♡ this post actually made me go feral. ♡
ft. multi. (written w atsumu and nanami in mind idc).
wc: 1.5k // nsfw minors dni! //
contents: afab reader she/her pronouns, mating press, a lot of cum idk, jerking off, pulling out ˙◠˙, nasty but cute, little bit of dirty talk (there always is with me)
―୨୧⋆ ˚ ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ he doesn't come inside. why didn't he come inside? did you do something wrong? does he hate you??? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ ˚⋆୨୧―
you’re not even really sure when or how you got into this exact position, his hips pressed against the backs of your thighs, random pillows shoved under your hips, your hand braced on the wall behind you to keep your head from knocking against it. you don’t notice the stretch or how uncomfortable this position should feel or what you might look like from his point of view, folded nearly in half, knees practically bracketing your own cheeks.
you’re not thinking about how you look because you can’t. you can’t focus on anything else right now. your eyes are transfixed on the perfect view between your legs, on watching his thick cock disappear between your puffy lips. your pretty cunt is devouring him, so fucking tight that he might as well not even be moving, you’re sucking him in so nicely.
and you get to see it all, the mess on the length of his cock as he pulls out, the way he sinks into you inch by inch, the sticky strings- a mixture of both of you- at the base of his cock and the tops of his thighs and the insides of yours. you can’t stop looking at it.
he moves one hand from gripping into the back of your thigh, goes to use the side of his thumb against your swollen clit, but you grab his wrist. you don’t even look up at him as you shake your head, placing his hand back where it was rooted before, because as much as your clit is throbbing and as much as your pussy clenches at the thought of him rubbing rough circles between your sloppy lips, you’d rather suffer without than go even a second with this view obstructed.
you reach up, fingernails softly scraping down the sides of his face. in the heat of the moment, with no remorse at all, he melts into your palm, resting his cheek against the warmth of your hand, placing a kiss into your wrist. “shit, ts so fucking good,” he groans, tilting his head back, chin to the ceiling as your hand falls down to his neck and then rests on his collarbone.
“fuck, pretty, i’m-,” you look up at him, tearing your eyes away from between your legs for just a second to nod repeatedly. he doesn’t have to say it, you can feel it. the throb of his cock against your walls only causes you to tighten around him more. the rhythm of his hips is faltering, thrusts becoming less thoughtfully repetitive, more desperately chasing. you keep nodding as you focus your attention on his cock, the erratic thrusts, swallowing harshly as your brain starts to fill in the coming events.
his hips pressing against the insides of your thighs, him leaning all of his weight on you to get even fucking deeper, matching the pulses of his cock with the streams of come that paint your walls, his balls snug against your ass tightening as he unloads inside of you, and when he finally finishes, the sight of him pulling out after he’s kept your hole plugged for long enough, his length covered in your come and his, heavy cock dragging against the mattress as the last drop lazily drools onto the sheets.
but when you snap back, lips parting in a whimper from the anticipation, your stomach drops, eyebrows furrowing on instinct, a pout forming on your lips and in the back of your throat, but it all happens so quickly. he leans back, pulling out of you, wrapping his fist around his throbbing cock and stroking up and down the length.
a lot of words are coming to mind, but the loudest one is jealous.
your eyes are stuck on his fist, on the way he’s tightening his grip around the head, as he fucks into the tight hole he’s made, as he spills over the side of his hand, tip nestled right above his finger and his thumb as he unloads, streams of come landing on your stomach matched with low groans and short huffs. and there’s so fucking much of it, rope after rope of thick, warm come covering your body, and none of it where you want it the most.
your walls are quivering and your hole is fluttering and you’re so empty and you wish you were his fucking hand. you're envious of his fist and his fingers and his palm. were your tight, gummy walls not good enough for him? was your cunt not warm enough, not snug enough?
he keeps fisting his cock through his high, hips thrusting to meet the motions even after his heavy balls are completely drained onto your stomach, grunting as his flush head gets so sensitive that he has to drop his hand, splaying it on the back of your thigh, digging his fingernails into the fat as his hips jerk forward again in recovery.
“fuck, felt so fuckin- fuck, you’re fucking so perfect,” he breathes, forearms almost shaking as he tries to recompose himself. when he finally does, at least somewhat, collect himself, he notices your expression, not like you were hiding it, not like you even could. he wasn’t expecting this at all, this disappointment sown into every one of your features after how incredible he thought it was. he’s wracking his brain on what he could’ve done wrong. “hey, pretty, what.. what’s wrong?”
“do you hate me?” you ask, lip sucked between your teeth and you can’t even bother to care about the tears well up in your eyes.
“what?” he says, looking down at you, more confused than ever. “what do you mean?” he asks.
“you pulled out,” you say, and he almost thinks you’re fucking with him with how serious you’re acting, but your tone has such earnestness and your expression is unwavering and holy fuck, you’re being so genuine. “you didn’t come inside.”
still, he has to ask, just to be sure, “are you kidding?”
a tear rolls down the side of your face and he reaches down to wipe it away as you shake your head no. “you used your hand instead of me. did i do something wrong?”
if at any point you told him you were joking, he would’ve instantly believed you, but you’re not doing that. no, you’re being completely serious and every time you explain yourself more, he almost gets more confused. this was the first time you had slept together. the two of you hadn’t talked about that before you started, so why would he have-
but you look so distraught, like you’re actually taking it to heart that he didn’t come inside of you and all he wants to do is remedy that. he leans down, presses a kiss to your temple and then your pout. “god, no, i don’t hate you and you did nothing wrong,” he says, tone just as honest as yours. he thinks about explaining, about asking why it’s so important, but he forgoes all of that, will tackle it in a few hours.
instead, he places his fingers against your lips. you kiss them at first and then he pushes them past your lips and you suck them into your mouth. they slide against your tongue and you can taste the drying come that spilled over his fingers. he watches your disappointment start to fade, a small smile on your face as you swallow around his digits. “i’m so sorry,” he says, shaking his head back and forth with the tiniest movements. “i’ll never do that again, okay?”
he trails his hand down from your lips, pulls his palm through the come that made it to your chest. when he gets to your stomach, he picks up his wrist, lets only his two fingers drag through the pool on your stomach, leaving a trail of his come leading directly to your pussy. he pushes his fingers inside as deep as he can and then he uses three fingers on your stomach, scooping up as much as he can and repeating the motion. “is that better?” he asks, and you answer with a throaty whimper and a breathy nod.
he’s slow with his movements, intentional with his stare. he doesn’t even let you look, uses a come-drenched finger on your chin to force your gaze every time you try to catch a glimpse between your legs. “next time, i’ll come so deep you can taste it. leave you pressed like that for hours so it never leaks out, okay?” he promises.
you can feel it. the come that had collected on your skin is smeared down your stomach and onto your pussy, rubbed into your clit, stuffed inside of you as best he can over and over and over and over until every drop is either fingered into your walls or dried onto your skin. every time it threatens to leak out of your hole, he pushes his come back inside.
I'm a major Suguru simp. like I'm so down bad right. like I'd suck his toes and I don't even like feet, I don't fw that yea. im a huge suguru dickrider BUT hear me out
cowboy Toji brainot
I'm talking he picks you up at a bar, puts his hat on you and then fucks you in the back of his pickup truck, in an empty parking lot.
I'm descending into madness. I thought of this while eating mac and cheese that's insane. i need him carnally it's not even funny anymore
it's been a hot minute since i've posted on here. anyways, I am NOT built for the UK. WHY'S THE WEATHER SO SHITTY CAN'T I GO ONE DAY WITHOUT BEING DRENCHED IN RAIN WATER???? HELLLOOOOOOO????
Synopsis: Sometimes humans are not above animals. Sometimes they burn to fulfill the same basic needs and not strive for more in the moment. A full belly, safety, procreation. What happens when all three of them need to be satisfied? Tinged with spice. Under the influence of an unknown substance.
CW: aphrodisiac, dubcon, slight somnophilia, feral and animalistic Yuta, he has cannibalistic thoughts, licking, lovebites, scratching, biting, slight pain, handjob, premature ejaculation, fingering, Reader can feel Yuta’s ring during fingering, slight dacryphilia if you squint, implied multiple rounds, porn with feelings, good old unprotected sex + creampie, both Reader and Yuta are ultra possessive in their own toxic way <33
WC: 3.6k
Credits: my dearest @notveryrussian for proofreading this mess and doing a bit of rework on the tenses <33 the cannibalcore pics are from pinterest
Song rec: needles and pins by deftones and gibson girl by ethel cain both give a nice vibe to the fic as we slowly transition from Yuta's POV to Reader's POV
A/N: Can't believe I'm posting my first one shot here 🥹 After so many unsuccessful attempts to wrap up multichaptered fics, at least, this one messy smut got finished. My first ever finished fic 🥹 And the first to get completed in a relatively short time. Yes, a week is a short time for me. And happy holidays to y’all, this is gonna be the last fic in this year so expect only shitposts from me from now on lmao.
Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
Minors do not interact or else I'm gonna go apeshit, also a seperate warning for heavy dark content as usual. If there's anything mentioned in the tags that you're not comfortable with, this is not your fic.
Many sorcerers envy the title of special grade. Yuta thinks these people deserve a separate Naraka in Hell. They don’t realize the immense responsibility, they can’t fathom the challenges, the danger of the missions. The threat those curses pose. They only care about the power he carries.
During today’s mission, Yuta realized he’s not entirely an unstoppable force. Even someone like him is weak to certain fighting styles, he can’t counter everything with his wide range of copied techniques. This curse’s grade was well deserved. Whenever the katana slashed deep into it’s skin, a strange kind of gas was emitted from the wounds. Though he eventually exorcised the curse, he did breathe in the weird, sweet-smelling substance. The scent was hard to resist, it felt like the perfect mixture of all his favorite smells, inviting and comforting. However, he trusted his body to withstand the temptation, reinforced to near perfection with cursed energy and the usage of reversed cursed technique.
There was no problem until he finished reporting back to the higher ups and was on the way home. Maybe it was just the fatigue, the late summer heat, the humidity of the night but something made him feel weird. Almost sick. A thin veil of sweat glistened on his skin, his cheeks, ears and upper body were flushed. His chest was heaving, a burning, aching sensation tormented him between his legs, throbbing with a synced rhythm to his heartbeat. All his thoughts narrowed down to one single, inherently primal thing. A need. A hunger.
Shame and confusion swelled inside his chest. How can he lose his composure? How can he want it so badly? If he wasn’t so wired for monogamy, he would have fucked anyone who moved. And with every passing minute the feeling was getting worse. Descending slowly to the brink of madness. Hell, he was close to wheezing and growling like a rabid dog. He already had no patience to find the right key to the door. He could break that shit, he definitely could. He had no idea why, but he could stop himself from doing that. Maybe the insane price to get it fixed.
But the comfort of his home isn’t helping him. He can’t calm down, he can’t unwind. On the contrary, everything intensifies the strange urge in him to act territorial. But it’s only natural when he grew up feeling like he didn’t have anything he could call his own, whether it’s a material possession or a person. Every comprehensible thought vanished from his head. Leaving only the instincts. The need to claim. He immediately goes to the bedroom, not even bothering to have a quick shower or a light meal.
He gazes at your sleeping form, unknowing and peaceful. Innocent and vulnerable like a newborn lamb and he’s… he wouldn’t compare himself to a wolf, he’s a more vicious predator than that, all starved and keen on capturing its prey. Your limbs are thrown in every direction on the mattress, a thin, silk blanket barely concealing your body, but you’re hugging a some of it to your chest. Like you’re missing him, finding solace in the way the material is touching you. The windows are wide open, hoping that the night air can cool you down.
Yuta caught himself almost drooling at the sight. He can’t stop himself, he can’t fight the shameless thoughts plaguing him. The need, the want is stronger than what he deems right in the moment. His steps are quiet, that part of the floor that normally creaks is now completely silent. He looms over you, like a sinful, ungodly spirit, your very own kanashibari that’s bound to you. His weight is pressing down on the mattress ever so slightly, caging your form between his arms. He breathes in the smell of your freshly showered skin. A mixture of heady vanilla, milk and honey. He mindlessly licks a stripe up your thigh, wanting to taste you, to bite you, to tear out a big chunk of your flesh with his teeth to satisfy this torturous hunger he feels for you. More than anything he wants to devour you. Completely. Have you all for himself. The thought alone makes his dick so hard it’s outright painful.
He ascends towards your hips, leaving soft yet wet kisses that make you twitch in your sleep. Yuta swears that he’s more sensitive to all stimuli, his senses are working at their maximum capacity. He’s able to feel every morsel, every particle of you. The soft peach fuzz, the bumps, the ridges of your stretch marks, their pearl-like glistening texture flowing on the surface of your skin like a river. The material of your shorts, loose and thin, he can feel the seams on the band of your underwear through the fabric. Where the bones bend, where flesh folds. Your smell. Not just from the shower gel and the laundry detergent but your natural scent, so strong he believes it’s some kind of weird pheromone that’s driving him wild. To the point he almost considers nudging his nose between your legs, just like dogs do when they smell blood there.
Maybe it’s not entirely wrong to claim you this way. He can spare you from this more primal side of him, you won’t get to see it and despise him for it. It’s enough if he deals with the shame alone, self-deprecation is his ultimate talent afterall. But that can wait until after he finished soothing this excruciating itch. Because now the last remnant of his resolve goes out the window.
He pulls up your shirt all the way up to your chest. His shirt to be exact. It makes his heart flutter, a piece of him enveloping you, makes the boundaries between your sense of selves blend and blur. The thought of you using his stuff as your own feels so right, so promising.
He practically glues his face to the expanse of your stomach. The flesh is so soft between his teeth, feels so good to bite on it, so easy to suck on it until the skin turns a deep purple.
And maybe… maybe he can lower his crotch onto your knees. Just a little. Just for a little friction…
You stir, opening your eyes slowly, tiredness and confusion are still heavy on your expression. And then you feel teeth nipping at your stomach, fingers digging into the dips of your hips firmly, some wetness here and there along your leg.
Your first response is fear.
You start to squirm and fuss, kicking your legs up in the air, not even thinking about who’s doing this to you until Yuta grips your shoulders and pushes you back into the sheets, keeping you still by the weight of his own body, shushing you. You can feel his nails penetrating the skin, branding the crescent Moon itself into your flesh.
“It’s me, don’t panic.”
You’d recognize this voice anywhere, but you blinked a few times just to clear your vision. The striking white of his coat is easy to spot, even in the dimly lit darkness of the room.
“Yuta…?”
Your voice is an ode, a blessing. Even when it’s hoarse and faint after waking up. He bends down and kisses your temple, nuzzling into your hairline, breathing in your scent. His body feels oddly warm, almost overly so, radiating through you. Through your spine, to the very center of your being and that’s when you notice that you’re a little bit… hot and bothered. What has he done to you while you were asleep?
“I’m so sorry…” he whispers an apology. But his voice is just… it’s like his mind is not entirely here. Something is hurting him and he’s trying to conceal it. Barely. You can hear his voice is hitched from the deep breath he takes, in a futile affort to calm himself. “Have you been sleeping for long?”
He asks you for the sake of it, there’s no genuine interest behind it. Even if you were sleeping for hours, it wouldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop. He genuinely feels like he’ll die if he can’t get it out of his system. He snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, listening to the rhythm of life coursing through your veins. The thought of puncturing your jugular with his teeth is so irresistible. He must do it… It’ll drive him insane if he won’t.
“N-not really.” your answer is weak, all your strength is used to move your arm freely, trying to locate your phone on the bedside table. The light coming from the screen almost blinds you as you’re checking the time. “I went to bed about… half an hour ago.”
He dips his fingers right into the hollow dips between your ribs, he kneads the skin in a way that has his nails slightly scratching you. And then you realize that you’re almost entirely topless.
He traps your earlobe with his teeth, sucking on the soft tissue.
“Y-Yuta…” your voice is more reprimanding that you want it to be. But your patience is starting to run thin. You want to know what the fuck is wrong with him, he never did anything like this before. Even if he’s horny as hell he would ask for your permission because that’s the way he is.
Instead of giving you an answer he bites your neck. Hard. It hurts, it makes you yelp. Shit, that’s gonna leave a mark. And he growls, just like a wild animal.
You squirm, you jolt, trying to get away from the source of your pain with a prolonged hiss. Only one hand of his is enough to stop you from fussing while the other fondles your chest. Your nipple is caught between his fingers, he twists it slightly. You can’t see it getting red, hard and swollen. His moves are awkward and tactless, but somehow they help with soothing the sharp pain in your neck. Your tensed body eases up a little.
He kicks the inner side of your knee with his own, creating a little space in between them, then forces your legs apart with one smooth movement. As he tries to settle right under your core, you feel him brushing the apex of your thigh.
He’s so painfully hard.
You’re sure he can read the instinctual reactions of your body. The rush of adrenaline, your pulse, how your heart is almost breaking your ribs with every beat. You’re getting more and more aware of your surroundings because you have no idea what will happen to you. He pins your wrists down on the bed. He doesn’t want you to escape.
What has gotten into him? Where’s your shy and gentle man, your sweet little angel? The one who needs so much guidance, who gets so awkward about his lack of experience compared to you. The one you need to encourage to talk about what he likes since you won’t judge him for it. Well, angels shouldn’t be benevolent and sweet, right? They’re the soldiers of god after all. And the depth of his psyche is still very much a mystery to you…
“I don’t want to hurt you… I just need you.”
He has no control over his own thoughts, everything on his mind gets blabbered out. Not just that he needs you, but that he wants to fuck you (he rarely uses that word so you’re even more baffled), that he wants to eat you up, bite for bite, digest you so nobody else can have you.
It sounds devoted yet utterly terrifying.
“You’re-“
He’s scary. Well, you knew this prior to crawling into his life. What people thought about him, one rumor more unhinged than the other and you have no idea how much truth there was to them. Everyone has some sort of admiration, respect for him or repulsion of him. You just tend to forget sometimes, how malicious his cursed energy feels, how his eyes never reflect the light, looking outright dead. But it’s all so contradictory to his personality… you know that you’re dear to him, he’s willing to risk everything for his friends, he’s so starved for connection, to carve himself a place within people’s hearts. You blamed the whole phenomenon on Rika. And you took pride in yourself, for taming a monster.
“I feel so…” he suspires, trying his best to contain himself. “… weird.”
And he’s a kind monster indeed, even now, controlling his impulses as he humps your thigh like a feral dog.
“I don’t know if I’m able to hold back, so I need to know….”
His voice is desperate, almost a plea. He’s afraid of himself too. With the last bit of his sanity, he wants to make sure that it’s alright for you, whatever he has in store for you.
You don’t protest.
His lips crash into yours in a violent, hungry kiss. Your teeth clang together, he shoves his entire tongue in your mouth. He grabs the hem of your shorts, peeling off anything that covers you below the waist. You hear the fabric tear. It’s the same with his own clothes too, in a few blinks of your eyes he’s already stark naked.
He takes your hand, pulls it towards him, you can feel him in your palm. So hot, hard and swollen to the touch. He closes your fingers around him and his hips start moving back and forth, fucking himself into your grip. You smear the precum along his length with your fingertips, squeezing lightly when you feel the base. It has him moaning, breathily, more vocal than he usually is. He’s so sensitive, his pace quickens and his voice is thinner, almost like a whimper.
And he groans. Unexpectedly. It bursts deep from his throat. You feel his cum pooling in your palm. Though you may be surprised, you don’t make a big deal about it. You search for tissues on the bedside table to clean your hand like nothing happened.
“Feelin’ okay?”
Your voice is calming, tender, it warms his heart but the mere sight of his cum on your hand makes the blood rush to his dick again.
You sit up to caress his face. You open your mouth to question him, but he won’t let you start your aftercare routine.
“It’s… not enough.”
He grabs your thigh, hooking your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to your naked core. Your back falls onto the mattress again.
“I’ll take care of you.”
It’s a promise, you’re sure of it.
His fingertips sink into your folds, relief ripples through him when he finds them already wet. He goes all out on you, his thumb circles your clit and two fingers dip in at your entrance, waiting to loosen you up so they can be pushed inside. His nails gently caress your inner thigh, it’s a tickling sensation, goosebumps dot your skin, a sigh dies on your lips. Treating it as a sign, his fingers start stretching your walls. They curl and curl inside you to the point of the cold band of his ring touching your folds, your essence soiling the stainless metal. The symbol of the haunting spirit of his first love. Childish love that it is, unserious, all just a game. The promises… the word forever holds no weight. Or maybe it does but they have no idea how hard it is to maintain those vows.
Can you ever compare to Rika in his eyes? Have the same effect over him? You don’t dare to talk about it just yet. No, the nature of your relationship is not the same. Childhood love is not like adult love, you just want some reassurance. You want to feel important.
And your reassurance is soaking that wretched finger with your juices. Make that wretched ring yours. He spreads his fingers inside you, scissoring you apart, eagerly working to prepare you. You’re holding onto the sheets and the pillows desperately, your body feels so volatile you might as well float away.
When he pulls out you feel hollow, incomplete. But he won’t keep you waiting long. The head of his cock feels like salvation. Scorching hot and wet with the mixed arousal. And he completes you with one smooth thrust. You’re whole, fulfilled, a merged existence worth suffering over. He’s throbbing deep within your walls, pulsating through your nerves. You can’t tell if the noise coming out of him is a moan, a whine, or a growl, you only know that it’s bordering on bestial. Filled with need, an ache, coupled with something beyond your comprehension.
He drills into you, there’s so much strength and resilience in him, it almost makes you scared. But something else also swells inside your chest. An unknown kind of excitement, a thrill, it makes you feverish, wired. The dissonance between his absolutely feral state and the fact that he’d never hurt you. Or maybe he would, in a way that you’d like it. Nobody could bite through your throat with such force that your windpipe breaks, only him, him and no one else.
He holds you at the back of your pelvic bone, lifts you up in an utterly perfect angle. You mewl him that it feels so good, so perfect, so raw. You love this feeling so much. You get completely lost and immersed in it.
“…it?”
His voice is faint yet his broken self-worth shines through it. Poor soul… You didn’t pay attention to his most important desire. He’s a parasite living off of your kind words, but nothing can make him as blissful as knowing you love him, despite everything he despises about himself. And you’ll feed him. Prove it to him that he matters more than the things he does to you.
“Oh Yuta, my sweet…” the rest of the sentence gets stuck in your throat as you open your arms and he crashes into your embrace like a lost, lonely puppy. You hug him tightly, brushing through his locks with a free hand. The sweat makes the strands stick together. “Of course I love you, don’t be silly.”
He might as well have been a puppy in his previous life. And now your words eased his guilt about his temporary condition. He gained your forgiveness.
What he does next is much more instinctual. He folds you in half, where your knees bend, is pressed right against his traps, your heels graze the middle of his back. Now his thrusts have weight, uncovering spots that even you had no idea that existed inside of you. Tears of joy prickle in your eyes, calling upon whatever deity’s name you can think of, off the top of your head. You can swear his pace increases at the sight. It’s so intense a broken cry erupts from your throat.
He thrusts right into a sweet spot, which has you melting and trembling. Please is the only word your lips can form. At this point, you couldn’t care less about the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together or the squelching noises that make the whole act sloppy, shameless and primal, you only want to reach your peak, and you’re not far from it as you’re clenching around him with a rhythm that you have no control over.
It crashes, it ruptures, sudden, sharp and hot like an electric spark. A scream empties your lungs, but Yuta muffles it with sealing his mouth onto yours. You feel yourself getting filled as you’re convulsing around his length.
After he fucks you through your orgasm you feel yourself shaking, your whole body is limp, numb, drifting slowly to sleep. You’re both soaked in sweat, your bodies stick together but there’s a need to bond further in each other’s embrace. You plant a kiss between his locks, praising him, telling him you love him. Satisfaction clouds your mind, like a soft, pillowy pink mist.
However, his cock is still not soft.
“I have no idea what has gotten into you.” you tell him, marveling, as you’re still catching on your breath. “I like it though, but you owe me an explanation.”
He handles you gently, like you’re some precious thing, made from glass, fragile. Your body is like a ragdoll’s, he has you lying on your stomach, lazily, flatly, you might as well fuse together with the mattress. Calloused fingers are drawing nonfigurative shapes on your shoulder blades.
“I’ll tell you right after we finish.”
Your blood runs cold for a moment.
“Again? Yuta, for the love of god I’m exhausted.” you whine.
He apologetically kisses your spine.
“Just this one, okay? Please? I’ll do all the work, I’ll make it quick. You only need to relax, you can sleep even.”
You want to tell him that sounds a little bit creepy, but you don’t have the strength to talk. He kisses the two shallow dimples right above your tailbone. His gaze lingers on your folds, admiring how red and swollen you are.
“If you manage to make me cum again, you deserve a fucking award.” you comment, face nuzzled into the pillow, your voice is obviously snarky.
You can feel teeth sinking into the flesh of your asscheek. The mark that is burning on your neck found it’s pair. He presses down your overly sensitive clit with his thumb, balancing the pain out with pleasure. But it gets overstimulated so easily, you feel the need to bite the pillow.
You brace yourself with a deep breath through your nose. You’re going to pay him back next time, you promise yourself that you’ll make a begging, crying mess out of him, and the thought makes you chuckle.
synopsis. Geto Suguru never thought that the smell of mentholated lychee vapes would get his cock hard and throbbing that is until the soft chime of his vape shop doors opened. part 2 here.
tags. geto as a vape shop owner, fem!reader, age gap (suguru is 28, reader is 21), mutual pinning, pervert!suguru, substance abuse, heavy mentions of smoking, vapes, and nicotine, explicit content. word count: 1.8k
note. not proofread, for the life of mine I cannot edit right now. part 2 will be posted soon. credits to: cafekitsune for the mdni banner
You were going crazy.
It has been a full week since you promised to yourself to quit vaping. You were getting out of your mind, full bags of lollipops were sprawled across the table as you stared at them in hopes of fighting back your nicotine withdrawals.
Fuck my life.
The events of your life were not helping either, your grades getting below the average, the amount of stress the last year of college was slowly getting to you just as you decided to quit, and more importantly the fucking rent was due and you were not paid yet from your part-time job.
Your hands desperately inches to a cola flavored lollipop, and popping them into your gloss covered lips. Licking the sweetness and sucking it in hopes that it will satisfy you.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
You’ve reached your breaking point. The dull thud of the lollipop hitting the end of the bin as it was rendered useless as you threw it out. Fast steps echoed in the empty apartment as you rushed to your room, feeling the soft fabric of the carpet as you knelt down and pulled at the small hidden box under your wardrobe.
Your eyes twinkle as you finally spot the magenta colored pod, bringing it to your mouth as you take your first hit of the week, breaking the one-week long streak. Mentholated sweetness dragging down your throat as you inhaled, you closed your eyes and fell back into the floor.
“That’s the shit.”
You muttered to yourself, exhaling the white smoke out of your lungs and mouth. The room slowly being filled by fumes and lychee scented nicotine. You took another hit, then another, and another.
Until you notice the bitterness slowly creeping into your taste buds. With your head mildly spinning and your body growing heavier under unseen weight being pushed to you, you exhale.
“This is not the shit.”
Out of all the fucking time it could’ve burned. It chose this day. You threw the pod to the side, clutching your head as the world began to spin rapidly and your body heavier than a thousand rocks. You had to make a trip to the vape shop. Unfortunately for you, the shop which was just a few blocks down your street closed almost a week ago.
Which was, to be honest, the reason you swore to quit. But you had no extra money left to buy a new one.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
Suguru exhaled, smirking to himself as he placed multiple new boxes on the glass cabinet. Restocking the supplies of nicotine to his shop. Thick smoke flying freely in the air as he took a hit of his own, intoxicating sweetness from the multiple nicotine products seeping outside the box of freshly purchased vapes.
Eccentric and detailed tattoos decorated his hands up to his forearm, his hair neatly pulled back into a bun, and a few strands spilling out in front. He continued to refill his store, pulling boxes and boxes of vapes out of one large container, muscles flexing and veins popping through his tank top.
His eyes peeked up as he bent down, the soft chime of the door grabbing his attention. A small gentle smile creeping its way up to his lips.
“How may I help you, sweetheart?”
Suguru hums, his words like satin, smooth and gentle as he stands up straight. Meeting the eyes of the new customer, which was you. He tilts his head ever so slightly taking in your appearance, memorizing your eyes and the way your eyes searched and looked around his shop. His observant eyes grazed curiously at you.
“You looking for somethin’?”
He added. Walking towards the counter where it separates you and him, leaning over the glass. The black piercing in his ear shining under the light. There was one thing that rang through your mind, he was fucking gorgeous.
Maybe the trip half way through town was worth it.
“Just a new disposable, please.”
Suguru nods, and smiles softly at you. Your breath catches up in your throat at how seemingly gentle this man was despite the littered tattoos on his arms. God, he was like a breath of fresh air.
“Any flavors in mind?”
Your eyes wander around the glass containers, black boxes with disposables as its cover. Blue, red, pink, yellow colored ones, almost every flavor you could imagine. You smile back at him, your eyes boring into his. His eyes were like an endless deep dark chasm.
“You have recommendations? Don’t say lychee ice or watermelon, please.”
He raised an eyebrow at you as he walked across the counter, pulling out a laminated card with all the flavors he had. Amusement carved into his pretty features, a smile crawled up to his lips. His curiosity about you intensified.
“You seem like the type to pick blush ice over and over again.” He joked, a smirk playing in his lips as he gave you the card. “You smell like lychee.” He added, shooting you a playful smile.
Your fingers brushed lightly against his as you accepted it. Suguru could not keep his eyes off of you. You gave him a smile, heart beginning to pound in your chest.
“Do I?” Suguru laughs at your reply, deep and raspy. He put one of his hands in his pockets, standing taller than you as he straightened up.
“Just a little bit, sweetheart.” He mused, averting his eyes to the card.
“D’you like fruity ones or pastry?” His fingers reached over the card, silver rings adorned his slender fingers as they slid from left to right.
“Fruity ones.” He nods, fingers pausing against the column of fruit flavored ones.
“Try mixed berries.” Pointing at a purple pod fading into white at the top. “Or grape soda.” he continues, his fingers dragging further down into the card, stopping at a purple pod darkening up at the bottom. His fingers merely a few inches away from your tits.
His fingers were distractingly pretty, your eyes following his every move.
“What do you think?” He asks, his fingers dropping to the counter, he leans back down. His dark hair astray from the clean bun brushing against the side of his temple.
Your eyes settled on the grape soda, a new flavor you haven’t tried.
Lowering the card on the counter, it landed with a soft thwack of the glass. Your mind swirled with thoughts. Was it really smart to spend your last money on some nic? Could it really be that bad to wait for a few days? You sighed. It was extremely careless to spend the last bucks for a disposable when you can get the roof on your head ripped away.
“Nevermind.” You gave him a polite smile, “I’ll have to wait a few days to get a new one.”
Suguru’s head tilted, he was all too familiar with situations like this. Normally, he would smile, nod and let the customer be on their way but he couldn’t do that. Not when he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was inappropriate for him to fantasize about a customer, even worse, with someone he didn’t even know the name of.
But, God, you were fucking hot.
He cannot walk let you walk out of the store, no. He needed to make sure you would walk back in his shop.
“Say what, sweetheart. I’ll give you this one and you can just give me your old one. Safer for the environment than to just throw it out.”
Suguru was spitting things out now, despite the screams in his thoughts. He could potentially lose money, not that he didn’t have plenty. You could run away with it and never show your face again but he was willing to take a gamble. He was positive he was beginning to look like a creep in your eyes.
You were not. It was like the heavens gave you a fucking blessing as he offered it.
“Are you serious?” Your voice is laced with excitement and disbelief.
He nods, his hands opening the glass counter and pulling out a black box. It was the disposable he suggested. He had noticed the way your eyes landed on the grape soda a while ago, his eyes never missing a detail.
“As serious as you want me to.” He played it cool, taking a step back at his advances. The gentle smile showed up again in his features.
“I can’t possibly, what if I don’t show up again?”
Suguru chuckles, pushing the box to you, stopping a few inches to your hands.
“Then too bad, I can’t see your pretty face ‘round here no more.”
You grabbed the box, it had a little weight to it. Your eyes shifted from his then back to the box. Guilt settling in your stomach as the man offered it. Suguru leans it closer, you could smell the menthol coming out of his breaths, a pleasant scent you could get intoxicated in.
“Trust me, baby. You can take it.” He whispered.
His hands slithering to hold yours. Eyes piercing into you as his eyes dropped to your lips.
You could feel the tension, the building heat in your core as he inches closer. The thick nicotine in the air makes you feel dizzy as you look into his eyes, he lets out a short deep chuckle as if he was taunting you. His eyes snap back into yours hazed with lust.
“T-thanks.”
Your voice shakes, sucking in a deep inhale. You had to fight every urge in your body to not smash your lips against his and sink to your knees to give the man a blowjob as thanks, lips closing around on his cock as your hands pump the parts you can’t fit in your tiny mouth.
He backs up, the smile still on his lips. He cleared his throat and took a hit of his vape.
If he would dare, he would kiss your lips right now and wrap a hand around your pretty throat decorating it with his own marks. Fuck you right there in the shop where the tinted windows would do a decent job of hiding the both of you, bend you over the counter while his hands would take a hold of your hips and keep you in your place.
Maybe he would slip a finger or two in your mouth as he whispers filthy words into your ears.
But not today.
“No problem, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet.
He then turns around quickly, hiding the print of his dick through his pants as it gets tighter and tighter the more you stand near his presence. He clears his throat, his face doing a good job of covering the dirty thoughts he had of you.
“See you ‘round.”
With a shuddering breath, you step out of the shop. The newly purchased, or should you say given? Vape in your hand. You were certainly going back in there.
Maybe get in cashless, and offer your pussy that was making a mess in your underwear for a smoke.
he's so pretty oh my poor aching heart (and pussy) what if I just died oml I desperately need to run my hands through his hair and feel his skin against mine. imma smooch him like straight up SMACK my lips on his face with such violence, a mark shows up on his cheek and stays for a week.
hi hi hi hi hi <3 i finally managed to find free time in my very very hectic life to post ╰(● ⋏ ●)╯
i swear being a psych student is MAAAAAAAAD tiring. im talking ive got like FOUR (4) assignments that I need to submit by NEXT WEEK OMG!!!!! I CANT DO THIS, im boutta be bald by the end of this year. God himself wont be able to save me from this one (╥_╥)
ANYWAYS!!!! like i promised i would <3333 here are the links to my spotify playlists SASKJLKDJSJDLSHFKAHSKJD curated to all the scenarios I made up in my puny little brain. instead of learning how to provide therapy, I should be the one SEEKING therapy!!
Geto Suguru playlists (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)
staying behind at jujutsu tech w/o Geto Suguru
going through the crush stage w/ Geto Suguru
high school sweethearts w/ Geto Suguru
running off to live by the seaside w/ Geto Suguru
remaining in a toxic relationship w/ Geto Suguru (a little tw!! mentions of psychological and mental abuse. may imply a little bit of physical abuse too if ure uncomfy with it)
Gojo Satoru playlists (ง ื▿ ื)ว
sickeningly sweet crackhead love w/ Gojo Satoru
a slice of domesticity w/ Gojo Satoru
AU! blossoming love in an arranged marriage w/ Gojo Satoru
Nanami Kento playlists ( ˘ ³˘)♥
living on the coastlines of Kuantan w/ Nanami Kento (i literally made this one to cope with the loss of my beloved omg I was bawling rolling on the floor with tears and snot running down my face pulling on my hair. also most of the songs in this playlists are malay bc it felt more fitting. also bc I understand malay and I myself am from Malaysia <;3)
BUT yeah that's all the playlists ive made so far (°◡°♡) I hope u guys enjoy them (╬ﾟ◥益◤ﾟ) if u dont, i rlly don't mind bc like i said in my previous posts, i made them on a whim :))) OK IM GONNA GO NOW BC THOSE ASSIGNMENTS ARE NOT GONNA DO THEMSELVES!!! till time allows me on this godforsaken website again
byebyeeee “ψ (｀∇´) ψ
================================================
tags: @namazunomegami @sugurusslvt [ouuuu i hope this lists expands bc id love to have more moots can u tell im a hermit]
hi hi hi hi hi <3 i finally managed to find free time in my very very hectic life to post ╰(● ⋏ ●)╯
i swear being a psych student is MAAAAAAAAD tiring. im talking ive got like FOUR (4) assignments that I need to submit by NEXT WEEK OMG!!!!! I CANT DO THIS, im boutta be bald by the end of this year. God himself wont be able to save me from this one (╥_╥)
ANYWAYS!!!! like i promised i would <3333 here are the links to my spotify playlists SASKJLKDJSJDLSHFKAHSKJD curated to all the scenarios I made up in my puny little brain. instead of learning how to provide therapy, I should be the one SEEKING therapy!!
Geto Suguru playlists (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)
staying behind at jujutsu tech w/o Geto Suguru
going through the crush stage w/ Geto Suguru
high school sweethearts w/ Geto Suguru
running off to live by the seaside w/ Geto Suguru
remaining in a toxic relationship w/ Geto Suguru (a little tw!! mentions of psychological and mental abuse. may imply a little bit of physical abuse too if ure uncomfy with it)
Gojo Satoru playlists (ง ื▿ ื)ว
sickeningly sweet crackhead love w/ Gojo Satoru
a slice of domesticity w/ Gojo Satoru
AU! blossoming love in an arranged marriage w/ Gojo Satoru
Nanami Kento playlists ( ˘ ³˘)♥
living on the coastlines of Kuantan w/ Nanami Kento (i literally made this one to cope with the loss of my beloved omg I was bawling rolling on the floor with tears and snot running down my face pulling on my hair. also most of the songs in this playlists are malay bc it felt more fitting. also bc I understand malay and I myself am from Malaysia <;3)
BUT yeah that's all the playlists ive made so far (°◡°♡) I hope u guys enjoy them (╬ﾟ◥益◤ﾟ) if u dont, i rlly don't mind bc like i said in my previous posts, i made them on a whim :))) OK IM GONNA GO NOW BC THOSE ASSIGNMENTS ARE NOT GONNA DO THEMSELVES!!! till time allows me on this godforsaken website again
byebyeeee “ψ (｀∇´) ψ
================================================
tags: @namazunomegami @sugurusslvt [ouuuu i hope this lists expands bc id love to have more moots can u tell im a hermit]
looking for moots!!! + i've got playlists i make on a whim (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)
i'm convinced that i'm actually mentally insane because why did i make 5 playlists about Geto Suguru and literally just made one about Gojo... (///￣ ￣///)
like I swear I even have scenarios playing in my head when i'm like cherry-picking these songs like everything has to be absolute perfection. they have to match the timeline of my scenarios where they meet, then fight, break up, get back together again, cry, eat, sleep etc etc like girl........ get therapy
but then again, i'd happily post the spotify links if anyone ever asks because i can't write for the life of me (well i mean i probably can but my lack of vocabulary sucks ass) that is if anyone even sees this. i'm sure someone will or not idk maybe i'm like delusional but i do want moots :3 maybe i'll make a separate post abt myself and what i like etc once i figure out this whole tumblr thing bc I'm still so new to all this ( . .)φ__
suguru is the stranger admiring you on the train, when he's miserably travelling alone to missions.
note : found this in the drafts thought it was kinda koot 🫡
content : fluff n light angst, not proofread
the train shudders.
geto suguru pays you a common stranger's glance. and when he gets back home, he paints his own nails black. because he thought hey, that stranger on the train looked pretty hot with those black nails.
the next time he sees you on the train, he pays you another common stranger's glance. he notices your straight posture despite there being no need to look so put-together when you're just on a train with unimportant people. and then he straightens his posture, hoping you'll notice it, and notice his black nails, too.
he keeps taking after you, not saying a word. he's just completely curious about this stranger on the train who he sees. would you hug him if you knew that he's coming home after a day of going around exorcising curses and forcibly swallowing down people's negative emotions? would you be sympathetic? would you sit down and talk to him?
he wants you to notice him, he's got a boyish crush on you. he just thinks you're cool. you're pretty. you know, shallow crush stuff.
and he really, really badly wants you to notice him. he's dying for one glance.
so you can imagine he has a visceral response to your random hello. he stutters, he freezes up, forgets his language for a moment.
"hi..." he seems like a misanthropic student to you. and he is. but not towards you; no, he definitely wants to talk to you. wants to socialize. wants to get to know you.
if anything's keeping his mind from feeling crowded with dark thoughts, it's you. and it's so funny. you've had such an impact on him and yet you're only introducing yourselves to each other now.
romaincrisis
izzy806
dailybridgerton
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
tangentwithtanner
kaledo-art
gummygunk
