just a few scant centimetres - and pulls back, leaving your channel aching and tingling with desire to be filled with something for far longer than he let you.
He moves his attentions to your clit instead; toying with the bud, rolling it with his tongue, flickering the tip against the swollen little bud until you are tugging harder at his hair, whining softly, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. He never gives quite enough pressure to let you come. Instead, the way he’s playing with you has little bubbles of arousal coursing through your veins, letting you teeter on the very edge, your climax almost almost in view--
Before he pulls back, lavishes wet kisses on your thighs instead, leaving you trembling on the edge of an orgasm that he isn’t yet ready to let you fall head-first into.
“M-Mahito . . .” You manage to whine out, though you feel breathless and light-headed. “D-don’t tease me--”
He stops and looks up at you from between your legs; you’re struck by how beautiful he is, even with your own slick making his mouth and chin shiny. His eyes are lit bright, lips smiling, silver hair all ruffled. There’s something inhuman in him, yes - but like this, it’s a beautiful inhumanity, like an angel. A smirk curls his mouth.
“But you’re so cute when I do!”
He ducks his head down again, his tongue back to its incessant working over of your sex. Your body thrums with tension that has not been allowed to come to a head; you whimper out your desire to be allowed more, but Mahito does not seem to care. You’re clearly just too cute to him utterly at his mercy; trembling and sweating and hoping that he’ll take a little pity on you.
He alternates between fucking shallowly into you with his inhuman tongue (not deep enough, never deep enough), and playing with your clit. Circling it, suckling on it, treating your spread thighs like a dessert buffet to be sampled and toyed with. You want him to eat his fill. The longer he spends edging you, teasing you, not letting you come . . . The hazier you begin to feel.
Your breath comes in short sharp little gasps, your chest heaving. You think you must be on fire.
“M-Mahito . . . ‘hito . . .” You’re practically hiccuping out the words. Your voice is a slurred mess of a thing. “Need to . . . Please . . . ‘m sorry, you’re . . .”
His mouth separates from you. A lewd gossamer strand of your arousal clings to the corner of his mouth, connecting your sex and his lips.
“Poor thing,” he coos. “You really need it, don’t you? You need me to give you what you want?”
He lets the question stretch in the air until you can get your tongue around the question.
“Yes,” you manage to moan out, your voice soft and small and pathetic. “Mahito . . . please make me come--”
His teeth glint bright in the light of the living room, and then he is diligently bent between your legs again, and his lips fasten around the pearl of your clit.
This time, he doesn’t pull back as the wave crests the shore. This time, Mahito keeps his mouth around it; keeps sucking and licking, keeps flicking the tip of his tongue over it, until the tide crashes over you and you think that you might black out from the sheer force of the pleasure finally being allowed to reach its zenith.
You’re crackling. Floating on air. A slick gush of more of your arousal paints Mahito’s face, your toes curling, your mouth slack and wide open, as the orgasm does not so much ‘wash’ over you as it drowns you, fills every one of your senses with nothing but its inescapable warmth and comfort and rapture.
Mahito’s eyes look up at you from between your legs, drinking in the way that your satisfaction changes the taut lines of your face and body. He mouths something that you don’t hear, because of the roar of contentment that drowns out everything but the pools of heat that are supposed to be your body.
(If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say . . . that the shape of his lips almost seemed like he murmured ‘perfect’).
He stands and you are boneless to do anything but watch him, dazed from the release he’s finally allowed you to feel. He shrugs off his shirt without a care in the world, pushing his sweatpants down - he wears no underwear, and you watch as his body moves and ripples and suddenly between his toned thighs where there once was nothing, is a cock standing hard to attention with pearly beads of precome gathering on the head.
“Not too big?” He coos at you, as he curls his hands beneath your knees and moves your position so that you’re entirely at his mercy once more, hard cock nudging between the lips of your sex. You look up at him, panting. You can’t make any noises other than a whine, canting your hips forward in a motion that is clearly meant to read ‘get on with it and fuck me’. He laughs. “Alright, cutie! We’ll see what you can take when I’m inside of you, hmm?”
Your body is entirely willing as Mahito thrusts and his cock sinks as deep into you as it can go, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen clit as he bottoms out. He lets out a groan of satisfaction deep and low that whispers pleasurably down your spine. The position you’re in doesn’t quite let you cling to Mahito, so instead you grip the cushions and prepare to be fucked.
Not that you have any complaints about that.
Mahito doesn’t take his time with this, either; he immediately slides into a rhythm that, had you not been wet from the way he’d lavished you with his tongue and dreamy from your orgasm, would almost be painful. Instead, it veers on almost-too-much-but-not-quite - Mahito’s hips sliding backwards and forwards, the shaft of his cock sliding in and out with a delicious wet friction that makes goosebumps rise over your bare skin.
You don’t realise it until you hear it, but you’re moaning with every thrust.
“Oh, you like this?” Mahito murmurs, smiling down at you. There’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “Mm . . . I think this might be better if I was a little thicker, don’t you?”
You feel the way his cock shifts inside of you - the way that the slick tunnel of your sex constricts around the thing inside of it, thicker than it was before, bigger. You can hear your heart beating in your ears. It’s even too much for Mahito - his pace stutters, his eyes rolling back into his head and a guttural groan of pleasure falling from his lips.
“I--I wouldn’t need to make you tighter,” he says, his voice dreamy. “You fit like a glove--”
You lose sense of time for a while after that.
There is only the sensation of Mahito inside of you, your heart beating in your chest, Mahito’s breath and yours intermingling. The way that his cock flexes inside of you, expanding by the tiniest of increments until you feel so full you could burst, deeper and wider and more than you’ve ever taken before. Mahito whispers soft praise to you, telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him . . .
And making you shudder and shake, filling you up, rubbing himself against you. You moan and whine and pant and thrust your hips - skin slapping against skin, the hot tight knot of pleasure inside of you threatening to unravel with every slight movement.
“You’re going to come again for me,” Mahito says to you, when you feel stretched to the very limit - when he is barely fucking into you any more, because he’s filled you up so well that the pleasure comes from the feel of him and not from the movement. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” A hand drops your knee; slips between your legs to roughly draw jagged circles over your clit.
Your moan seems to hover in the air, a shimmering moment - this one final movement is too much. You see stars as the knot breaks and heat flows through your body like the blood in your veins, your fingers and toes tingling, your sex pulsing about Mahito’s cock.
It’s too much for him too. With a cry of your name, Mahito’s hips stutter once, twice, and then the cock inside of you pulses in tandem with your body and you feel something thick and cool coat your insides, ropes of Mahito’s release claiming your body as his (as if he needed to)--
While you’re still half-delirious with the aftershocks of your release, he changes his cock just enough to slide out of you. His come and your own wetness have probably left a stain on the sofa, but you cannot bring yourself to care right there and then.
And neither can he.
Mahito sighs in pleasure, collapsing on top of you in a way that somehow manages to be elegant. Your breath comes in soft pants, between your thighs still aching a little from the way Mahito had played with size and shape inside of you, stretching you out. He’s like a cat once more with the way he immediately makes your hapless body his home, curling his head upon your shoulders and his arms around you, slotting himself into your lap.
“Don’t you think that’s so much more pleasurable than anything a normal lover could do?” He asks you, a little smug. He nuzzles his face against you affectionately, always tactile, always wanting to touch you, always fascinated and adoring.
“. . . Yes,” you admit to him, breathlessly. Your throat still feels a touch dry from the pleasured noises that Mahito had wrung from you. “You’re better than any human could ever be.”
Mahito laughs wild and bright, his eyes flashing in the light. He reaches up and pulls you into another messy kiss; hand wrapping around the back of your neck, tongues and teeth clashing, claiming ownership of you and giving you parts of himself in one fell swoop.
“You’re better than any other human will ever be,” he tells you, perfectly sincerely. “The only one I could ever - will ever - want. And I want you forever.”
You do not know if Mahito is really capable of love, in the way that you love him. A creature made from human’s hatred will perhaps never know love in that sense of the word. But for Mahito--
That is simply how he would say ‘I love you’, in his own peculiar way.
“Princess, can I ask you something?” He speaks, breaking the silence of the long, uneventful car ride. “Sure, anything!” You chirp, unsuspecting of what is to come.
“Why don’t you ever let me do anything for you?” Ushijima says, his eyes remain fixated on the long stretch of roads ahead. The fog heavily roll down the sides the hills on your either sides, lowering visibility. His hand tightens around the wheel, while the other grips yours.
“What do you mean by that?” You sit back, eyes wandering his features, looking for any sign that he’s just cheerfully asking you. Knowing Ushi though, he’s sometimes not as light hearted as you’d think.
“You are always so insistent on doing everything yourself. You won’t let me help you, like earlier, when you refused to let me tie your shoes. That isn’t the first time you refused my help.” He goes on a spiel, his thumb reaches to the toggle and lowers the volume, making his breathing more prominent than ever. It has occur to you that you have always been doing everything by yourself despite his looming figure always by your side. The hyperindependence is slowly starting to bother him. He wants to help you, wants to give you the fullest extent of a princess treatment yet the only thing really holding him back from that is, you.
“It’s just something that I could easily have done for myself, you didn’t need to bother with that, don’t worry, baby,” you try to comfort him, hoping some words of affirmation can help. It really isn’t a big deal, it’s some shoe laces that came undone, not a heavy errand.
As soon as the car is pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, quickly shifting the car in “park”, turning to you and he sighs. A real sigh. One so full of frustration and… hopelessness. “I’m not bothered. It has never mattered how big or small anything is, I want to do everything for you. Why are you holding yourself back from me?” He is starting to put things into perspective for you. After going through a useless ex-boyfriend, then a man who gave you hot and cold attention, lastly a guy who gave you princess treatment to fill his inflated ego before meeting Ushijima, learning to only rely on yourself has been the protector of your heart, your soul and your sanity. You find that by depending on your good ol’ self is the only way to prevent yourself from throwing your body off a bridge.
“Ushi, it’s not—,” before you can finish your sentence, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. He’s right, you are holding yourself back from him. Holding yourself back from the hurt that you’ve known all too well, he interrupts, holding both your hands in his, “baby, you’re my priority, my everything, your well-being, happiness and comfort are my main concerns and I want it to be that way,” he stops, taking a breath. Reminiscent of the times where Ushijima offered to go so out of his way to help you but being kindly turned down has left him feeling absolutely useless and uneasy. Ushijima’s love language is act of service and because he hasn’t been able to do the bare minimum for you, he feels it eating him alive.
“I am aware of your past, I know that I can’t change what was, but I’m here to make a difference now, I mean it!” You are moved by his words, he means what he says and you know it. You’ve seen it. He’s a big man of his words, always keeping promises, has never ever disappointed you in any way. Yet the walls have been reinforced many times again that it has cemented itself in your life, creating a barrier between the two of you. “I want to open doors for you, pull out chairs for you, pick you up from a friend’s house, drop you off at the airport, all of that, please, baby, please just let me.” You have to say, it is like he is begging for you to allow him in, allow him to integrate further into your system, a system you’ve built to keep you from going down a slippery slope time and time again.
“I’m so grateful for you, Ushi, you’ve done so much for me, you really have. I just feel like I can’t be asking for anymore than what you’ve already given me,” before you can inhale a full breath, he branches his body over to your side of the car and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you melt. “I’m at your disposal, you are my world, let me in, don’t keep shutting me out,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.
You chuckle, “yes, Wakatoshi, I accept your offer,” and you’ve never seen him smile wider. A big, toothy grin coming from the infamously stoic dude. He kisses you again, “thank you, baby.”
He unbuckles your seatbelt, hastily running from his side to yours and opening the door for you, and just like the universe is rooting for the both of you, your shoe laces come undone, again.
“Princess, can I ask you something?” He speaks, breaking the silence of the long, uneventful car ride. “Sure, anything!” You chirp, unsuspecting of what is to come.
“Why don’t you ever let me do anything for you?” Ushijima says, his eyes remain fixated on the long stretch of roads ahead. The fog heavily roll down the sides the hills on your either sides, lowering visibility. His hand tightens around the wheel, while the other grips yours.
“What do you mean by that?” You sit back, eyes wandering his features, looking for any sign that he’s just cheerfully asking you. Knowing Ushi though, he’s sometimes not as light hearted as you’d think.
“You are always so insistent on doing everything yourself. You won’t let me help you, like earlier, when you refused to let me tie your shoes. That isn’t the first time you refused my help.” He goes on a spiel, his thumb reaches to the toggle and lowers the volume, making his breathing more prominent than ever. It has occur to you that you have always been doing everything by yourself despite his looming figure always by your side. The hyperindependence is slowly starting to bother him. He wants to help you, wants to give you the fullest extent of a princess treatment yet the only thing really holding him back from that is, you.
“It’s just something that I could easily have done for myself, you didn’t need to bother with that, don’t worry, baby,” you try to comfort him, hoping some words of affirmation can help. It really isn’t a big deal, it’s some shoe laces that came undone, not a heavy errand.
As soon as the car is pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, quickly shifting the car in “park”, turning to you and he sighs. A real sigh. One so full of frustration and… hopelessness. “I’m not bothered. It has never mattered how big or small anything is, I want to do everything for you. Why are you holding yourself back from me?” He is starting to put things into perspective for you. After going through a useless ex-boyfriend, then a man who gave you hot and cold attention, lastly a guy who gave you princess treatment to fill his inflated ego before meeting Ushijima, learning to only rely on yourself has been the protector of your heart, your soul and your sanity. You find that by depending on your good ol’ self is the only way to prevent yourself from throwing your body off a bridge.
“Ushi, it’s not—,” before you can finish your sentence, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. He’s right, you are holding yourself back from him. Holding yourself back from the hurt that you’ve known all too well, he interrupts, holding both your hands in his, “baby, you’re my priority, my everything, your well-being, happiness and comfort are my main concerns and I want it to be that way,” he stops, taking a breath. Reminiscent of the times where Ushijima offered to go so out of his way to help you but being kindly turned down has left him feeling absolutely useless and uneasy. Ushijima’s love language is act of service and because he hasn’t been able to do the bare minimum for you, he feels it eating him alive.
“I am aware of your past, I know that I can’t change what was, but I’m here to make a difference now, I mean it!” You are moved by his words, he means what he says and you know it. You’ve seen it. He’s a big man of his words, always keeping promises, has never ever disappointed you in any way. Yet the walls have been reinforced many times again that it has cemented itself in your life, creating a barrier between the two of you. “I want to open doors for you, pull out chairs for you, pick you up from a friend’s house, drop you off at the airport, all of that, please, baby, please just let me.” You have to say, it is like he is begging for you to allow him in, allow him to integrate further into your system, a system you’ve built to keep you from going down a slippery slope time and time again.
“I’m so grateful for you, Ushi, you’ve done so much for me, you really have. I just feel like I can’t be asking for anymore than what you’ve already given me,” before you can inhale a full breath, he branches his body over to your side of the car and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you melt. “I’m at your disposal, you are my world, let me in, don’t keep shutting me out,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.
You chuckle, “yes, Wakatoshi, I accept your offer,” and you’ve never seen him smile wider. A big, toothy grin coming from the infamously stoic dude. He kisses you again, “thank you, baby.”
He unbuckles your seatbelt, hastily running from his side to yours and opening the door for you, and just like the universe is rooting for the both of you, your shoe laces come undone, again.
⌗ hurt/comfort. soft dom ran. fluff. arguing. mentions of brothels. n.sfw but no smut - mdi. @tokyometronetwork |tr masterlist|
"baby, c'mon—why wont you just look at me?"
"i'm tired of this, ran," you cry out as you make your way into your shared penthouse, throwing your heels that he bought you haphazardly across the foyer, "i'm-i'm tired of your lies, tired of being manipulated all the time, it's not fucking fair to me,"
you don't look back at him, continuing to walk straight into the bedroom, your blood feels like hot fire as it boils in your veins.
"aren't you listening to what i'm trying to say?" he replies, feeling his frustration build, "she means nothing to me."
he trails behind you, stopping the bedroom door with his fist when you almost slam it into his face, "you say it every time! and you even told me you blocked her—you didn't need to lie to me, ran." your voice cracks and you start feeling a lump build in your throat. the feeling of betrayal sinks deep into your bones and it takes everything inside of you to not break down in front of him.
"princess—"
"you don't get to call me that." you cut him off, brows knitted together, and as much as you tried holding back your tears—you felt them bead at your lash line, blurring your vision, threatening to fall.
he sighs, clenching his fist. he makes no effort to move from his place by the door of your shared bedroom. he watches as you pace around the space, stripping yourself of the silky, tight dress you wore to the dinner date he took you out to.
he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't make his blood run south.
"and you gave her the freedom to call you whenever! it's almost like you want her to call. honestly, ran—i feel stupid for trusting you," you ramble, and he lets you. watching as you run around the room putting things away, and making sure your face is turned away from him as you talk.
if this was any other time—he'd punish you for raising your voice and giving him an attitude. but this time, he lets you pour your heart out—wanting to hear all of your pent up emotions.
"i just—i don't know what there is about her, th-that i don't have, i don't-" you feel a large hand suddenly grip your face, cutting you off, firmly squishing your cheeks together. he forces you to face him.
"you done?" he asks, violet eyes staring down at your teary ones.
"fuck off-" you try turning your face away from him but his grip doesn't waver. it keeps you in place, right where he wants you.
"look at me when i'm speaking to you." his fingers dig into your cheeks, but not hard enough to hurt you, "i said, are you done?"
you sniffle, choosing to look anywhere but his eyes. your heart burns and aches in your chest, and the growing lump in your throat hurts.
"is t-there something i lack?" you whisper, and the tears finally fall. they travel down your cheeks, wetting your skin.
ran's eyes grow soft as they look at you. his thumb that rests on your cheek wipes away the tears under your eyes—not caring that his palm is getting wet.
"oh baby," he says softly, the corners of his lips turning down at the sight of your tears. he doesn't like seeing you cry, especially if it's because of him. "you're everything i've ever wanted."
"it doesn't seem like it, ran," you say, your watery eyes finally meeting his, "you can't keep doing this to me," your voice wavers, and more tears continue to fall as you try your best to choke back a sob.
he takes this moment to fully admire you—your eyes, the way your lashes darken with the tears, your lips glossy and puckered. and all he can think is—
he is so lucky to have you.
"she's nothing to me. but you? my baby is everything to me," he says, "i was only speaking to her because she manages one of the brothels i own."
you look away, but his eyes never leave your face, "'n my baby has nothing to worry about."
you stay silent for a moment, thinking about "we could've avoided this is if you just told me."
"well if you would've given me a chance to talk this would've been over a lot sooner," he laughs softly.
"you really know how to get me worked up, huh?" his hold weakens, fingers lightly tracing your face. "silly girl, you know i love you so much, right?"
you feel heat rush to your face at his words, and you roll your eyes playfully. "oh? well i don't know-"
"hush, you little crybaby," he says, smiling at you.
"she could never be you, she could never do this to me," he takes your hand with his free one and guides it to the obvious bulge in his pants, "see what you do to me?"
you laugh, sniffling and wiping your tears, "you're just saying that to cover up the fact that you got hard over me yelling at you.”
his grin widens, "can't help it, you're so hot when you're angry." he loosens the grip on your face and instead, cups your cheek with one large, calloused hand.
"i'm sorry for lashing out, i was just–frustrated," you tell him, fidgeting with your fingers.
"you better be," he smirks, "if this were any other time, i'd take you over my knee for raising your voice at me."
you visibly shudder, reminding yourself that he really isn't joking.
"c'mon, pretty girl, join me in the shower?" he pulls away from you, turning his back and walking towards the master bathroom while unbuttoning his white dress shirt. the fabric slowly peeling away from his body.
you don't reply to him, choosing to watch him slowly rid himself of his clothes, his broad shoulders flexing with every movement. you trace the large, black tattoos that litter the entire half of his body.
you join him. again, and again—he shows you how much he truly loves you the entire night.
I promised ya’ll and AU fluff for the 100 Follower Celebration, and here it is! Sorry it took a little longer than usual…Too much freedom, brain go brrrzzzt. I hope you enjoy it!
I had Gavin brain rot today.... Must of have been the ASMR I fell asleep to last night >.< Anyhooooo I hope you enjoy!
Sometimes you wish you had courage to tell Gavin just how you really felt about him. Being good friends was great and all but you have loved the man since high school. You know you should be working on your report due at the end of the week, laptop and files spread out on the coffee table in front of you but instead you’re caught up watching him strum on his guitar on his couch. Just when you really start day dreaming of what could be, he looks up catching you staring. His ears turn peony pink and you feel your cheeks getting hot. You busy yourself on the laptop, hoping this awkward moment will just pass please. You don’t hear him move from his spot on the couch to sit beside you.
“Whatcha working on?” his gentle voice right by your ear, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire.
“R-report for work. Victor wasn’t happy a-about the last version” you stammer out awkwardly as his hand reaches out to look at the file next to your hand. He’s too close, his knee up against your thigh, oh god don’t blow this y/n! He was close enough to smell his crisp, icy cologne and laundry soap. Typing away another paragraph of the report, he stretches and puts his arm across the air chair cushion behind you, rubbing your neck, feeling the tension coming off of you in waves.
“Relax a little. Work can wait a bit. I- ah wanted to talk to you about s-something.” He had to still be shocked from earlier. You slowly turn your head to look at him, what you weren’t expecting is his face close to yours. He takes your hand, the callouses on his fingertips scratching across the back of your hands as he searches for the words. His ears turning a darker pink and a dusting across his cheeks, his fingers weave through yours. All you hear is both of your breathing and the wind outside stirring up the autumn leaves. The silence is pregnant, anxiety spiking as you watch his clear amber eyes become shining.
“Y/n, I-I... Would....D-do you l-like...I lov-.” his resolve is wavering, your heart skipping a beat, could this be?! “I love you. It’s always been you, since spying on you in the music room.” Gavin’s fingers tightened their hold on your hand, the gingko bracelet tinkling, the butterflies taking over. “Would you be my girlfriend?” his eyes anxiously holding yours. The prick of tears making the world blurry, emotions holding your voice hostage, all you could do was shakily nod, holding his hand tighter. What you weren’t expecting was his free hand to cup your cheek, tilting your face up gently, and his soft, warm lips meeting yours in a chaste kiss. Foreheads touching, finding your voice, breathy and small, “I love you too Gavin. Always have, always will.”
You know what would be funny?Someone mistaking toji for the reader’s dad instead of their boyfriend/husband
Oh my god💀💀
Cw: fem reader, bars, drinking, toji getting called your dad pretty much, some lewd language (on tojis part per usual)
Spending Friday evenings in a red rubber booth at Toji's favorite bar became routine soon after you began dating him, the atmosphere of the flaxen lit canteen was still new to you — still shy of the burly men that rode in on Harleys and shared rough hugs with one another before throwing back beers over a loud laugh.
Toji made it obvious you were off limits since the first time he had brought you to the beer-fragranced pup; keeping his arm thrown over your shoulder while the other held onto a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Men who frequented the bar quickly made notice that you were Toji's and welcomed you as a part of their family. Always making an effort at waving at you when the two of you would make your way through the wooden barn doors.
The men respected Toji there, meaning they respected you – always going out their way to compliment you just to see you happy – even the bartender had passed you a few shots when Toji wasn't looking.
You were dressed in one of Toji's hoodies, sleeve covered hands wrapped around the milkshake Toji had ordered for you — you remembered to ask the waitress for two cherries; Toji had a habit of stealing them, proven true by the red stem that hung over the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth.
You smile to yourself bashfully when a group of men walk by and Toji's arm on your shoulder pushes you more into his side.
The light above the booth flickers in a warm amber hue and you squeeze yourself closer into Toji's side, bringing the milkshake to your lips as a man you hadn't seen before walked past your table.
Toji hadn't seen him, eyes locked on the TV as the football game played out across the screen. As the man made his way passed your booth his eyes met yours, sending you wink before taking a seat at the bar.
Immediately youre thrown off, eyebrow lifting in confusion as you sip on your milkshake. Didn't he see Toji? Much less, didn't he realize the two of you were together? With you nearly sitting in Toji's lap and his arm thrown over your shoulders, you thought it was pretty obvious Toji was your boyfriend.
Toji still hadn't seemed to notice the younger man, eyes still glued to the TV screen hung over the bar. You nuzzled yourself closer into his chest, prompting him to squeeze your shoulder softly before running his hand up and down the length of your sleeved arm, taking a swig of his beer with the other.
The night slowly went on – you, not having much interest in the game on TV, had settled for playing on your phone, occasionally pressing a kiss to Toji's cheek as you sipped on your milkshake.
Toji had moved you to sit in his lap sometime during the half-time show, hand wrapped around your waist and squeezing at your thighs appreciatively as you played on your phone.
Once the game was over, the bar began to settle down, more of the regular stool-bar drinkers had migrated to the back of the room to play pool or kick back against the jukebox.
Toji had just finished his beer, grabbing his keys from his pocket when the younger man from earlier made his way over to you booth. Your eyes shifted from each side of the room, hoping he'd change his direction or go back to the bar – realizing he wasn't planning on going anywhere else but your booth, you settled into Toji's lap.
The man made his way to the table, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather vest and lips pulled back in a smile he spoke up, "Hey there," he spoke to you directly.
Toji looked up from his phone to the man, eyeing him up and down before arching a brow at him, "you need somethin', chump?"
The man only laughed, obviously unaware of the status of your relationship, "yeah, I was just wondering if I could get this pretty lil' thing's number; take her out somewhere for dinner sometime." The interaction caused multiple men at the bar to turn and watch – small chuckles and giggles were spread throughout the on watching men, amused at the man's obviousness to the amount of danger he'd just put himself in.
"Are you pullin' my nuts right now?" Toji scoffed, arm tightening around your waist.
"No...?" The man's expression pulled into one of visible confusion at Toji's spit, after a second of silence, the man scoffed again, shoulders falling into a light chuckle before sticking his hand out towards you.
"Name's Jack, what's yours darlin?"
Toji smacked his hand away, "She's not interested," his voice was blunt as he turned his head. You could tell he was trying to hold himself back from making a scene, his body tense beneath yours as you held to him.
"look man, I get she's your daughter an'all, but geez," oh that did it.
your eyes widened immediately, hand covering your mouth in a stifled laugh as Toji's head whipped around. Silver eyes bore into the much younger one's, taking a hesitant step back from your table.
"She's not my kid," the air was so tense you were afraid to move in fear of upsetting your boyfriend. Jack only stared, features written in visible confusion before his eyes widened in realization.
"Oh...o-oh! I'm sorry about that, I had no idea!" He quickly scrambled off with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. The men who'd been watching the interaction take place broke out into a fit of sheepish giggles as the man hurried off, shoulders bouncing with their laughs.
Egged on by the obvious awkwardness of the situation, you broke out into a fit of giggles, burying your face into Toji's chest as he sighed.
"Its not that funny, brat."
Pressing yourself up from his chest, you wiped at the corner of your eyes before nodding your head in agreement, "it kinda was," your voice broke into another laugh.
Toji ran a hand over the length of his jaw, lips parting into a light smile at your laughs before he chuckled lightly through a scoff, "Jesus Christ."
