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you really should take the matter over fictional content more seriously because one day you could actually really someone out there over what you think is just harmless fun
you might laugh right now but you won't find it so funny when you're dropped by a former friend over it :/
As I've once said to another anon, I rather not be pulled into this nonsense over fucking fiction. It's nothing but a very stupid shitstorm that should have NEVER gotten this bad in the first place.
And because I know there will be folks out there who will get on my case for this, no, just kindly fuck off and leave me alone. I refuse to be dragged into a shitstorm all because some folks out there want to throw a hissy fit at others enjoying ANY sort of fictional content that THEY find uncomfortable.
I said these before in another post and I shall say it again because I feel it's needed. Putting this under readmore tho cuz post getting rather long here.
It's okay to feel upset over certain fictional content & interests, but that does not mean it's okay for you to act as if those who enjoy said stuff are horrible people. You're allowed to feel however you want over certain content, but for fuck's sake please just use that block/mute/whatever and move on with your fucking life. No need to announce to the world how much this or that makes you uncomfortable okay.
It's YOUR job to curate your own internet experience, NOT US STRANGERS. Most of us will do our best to tag certain shit to make it easier for others to avoid content but the system here isn't perfect so stuff is bound to slip by regardless. But even then, it's still YOUR job to curate your own internet experience. Again, a lot of us fellow online folks will do our best to tag certain content to make this a little easier for you, but that doesn't mean it's our job to cater to you.
News flash people, everyone has trauma and everyone deals with it differently. You're allowed to feel however you want over with anything regarding your trauma but that does not give you the fucking right to act as if only YOUR experiences and how YOU deal with YOUR trauma is "right". What's that? Do you find how this or that person deals with their trauma to be really weird? Alright. That's okay. You think so-and-so doesn't count and that gives you the right to treat them however you want for it? Yeah no. You can fuck off with that mindset there.
Everyone is bound to unwittingly do something that will make you and others uncomfortable but that doesn't make them some horrible person. So please take a chill pill and not jump the gun so soon on others solely because of that. Not to say that you're not allowed to feel however you do but for fuck's sake 1) a lot of us are socially awkward folks who struggle with recognizing social cues and such and 2) it's not easy to read tone and such over text. :|
Alrighty. This is getting long enough as it is and uhm starting to get a bit tough to not go off completely here so just gonna stop.
But yeah. If you have a problem with any of this then go right ahead and hit that unfollow button there. You will not be missed. :)
#answered asks#anonymous#// long post#// slight rant#Sorry that this comes off as really nasty but I'm quite frankly just with this nonsense over fiction#I didn't come on here to be pulled into bullshit all because some folks have a problem over shit that makes them uncomfy#Not to say that folks aren't valid for how they feel over shit but for fuck's sake a lot of them seem to think that gives them -#- the right to treat others however they want simply because of how THEY feel over shit#Also just saying but Is2g I will get so annoyed if folks give me shit over this#Also btw anon sorry for what happened to you there. I meant to mention it in the post but it slipped my mind#All I will say here is that what happened to you there is wrong#The fact that former friend of yours was willing to drop you over fictional content however shows they're not a real friend#Everyone has differing opinions and tastes in such. A real friend would be more willing to respect that#... well okay not to say folks aren't allow to find certain things uncomfortable enough that they just CAN'T tolerate it#but even so to simply drop a friendship over some fictional interest of yours? Uhm yeah no.
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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
PART 2
Bangchan x reader. (s)
Chapters: Part I / Part III
Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)
Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x
"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.
"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.
"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.
"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.
You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"
Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.
The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."
Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.
"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.
"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.
For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.
"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.
It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and
"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.
"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.
"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.
"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"
You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.
"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.
He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.
With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.
"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.
It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.
"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"
Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"
Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.
"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.
You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.
"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.
You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."
Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.
"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.
You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.
He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.
For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.
Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.
"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.
Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.
Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.
"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.
"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.
When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.
"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.
"I'm waiting for you."
"Why?"
"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.
"We?"
"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."
"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.
What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.
"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.
"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.
"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.
And then, there's something called human error.
-
At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.
Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.
He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"
The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.
Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"
"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.
"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."
"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.
Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"
"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.
"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.
The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.
"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.
"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"
"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.
"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.
"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.
The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?
"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.
"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"
"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."
"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.
You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.
The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.
"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.
"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.
Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.
"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.
"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"
You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."
Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.
He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.
"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.
Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."
"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.
"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.
Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.
By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.
"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.
"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.
"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.
"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.
"No!" You flatly reject the idea.
"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.
You steadfastly shake your head.
"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.
"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.
"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.
"Doubtful. Very doubtful."
"Why?"
"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"
Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.
"— in hell."
That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.
"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."
"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.
This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.
Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.
"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.
You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.
"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."
"No!" You shout.
"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.
You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.
"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.
-
From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.
Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.
Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.
"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.
"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.
"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"
"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.
"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.
"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.
You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.
As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.
With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"
Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."
Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.
"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.
Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"
Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.
It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.
"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.
"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.
The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.
"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.
"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.
"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.
"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.
The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.
"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.
"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.
"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.
"Yeah," you answer.
"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.
"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.
"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.
You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."
Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.
"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.
You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"
"Not a chance," he shortly answers.
Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.
With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.
Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.
-
It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—
"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.
There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.
Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.
Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?
Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.
What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.
Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.
Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.
As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.
"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.
If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.
"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.
In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.
To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.
However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.
When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."
He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."
Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.
"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.
A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."
So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.
Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.
He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.
He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.
As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.
Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?
He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.
"Chris..."
The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.
An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.
"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.
Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.
He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.
His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”
There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.
He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.
With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.
"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.
You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."
"Condom?"
"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."
A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.
Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.
"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."
Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.
"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.
The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.
Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.
The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.
There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.
With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.
"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.
"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.
Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.
The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.
Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—
"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."
Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.
It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.
-
When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—
It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.
The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.
"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.
Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."
You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.
"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.
"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.
It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet
"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.
"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.
"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.
There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"
There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.
"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"
"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."
"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.
You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.
"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.
He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"
Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.
"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.
Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.
-
It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.
Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.
Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.
With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.
After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.
"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.
Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.
"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"
In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."
"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."
Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.
"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.
You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.
"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.
You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.
"I have a date," you tell him.
Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.
"A–a date?" He stammers.
"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"
His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.
"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.
"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.
"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"
"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"
He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"
You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"
For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.
"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.
You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"
He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.
"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."
You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.
"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.
That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.
"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.
You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.
"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.
"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."
That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.
"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.
He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.
"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.
"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.
"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.
You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."
In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.
"Don't go on that date," he demands.
"Why?"
"Because I want you here."
"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.
He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."
"What question?"
"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.
You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"
"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"
It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.
You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.
To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."
-
It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.
It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?
There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.
But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?
It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.
Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.
"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.
While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.
It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.
You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."
See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.
"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.
You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"
It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.
"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.
"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."
"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."
Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.
"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.
"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.
His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.
"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.
"Partly."
"How so?"
"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.
Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.
Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.
"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.
The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.
"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"
A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.
Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.
"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.
When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.
Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.
The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.
"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.
He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.
"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."
The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.
He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.
Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.
Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."
There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.
Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.
He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”
He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.
"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.
"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"
The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.
"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.
"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"
You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."
He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.
"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.
"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.
"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.
This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.
"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.
It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.
"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."
On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.
With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."
-
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Just a pill | 18+
Warnings/Tags: NSFW, explicit sexual content, afab/female reader, alternate universe, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, squirting, degradation kink, kuroo is mean in bed but a sweetheart otherwise, praise kink, pet names, dumbification, overstimulation, dacryphilia, cock warming, drugged sex (but it's consensual), SET IN THE FUTURE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18
Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
“Look at you,” His voice is rough, low, and sinful as he looks up at you with a small smirk, eyes hooded, while he has you spread out on his lap��
His muscled thighs provide the perfect amount of comfort for you as you barely manage to keep yourself up—desperately clinging onto his shoulder as your lower lip wobbles.
Kuroo pouts, almost mocking you with his eyebrows softening, and lets his back lean into the bed frame a little more as he continues to fuck two of his thick fingers inside your cunt. “You must feel so numb by now hm, baby?”
You shudder, feeling hazy and warm and achy, but you somehow still manage to nod your head as you suck in a deep breath.
The pills you took were really strong.
Kuroo was initially hesitant about it—because he knew just how much of a light-weight you are when it comes to getting intoxicated.
But then you gave him that look—with eyes so big and pleading—telling him that you trust him to take care of you and—
And how was he supposed to say no to that?
Of course, he’ll take care of you but still—
These pills aren’t exactly weak.
Which is made very clear right this instant as your eyes turn droopy, and you feel your entire body turn numb but alight with fire at the same time.
But you don’t regret it one bit.
No.
Not when it means Kuroo gets to treat you like this—like some doll for him to tease and fuck however he wants.
To whisper sweet, dirty words and handle you in ways that have you turning into a puddle.
The kiss he plants on your cheek is gentle and sweet, and your fingers curl into the skin of his shoulders as he slips his two fingers out to run them through your sopping folds to rub your clit. “Were you keeping count for me?”
You swallow thickly, feeling your mouth dry. “T-two.”
He’s made you orgasm twice already.
And he hasn’t even fucked you yet.
You hear him hum, then you feel the warmth of his mouth trail down your neck until his lips find that sensitive spot that makes your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open with a soft sigh.
Then you feel him murmur against your skin, “You think you can give me another like this?”
And you don’t think you can orgasm anymore.
Not in this state. You feel so limp and jelly—simply sitting and taking whatever Kuroo gives you—
It’d honestly be a miracle if you cum again.
You hum, nodding anyway as best as you can even if your head feels too heavy.
Kuroo’s smile is wide and proud and—
“Oh god—” You whine when you feel Kuroo pinch your clit, feeling a sting of heat shoot up your stomach and chest.
“Shh,” He soothes you, sliding his fore and middle finger back down your folds, your fluids creaming his fingers before he pushes them back into your fluttering cunt and curls them. “I got you, darling, don’t worry.”
And you never do when it comes to him.
He knows what he’s doing—enough for you to completely let your mind go and close your eyes as everything around you disappears and all you feel is liquid pleasure filling your blood.
You circle your arms around his neck as support, your chin resting on his shoulder, and Kuroo kisses the side of your head as he rolls his wrists, his fingers curling and massaging your walls to build that tight tension in your belly again.
“You take it so well for me,” Kuroo lets out a low groan, grinding his palm against your clit as he finger fucks you—while his fingers get all sticky with your fluids, and his other hand holds onto your hips. “Such a pretty little doll for me to use, hm?”
You can only nod at this point as your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs with a breathy moan—your thoughts move like sludge and before you can comprehend what’s happening—
Your orgasm goes through you with a small snap—causing your lower spine to draw tight and your muscles to tense as you moan, clinging onto Kuroo and riding out your third orgasm for the night.
But he’s not done with you.
“Good baby,” Kuroo drawls, voice throaty, and he pulls out his fingers that are slicked with your fluids, and he uses that same hand to smack your ass—making you jolt. “Look at me.”
And you do.
Slowly.
You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, and Kuroo’s pupils dilate when he notices just how mentally gone you are.
Then he smiles, all gentle, and tilts his head to the side. “You tired?”
Yes.
God—you just want to rest now.
The pills have made you tired, yes, but it’s the orgasm after orgasm that’s taken a bigger toll on you.
You whine as you nod, but Kuroo only huffs out a low chuckle in response and squeezes your ass. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”
He’s quick but gentle when he guides you to lay on your back in the middle of the bed, and he takes the rest of his sweatpants off—letting his cock out to give it a few strokes.
And the thing is—you can tell him to stop.
Just one word and he’ll drop the whole thing—take you for a bath and call it a night with sweet kisses and gentle massages as he cuddles you to sleep.
But as tired as you are—
You don’t want this to stop.
Kuroo’s body envelops you entirely when he hovers over you, one hand beside your head—his body heat so close against yours—while his other hand guides the fat head of his cock through your soaked slit.
“Your pussy is so messy,” Kuroo’s groan is ragged, and he breathes out heavily as he rocks his hips slightly to have your pussy lips wrap around his girth—coating his length with juices as the tip of his dick kisses your clit. “So sloppy and wet, baby.”
You can’t speak.
You’re too busy gasping and mumbling something between a moan and a whine as you scramble to hold onto his muscled back—your legs spreading and wrapping around his waist to bring him closer.
“So needy, hm?” Kuroo teases as leans down to give your lips a sweet pull with his, kissing you so deeply that you feel your whole body crumble from it and you nearly let out a tiny sob.
“It’s okay,” He says while pushing the head inside, immediately stretching you wider than his fingers can ever do, and you suck in a sharp breath with tears beginning to form.
And Kuroo can see the tears lacing your eyelashes—making them wet and shiny—and he merely swipes at one of your eyes with his thumb so tenderly before leaning back.
And his voice is soft—a huge contrast to the words that slip out of his mouth as he holds onto your waist with both hands, pushing his cock inside you until you think you might feel it in your lungs.
“Don’t cry, love,” Kuroo coos as he pulls back, the tip of his dick catching at your hole, causing a trickle of your juices to gush out with how wet and messy you are. “You just need to lay there and be pretty for me, okay?”
“O-okay,” You breathe out harshly, your lips, head, arms—everything—feel numb. “Please, ‘Surou, I—”
Your sentence gets cut short when he decides to push back in at that very moment—making your words bleed into a moan as you feel every part of him spread you open.
God—
“I know,” Kuroo groans, rolling his hips to set a pace, hearing the wet squelch that your pussy makes as he fucks you—making his head spin. “I know, baby, I’ll make you feel all sore and full with my cum, okay? Just how you like it.”
And he sticks to that promise soon after.
He fucks you deep and slow, dragging it out and building that tight ball of heat in your lower stomach until everything in your body feels tense and ready to explode.
Kuroo stuffs his dick inside your pussy that’s dripping with every thrust—making a mess on the bed and between your thighs—while one of his hands comes to push down on your belly.
“Oh—oh fuck—”
You shake, eyes wide, and your mouth is agape with a silent scream from the pressure on your stomach—feeling the twin sensation of being so fucking full with his cock and him hitting your g-spot over and over and over and—
Oh, god.
“I—“
You can’t speak.
You feel mindless and tongue-heavy.
And Kuroo can tell by the way you hear him let out a knowing chuckle, his pace growing more harsh and needy as he presses his palm on your stomach even lower. “My pretty doll all fucked stupid that she can’t talk?”
Your entire body shakes, feeling heat flush in your cheeks.
You nod, panting, uncaring of the degrading words, and Kuroo’s smirk grows. “Poor baby, those pills really did make you all dumb for me, huh?”
You know he doesn’t mean it.
Even when he says those words out loud—and through your addled mind—you can hear the notes of affection hanging on those words.
And for some odd reason—it just spurs you on, even more, making you lose it as you arch your back, your orgasm ready to combust.
And Kuroo must be able to tell as he lets out a drawn-out groan, raw and low and heavy, and he starts to rock his hips faster—fucking you with the intention to make you feel him in your guts.
“So tight for me, my love, god—” You cry out a moan, your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white as Kuroo fucks you through your fourth orgasm for the night.
This one feels like a snap against your clit, an explosion of heat and buzzing pleasure spreading throughout your body, and your vision turns blurry as you shake.
But that’s not the only thing.
“Fuck, baby, keep going,” You faintly hear Kuroo’s voice, but you have lost every sense of self and feeling to know what he’s talking about and the fact that you’re squirting all over his dick—soaking the bed and his thighs in the process.
He continues to fuck you through it—leaning down to kiss you with his tongue licking inside your mouth like he needs to taste every inch of you—
And all you do is lay there and take it, silent tears running down your cheeks as he pumps his fat cock into your squirting pussy—all abused and puffy and drenched—until his dick finally throbs, letting out thick spurts of cum inside you.
Filling you up like he said he would.
“You’re such a good girl, taking me all so well like a good little slut, baby,” Kuroo mumbles against your quivering mouth, licking your lips and then your cheek to catch a few tears. “I’ll make sure you keep all of it, okay?”
You’re so fucking out of it.
You don’t care about the mess or how dirty you are.
Your eyelids are ready to drop and you’re so close to passing out that you move with little resistance as Kuroo carefully turns you on your side to lay on the bed—and he goes to lie down, cock still inside you, pulling your back flush against his chest, your fluids and sweat mixing seamlessly.
He kisses your neck and holds you tight, both of you breathing heavily as your bodies move in tandem, making you keep his dick warm for the time being to make sure his cum stays inside.
And then—
“You okay?”
Even though sex with Kuroo is always mind-blowing.
Without a doubt one of the best things to experience in life—
The way he treats you after?
The tender kisses, light touches, words full of praises and affection right after?
That’s what you love just as much.
He knows how to make you feel loved—secure—after sex.
You hum, sleepy and sluggish, and snuggle up to him, your pussy still twitching every now and then as you two lay there, cuddled and basking in the other’s warmth. “I’m okay.”
He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever been with, treating you better than you’ve ever known by other people—even if he fucks you like you’re a whore sometimes.
And you honestly wouldn’t ask for it any other way.
End.
Masterpost
#haikyuu#haikyū!!#haikyu smut#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#kuroo smut#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu kuroo#Kuroo x Reader smut#kuroo x you#kuroo x y/n#kuroo tetsuro x you#kuroo tetsurou smut
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★ how will people feel about you going public with your fp?
NOTE: for entertainment purposes only. take what resonates & leave what doesn't. ⭐️ i always appreciate the feedback so don't be shy. MWAH. enjoy!
PILE 1.
i feel like this relationship is going to cause quite a stir, pile 1. the energy is giving “that should be me!” lmao some people are really going to be mad as fuck. your person is going to treat you like an absolute queen and i’m hearing people scoff like “UGH!” which is crazy cause you might not even know these people, but y’alls relationship evokes this energy out of them. you (or possibly your fp) might have a narcissistic ex lurking in the shadows who constantly watches your social media & keeps tabs on y’alls relationship. it’s really weird, EW. they feel like they didn’t have you the way your person does, and it makes them really fucking jealous – it’s honestly absurd.
they fumbled you and they’re really going to regret it!especially because of how well your fp treats you & prioritizes your relationship. this ex has a BIG ass ego like the way they make everything about themselves is insane?! this person could be a fire sign – i’m picking up on some leo energy. they’re in disbelief that you moved on from them, and found someone wayyyy better that fulfills you in so many ways that they couldn’t possibly measure up to. they might create fake pages or reach out to you repeatedly trying to win you back over…it’s shameful honestly. from the outside looking in, your relationship with your fp is going to look so lowkey + private yet so warm + stable. you or your fp could have scorpio/taurus placements, but i just feel like neither of you are the type to post every single thing you do together on social media but people will know that’s YOUR FP, YOUR FP, YOUR FP! like don’t play!
y’all will make it very known that y’all are a couple, but people will not be all up in the mix because y'all simply don’t want them to be. they’ll see little hints and clues that you’re off the market, but this relationship is for you two, not everyone else. i can see you both posting things like holding hands, dinner dates, taking long walks together, an off guard while one of you is doing something, etc. just cute moments that only show a small glimpse of the immense love you two share on a day to day basis.
PILE 2.
were you split between choosing this pile and pile 1 lol? if so, check out pile 1 as well! there might be some messages in there for you too. now anyways, i’m ngl this is giving me single era vibes. you might have options and even if you don’t…you’re like “is any person really worth going public with?” LOL i get it, i really do. you’re very cautious and want to make sure that you’re not wasting your time on a relationship that you know might not last in the long run – you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment.
if you went public with someone…that means you really are committed like they REALLYYYYY won you over because you don’t pop out with just anybody! it takes a lot of effort to keep your attention, let alone gain your trust to be in a public relationship. i actually think your content with being by yourself right now. of course, you want a partner who can provide you with the best and also be loyal and committed to you.
however, you're willing to wait for that one person instead of wasting your time on others who don't meet those standards. OOOOO did some of my fellow saturnians choose this pile? this energy is amazing like seriously i’m so proud of you! you’re doing the inner work and it’s genuinely going to pay off in the long run. you’re cultivating your own happiness and building up your self-confidence. because of that, you’re going to attract a like-minded partner. you will have your desired reality, pile 2! you don’t live your life based on society’s standards and expectations. you’re on a different vibration and are attracting love, prosperity and abundance towards yourself effortlessly because you refuse to settle for less and put yourself in a box.
i know this reading is about how people will feel about you going public with you fp, but you genuinely don’t give a fuck what people think lol. people won’t even be able to form a proper opinion, because you are genuinely on a different level. i randomly just heard that one nicki minaj video when she’s like “BROKE PPL SHOULD NEVER LAUGH!” lmfaooooo i’m sorry but yeah! once you get everything you always said you would, including your fp, people are gonna be real silent no shade.
PILE 3
um pile 3 why is this energy a bit messyyyy, hold awn?! your relationship with your future partner might be different from what you perceive, or at least that’s how the public views it. take that with a grain of salt, but i feel like this relationship is going to have its ups and downs and it’s going to reflect on y’alls social medias.
you or your future partner might be the type to get emotional and act out by reposting different quotes on your IG story or tiktoks that relate to your situation, might even go as far as posting cryptic messages to allude that you two are on the outs. you and your fp know how to push each other’s buttons, and it honestly can get petty between you both. someone is not fully healed from their previous relationship in this connection & the unresolved baggage is carrying over into this one. idk, pile 3. for some of you this could be a karmic relationship and for others of you this could be baggage on your end that you need to work through in order for you to be in a stable relationship.
there seems to be a lot of wishy-washy energy, and people might perceive your relationship as having a 'one minute they're together, the next minute they're not' type of vibe. also, i’m picking up on a third-party situation where either you or your partner is keeping someone on the back burner without completely closing the door.
honestly, people might be amused by this and say things like, 'OMG, go check [Y/N]’s IG story and go see what [Y/FP] posted,' which only fuels the mind games being played. ultimately, i think this relationship will teach you about healthy boundaries and what you are and aren’t willing to tolerate, especially in public. it’s messy because this third party keeps interfering and amplifying the situation to make it worse. the ball is ultimately in your court, pile 3. you’ll know what to do.
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Readjusting
context: just a few somewhat angsty headcanons I have for when MC and Solomon return to the present after everything, enjoy!!
warnings: this does contain nightbringer spoilers
the past changes people
MC will often become more hesitant to talk to or even engage with the brothers. Due to being treated as an attendant in the past they now are used to it, so whenever one of the brothers tries to engage with them they find it hard to sit still or listen to said brother for long periods of time without feeling out of place.
MC will often mix up the fact that they are an exchange student rather than an attendant. When Diavolo claims that he wants MC to feel comfortable as an exchange student MC will respond with something along the lines of how they don’t need much because they’re the brothers attendant. Which in return gets a few confusing stares from others.
MC still carries out some of their duties as an attendant unconsciously. Such as keeping track of the brother’s schedules, events, student council meetings, etc. The brothers don’t mind at first however what they do find unpleasant is the fact MC always follows behind them instead of right beside them like they used too. This doesn’t register until one of them says something to MC, which they in turn respond with “I always follow behind all seven of you”. Which makes their hearts sink.
Still focusing on the attendant duties, MC will still continue to carry out anything asked of them without much of a fight. Since they were so used to carrying out such elaborate things when watching over the brothers in the past they are now used to doing such tasks for them. Most of the time this will confuse most of the brothers because MC is usually more vocal with their opinion on something.
MC will unconsciously be a bit harsher and stricter on the brothers than they usually were. Since being their attendant MC had to keep each of them on a tight leash so they wouldn’t get into trouble. So now in the present if they were to start fighting MC would be the first to show up to scold them instead of Lucifer.
MC will just straight up be petty with Lucifer for a while. Due to the things he said while they were in the past they still haven’t completely forgiven him. So whenever Lucifer mentions his “family”, MC finds themselves saying some remark along the lines of “well that doesn’t include me” or “just the seven of you I know. I leave you all alone” is enough to confuse and hurt the hell out of him. MC knows that Lucifer does really care for them in this timeline, but they can’t help it. His words really did hurt them deeply for awhile.
On another topic of MC’s attitude, Diavolo soon realizes that they are much more formal with him. The cute nickname Dia was dropped and he was always referred to by a title now. When Diavolo questioned them about formality MC simply explained that the past Barbatos didn’t like them referring to Diavolo in such a manner.
MC is now more vigilant around Satan, Belphegor and Barbatos, each for different reasons.
Satan is one that worries MC the most because they became used to having to deal with his violent outbursts and destructive episodes. So when Satan gets angry in the present MC will step in front of him and the brothers separating them. Satan soon grows confused when MC prepares a spell to restrain him.
Belphegor doesn’t worry MC as much as the other two, but after he found out they were a human in the past and tried to kill them again in response MC had to remain vigilant. They still do whenever they are alone with him. Which in turn makes the youngest guilty about the past.
Barbatos is someone MC keeps Solomon away from at all costs. After all MC was used to Barbatos teleporting the sorcerer around from place to place. It did become concerning when Solomon would show up later and later each time he came home. So to avoid that MC would make themselves and Solomon avoid the butler at all costs. However the present butler soon finds this behavior hurtful when MC constantly declines his offer to come over. In the end MC has a hard time remembering that this isn’t the past Barbatos.
Many soon noticed the strong bond MC now has with Solomon and of course they all become jealous. At first they noticed how MC would go to him for little things, or just prefer to be around him more, but when they asked about moving in with him rather than staying in the House of Lamentation it threw everyone for a loop. It made it even worse when MC said they’ll be there to help the brothers every morning like usual. They wanted MC to realize that they’re an exchange student not an attendant.
Many also notice how reliant they are on Solomon for certain things. Sometimes MC just needs Solomons presence in a room to be able to feel comfortable. If not MC will then become slightly annoyed or fidgety.
Solomon becomes more protective over MC without even realizing it. If he believes one of the brothers are being too bothersome to MC he will step in and whisk them away.
Solomon finds it easier to steal MC’s attention away now. Before when he would try and drag them away from the brothers, or even try and steal their attention for just a second it always failed. However with how close they both became in the past, if Solomon interrupts a conversation MC is having with the brothers MC finds themselves listening to him a bit more than the brother they were speaking with.
MC is much more reckless and blunt with their decision making now. Before they were a bit more collected with their thoughts. However being in the past made their impulsive decision making become a habit. Thus causing the brothers to sometimes question MC methods.
MC would often question the brothers as to why they weren’t in their demon forms. They suppose they just got used to seeing them in those outfits for so long now it became the norm.
#obey me#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me nightbringer#obey me nightbringer spoilers#demon brothers#obey me luficer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me solomon#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me angst#obey me nightbringer angst
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The Misteryous Visitor 6
Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)
Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.
Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;
Word count: 4k
Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6
Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.
But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.
“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”
He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.
You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.
Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.
From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:
“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.
It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”
So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.
“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.
He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.
“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.
Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:
“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.
“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.
“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”
“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.
“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”
Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.
“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.
It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.
“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.
The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.
“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.
Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.
“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”
Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”
“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”
So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.
Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.
“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”
Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.
“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.
“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.
“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.
Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”
The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.
It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.
“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”
“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”
Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.
Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.
This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.
Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.
Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.
Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.
“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.
“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.
“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.
“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.
You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.
Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.
“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.
“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.
You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”
Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.
“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”
“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.
Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.
“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.
You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.
Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”
“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.
“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”
“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.
“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.
“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.
“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.
You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.
“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.
You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.
Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.
You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.
As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.
She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.
“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”
“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.
“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”
Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:
“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”
Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.
“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”
“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.
“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.
“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”
“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.
Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.
“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”
Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”
“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.
“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.
Tag list:
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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou
#imagine#x reader#angst#batman#batsis#batfam#batfamily#bruce wayne#damian wayne#dick grayson#sister reader#daughter reader#child reader#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x sister reader#batman x reader#batman x daughter reader#batfam x batsis
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Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 1 ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)
ଳ you fell first, but they definitely fell harder ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, barou shoei, reo mikage, rin itoshi ଳ tags; fluff, gn reader, no y/n
ᯓ Isagi Yoichi
"Hm? You wanna go get dinner? Of course. Let's go."
Getting your feelings reciprocated wasn't all that hard. You liked each other and it was all good then. But it was obvious that you took the relationship seriously early on. For a lack of a better term, it was quite one-sided for a while.
He'd be thinking about that fact a lot. Should he be happy? Should he be guilty? So so many thoughts racked his brain.
Eventually—after thinking about it so much—it's like his brain reprogrammed him. A switch was flipped and one day he was lovesick with you. He realized that life wouldn't be the same if you weren't there for him.
Everything you did for him—piled up—and his heart caved. Isagi thought he was the biggest fool for not taking you seriously as well when you first started off.
The whippest of whipped men—I tell ya. He'll indulge you in every little wish and desire you had. Absolute princess treatment from him. But he does unironically call you "queen."
ᯓ Barou Shoei
"What are you talking about? I've always been serious about you!"
The only reason he didn't pour in as much effort at first was because he was too focused on football and improving himself. You fully supported him and his dreams though. Instant brownie points!
He realizes how determined you are to stand behind him no matter what. Slowly, but surely, he builds up so much gratitude for your efforts that he softens over time.
He also realizes that you don't deserve to just cheer him from behind. As a matter of fact, you should be right beside him instead—celebrating his wins as if it were your own.
Barou tries to do the same and support you in the things you love. He'll even learn a thing or two about your hobbies so that you can bond over that as well. He tries so hard to make the relationship so equal and fair. His attempts give you the butterflies.
He will deny at all costs that he didn't love you as much as he did now. Barou will insist that he had loved you soooo much ever since. You knew he was sugarcoating to save your feelings, but it was endearing how he tried nonetheless.
ᯓ Reo Mikage
"New shoes? What about some jewelry? C'mon, let me spoil you a bit."
He was a bit reserved about your relationship at first. You were lovely and every positive adjective out there—but he had his reasons to be iffy. He's stinking rich and people have definitely taken advantage of that before.
However, you weren't like his previous lovers. You could care less about his wealth; you loved him simply for him. Painstaking as it was—you made sure that he'd realize that somehow.
And he does notice this. It was subtle, but he'd slowly ease up on you—becoming more open, spending more time with you, and being more affectionate overall.
You know he's wrapped around your little finger because he just introduced you to his parents. That's when you know it's getting SERIOUS.
When he does fall deeply in love with you, he does a whole 360 and starts spoiling you like crazy. He'll treat you out to 5-star restaurants, buy you designer brand clothing, and bring you to places all over the world. As much as you try to refuse and settle for something more lowkey, he will never back down.
ᯓ Rin Itoshi
"You're so annoying... yeah, yeah... I love you too."
He was hesitant at first because he has major abandonment issues (poor baby). He liked you, sure, but that was as far as he'd allow himself to fall for you. "Love" seemed too serious and dangerous for him to get into.
His doubts bled into your relationship and made it difficult. Truthfully, there were times when you questioned if it was worth it. But you persevered; you wanted to prove him wrong.
After a major fight, he was sure that you were going to leave without another thought. He anticipated this moment yet, he felt like he wasn't ready at all for your departure in his life.
Rin was about to go into an existential crisis when... you somehow came back to him. You smiled at him as if nothing had happened. You told him that you still loved him for all his faults. It felt like he was slapped across the face (in a good way).
Once you had helped him overcome his issues, he felt a bit more comfortable with the idea of "loving" you. So much so that he'd do everything in his power to keep you happy at all times. He was sure that he will never come across someone like you again in his life.
o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.
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Standing up for your rights and safety is not disrespectful.
If a person identifies as trans, that honestly has nothing to do with me. I don’t think it’s truly possible, I think the ideology does more harm than good, and I think there are better ways to cope with gender dysphoria; however, it’s a free country and no matter how much I dislike it sometimes, people can and should be able to express themselves however they want.
I won’t tell a trans person how to live their life. I won’t argue with them about their own feelings and identity no matter how strongly I feel. That would be disrespectful.
Standing up for my rights and integrity as a woman ISN’T disrespectful, though.
To better articulate what I’m trying to say, I will list some examples:
Not letting a trans kid sit at the same lunch table as you and your friends just because they’re trans is mean. Asking a trans person to change in the locker room that corresponds to their biological sex is not mean. That is standing up for your right to a single-sex space.
Denying a transgender person service at an establishment because they are trans is wrong. That’s discrimination. Not permitting a transgender athlete to compete in the sports league/team that doesn’t correlate with their biological sex is not discrimination, though. That is simply reinforcing fairness, safety, and the integrity of said sports league/team.
A homeless shelter denying help to a transgender person because they’re transgender is cruel. A single sex shelter denying access to someone of the opposite sex and directing them towards a place that can help them isn’t cruel. That’s just protecting the inhabitants of said single sex shelter.
Bullying and harassing a transgender person is always condemnable. Expressing how you feel about a situation that affects you and makes you uncomfortable and saying things that are scientifically accurate is justified.
As humans, we all need to treat each other with kindness, but that does not mean that we need to let people walk over us and invalidate our rights and feelings.
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Perchance… could I request the bg3 companions with a Tav who has a bleeding heart? They’ll do what they need to do, kill who they need to, etc. but they still are easily tricked by just basic human kindness and often feel guilty for killing folk and whatnot. They’re ridiculously caring towards the party as well, often putting their needs above their own.
Karlach
Karlach gets it. She really does. But she’s been through (literal) Hell and has learned to be a bit more cautious
But she adores how much you love and trust people
I almost see her as someone who would go behind after you to set people straight if they conned you or anything like that
Something about it is so heartwarming ;) to Karlach, watching you take care of everyone - herself included. She wants you to look after her forever while she does the same for you
Shadowheart
almost disgusted by your altruism, in the beginning. She sees no point in it and points it out readily to you
Deep down though, even in the beginning, she likes it and almost envies you for it. She feels bad for speaking down to you especially after she’s had time by your side
Shadowheart enjoys being doted on and care for. She enjoys that you treat your friends like family and that you’re all carving out a little place for y’all
She’ll pout if you’re fussing over someone more than her, though she tries to deny it
Lae’zel
Similarly to Shadowheart, I think at first Lae’zel would find your actions unnecessary and dragging. She’s on a time crunch and knows where she needs to go, and helping all these people isn’t helping y’all
I’m not sure Lae’zel would ever truly warm up to being so willing to lend a helping hand. But I think she would appreciate and commend (and come to respect) you for being able to care so deeply for others (she’s not so certain she’s capable of that magnitude)
Forces you to take care of yourself and won’t hear shit about it; no she didn’t cook this meal just for you to ignore it bc Shadowheart needs to traumadump some more, eat you doofus
Gale
Gale finds it endearing, if a little worrisome. He’s happy to let you fawn over your camp mates but he’s draws the line at being so easily swayed by strangers
He tries to be diplomatic when he’s urging you away from suspicious individuals bc he really doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel like you need to change, he’s just trying to protect you to his best ability
Gale’s not particularly used to being doted on, but it’s almost…relieving, in a way. Refreshing?
He does work very hard to make sure you’re taken care of as well, cooking good meals and forcing coercing you to bed at a reasonable time
Wyll
heart eyes
Wyll himself sees (or wants to see) the world through rose colored glasses so he’s enamored that you do
He’s also probably one of the only ones to really understand your guilt over killing, even when necessary. He’s happy to talk you through your emotions over it and never hesitates to reassure you that you’re doing the right thing
flusters when your attention turns to him, but doubles it back in repayment to you
Astarion
Astarion seethes at first. He hates your tender-heartedness, hates how kind and soft you are, how loving you are with everyone, it’s just grinds against him
As he sorts through his trauma (and comes to appreciate your care, towards him and your friends at least) he stops whining about it…as much
He will absolutely shut someone down if they’re trying to use, manipulate, or fool you. Astarion only refrains from more…permanent silencing solutions because he knows you wouldn’t like it
He does, however, preen under your attention. True, no-strings-attached care? It takes him a long time to comfortable with it but he cherishes it
Halsin
While he certainly adores your tenderness, he tries to caution you over being too willing to blindly believe someone
Halsin is happy to comfort you through any remorse or guilt of course, but is quick to remind you that this is simply the way the world works
Watching you take care of your little band of misfits makes him melt. You care for them and then he cares for you when you come to him at the end of the day
Halsin would carry your burdens for you if he could, instead he’ll travel by your side and help you help others (while giving you looks that make you swoon let’s be real)
#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#halsin x reader#gale x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#lae’zel x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader
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Treat you like a lady
• Your boyfriend doesn’t pay enough attention to you. Chris doesn’t like that.
• This is extremely cheesy!! That’s just how I am. Contains smut.
• Word count: 2,031
Sunday
Today is a weekend like any other; you’re lounging on the triplets’ couch.
The tv is playing as background noise. Chris is on his laptop working on new Fresh Love designs while you lay next to him scrolling pinterest. You've known each other long enough that you can enjoy each other's company without forcing conversation. Simply being around him allows you to relax, and vice versa. You can’t find that with many people.
A sex scene causes the pair of you to look up. You exchange looks and chuckle like teenagers at it.
Chris breaks the awkward silence.
“Is it actually that good or is she playing it up?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug and go back to my phone.
I can see Chris’s brows furrow from my peripheral vision.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never had a guy go down on me before.”
“What?”
You look up from your phone.
“…What.” You echo.
“No, what do you mean you’ve never had head before? You have a boyfriend. You’ve had a boyfriend for 3 months.”
Your cheeks get warm.
Think of a way to brush this off.
“It’s not a big deal. Not everyone’s into that.”
He seems stunned, gaze focused on his sneakers.
“... Do you do it for him?”
A sigh leaves your lips, “Chris-”
“No, listen to me. If he’s not reciprocating then the problem clearly isn't that he's uncomfortable. It's that he's selfish.”
Who does Chris think he is that he can judge your love life?
“This is none of your business.” You scoff.
“I think I should go.” You stand up and grab your bag.
Chris doesn’t give up yet.
“Okay, forget about that part for a second. When’s the last time he took you out? When's the last time he surprised you?”
You're struggling to swallow down a still-beating heart. You're avoiding eye contact with an angry version of one of your closest friends, and you’re trying to block out the possibility that what he's saying could be true.
“I’ll see you later, Chris.”
7:00 pm
Chris: I'm sorry. I overstepped earlier. just think you deserve better.
You read and reread the message. Typing out a reply and deleting it. Maybe what you need is space. You put your phone on do not disturb and crawl under the covers.
Trying to distance yourself from Chris would prove to be a waste of time because you end up having a dream about him.
“Hey gorgeous” a voice whispers in your ear.
It sounds familiar but there’s no one else with you in this room, so you can’t match the voice with a face. Whoever it’s coming from, their voice sounds like silk.
You're twisting your head around to try and find the source. Whoever’s in here with you finds that amusing because laughter follows.
“I'm over here, goof.”
It’s him. He walks over to you with a smile on his face and those big blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you asked
“I just missed you.” he says as he grabs your hand and twirls you around.
1:12 am
Well, that’s a first.
Monday
Chris opened the front door.
“Hey, I’m so glad you wanted to come over.” He said smiling.
Your face however wasn’t as cheerful.
“Yeah about that,”
You cleared your throat and walked inside.
“I think we should spend a little time apart. Like a refresh.”
His expression dropped instantly. You can’t keep eye contact. It’s too hard.
“What?”
“It’s not personal, it’s-”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“Chris , this is my relationship, stay out of it.” You say sternly.
“How can I when you’re all I think about?”
The air in the room gets thick.
“What?”
“I mean,” He scrunched his eyes and rubs his forehead. Flipping through the pages of his brain for the right words.
“I could treat you better than him.”
You laugh, “What are you talking about?”
He slowly brings his hand up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You know it’s true.”
He takes a step toward me, his breath on my cheeks.
“I can make you feel good.”
You involuntarily gulped, which caused him to smirk. He tries to hide it.
Your mouth moves but no sound emits from it. You feel paralyzed.
He must be bluffing… right?
“Let me show you.” he whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You don���t know exactly when he stepped closer but your noses are now touching.
I need to stop this.
“I have a boyfriend.” You say in a meek voice.
Chris very lightly put his right hand on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt.
“Does he make you nervous like I do?”
Chris' eyes fall to your lips.
“If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”
Shit.
Soft, pink lips touch yours. You don’t kiss back but don’t run away either. Just wanting to take in the dimensions and texture of his lips. He starts to pull back.
Wait, don’t go anywhere.
You press your lips forward, chasing him.
It makes him smile into the kiss, which in turn makes you smile. The weird sensation causes you both to start laughing.
He straightens up.
“I wanna be with you too. Wo don’t know why I was ever with him in the first place.”
Chris can’t contain his smile. He covers his mouth.
“Sorry. I know I should be more… apologetic? I guess? But I’m not. I want you all to myself.”
“Yes, you've made that quite clear.”
You pull Chris back in for a kiss by his hoodie, it makes his insides stir. He places both his hands on the sides of your face, deepening the kiss.
You pull back for air.
“I should go tell him it’s over before things go any further.”
“Ok.”
But Chris goes right back to kissing you. Sliding his thumb across your cheek.
It’s so dreamy. You have to will yourself to stop.
“Ok I’m serious this time!” You chuckle. “Can I come back tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
4:15 pm
Me: just left his house. whew.
Chris: im proud of u and so grateful.
6:00pm
“How long have you liked me?”
“Almost our entire friendship. I don’t think I realize it until you started dating Andrew.”
Laying on Chris’s chest is the happiest you’ve felt in months. You two have been talking about all the things that made you fall for each other. He’s been rubbing your back for the past 20 minutes but decides to put his hand under your shirt to enhance the feeling.
You sighed and relaxed even more on top of him, closing your eyes.
“Damn, you have some knots right here.”
“Ugh, yeah. That’s where I carry stress.”
“Here, lay on your stomach. I bet I can relieve it.”
Chris moves so you can lay flat. Once you’re comfortable he straddles your hips and brings his hand to the hem of your shirt.
“Is it ok if I bring this up?”
“Mhm.”
He lifts your shirt to where your bra starts ,then gets to work.
Maybe it’s the skin to skin contact, or the fact that your muscles were tense, but his hands feel heavenly. You can’t help but let out a string of sighs.
“That feeling good?”
“Yes, oh my god. Thank you so much.”
He chuckles. “Anything for my girl.”
After a few minutes of the same motions he decides to explore new territory.
He rubs his hands over your hips, your ribs, and now your thighs.
“Seems like there’s a lot of heat coming from your legs, baby.”
“You’re such a good massager it’s hardly my fault.” You tease back.
You try to close your legs together but he doesn’t like that. Keeping a hand right between them.
He brings his mouth right next to your ear. Lowering his voice.
“Do you need relief somewhere else, baby?”
While he talks he maneuvers his hand so it’s nearly flat against your clothed center.
You try to keep it together. You can’t already be at a loss for words.
You nod into his pillow.
“Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty face.”
Your cheeks heat up immediately as you position yourself on your back. The two of you make eye contact and any anxiety you had about intimacy with Chris is gone.
“We can stop whenever you want.” He says before kissing you.
“Let me show you how a real man behaves.”
He smirks and lowers himself to your stomach. Kissing your happy trail. Leaving tiny bites.
Since you’re wearing sweats he slides them off in seconds, taking your underwear with them. He tosses them over his shoulder and they hit some things in his dresser, causing them to fall. It makes you giggle but Chris is entranced by the sight before him.
“Jesus Christ.” He says to himself.
He runs his nose where your leg meets your hip. Kissing further and further. Creating a puddle before he even touches you. He licks your inner thighs. Painting them with purple marks.
Finally, his mouth is where you crave it. He’s apprehensive at first but once you let out your first moan it’s all over for him.
Chris sucks your clit and your mind goes blank. Nothing ever felt like this before.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
When he goes back down he licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit.
Your back arches off the bed.
“That’s it.” he says into my skin.
He’s lapping at your folds like it’s water and he’s been in a drought. Grabbing onto your thighs to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Not that you'd want to, but his actions do cause quite a bit of squirming.
“God, you’re everything.”
It almost seemed like he was saying it to himself. Like he couldn’t believe youre real.
“Next time you want something done right, come to me.”
“Fuck yes.” You moan.
When he lifts his face up again, your juices are dripping down to his neck. You’re so mesmerized by the sight you don’t register what he's saying. It just sounds like white noise.
Chris tsks.
“Looks like I fucked you dumb, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up.”
You push his face back down. He starts fucking you with his tongue.
“Yes ma’am.”
Jesus
Your thighs tighten around his neck, he squeezes them back as a response.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Like syrup.”
You can’t do anything more than whimper and grind into his face.
Chris grabbed the hand that was clenching the bedsheets and guided it to his hair. You happily thread your fingers through.
He touches you like you're all he asked god for. The sounds coming from you are his favorite song. This is the alchemy he does.
“Oh god,” your voice goes up an octave.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Please, so close.”
“Cmon, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
He made you a whimpering mess. Arousal dripping down your legs, down his lips, on the sheets. Chris continues to reach his tongue deep inside you while drawing figure eights on your clit.
In an instant your vision goes black.
The next minute was spent shaking and catching your breath. Goosebumps littered all over my body.
You don’t know when but at some point Chris must’ve turned you so you were laying on your side. He pulled a lightweight blanket over you and was now playing with your hair.
“Hey pretty girl.” He said softly as you opened your eyes.
“Hi”
“You did so well for me.” He kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t move.”
He quickly wet a washcloth and grabbed a water bottle.
You could drift off to sleep at any moment, but Chris made sure to clean you up first.
It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He made sure you were warm enough. every few minutes he laid kisses on your face. You were too tired to say anything but he could see how happy you were. That was enough for him
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Empty thoughts just rough sex with dilf Bang Chan ☝️🎀
no because e x a c t l y! dilf!chris loves that he gets to have you in ways that no one else has before and takes so much pride in what you've created together that he's almost insatiable because of it, always chasing the high of those precious feelings you've given him. i have SO many thoughts...i'll share a few before i spare you of my otherwise extensive list
pairing: dilf!bang chan x wife!reader
dilf!chris who loves his kids (and you) more than anything but who not-so-secretly dislikes the fact that he has to be so careful about when and where he can fuck you, so he goes out of his way to create as many opportunities as possible
dilf!chris who sneaks off and tells the kids that he's helping mommy with the laundry with the knowledge that the sound of the machine might help drown out the sound of him pounding into you, especially if he bends you over it so that it at least sounds like the noises are coming from the right spot.
dilf!chris who also tells the kids to go play in the living room while you're cooking "because it's not safe to roughhouse near the cooktop or the oven". the real reason is that he wants some privacy to be able to grind his dick against his wife's ass and tell her how hard he's going to fuck her once the little ones are asleep.
dilf!chris who books lavish hotel rooms on date nights just so that he doesn't have to worry about being quiet. and since you don't have to worry about interruptions there, you can go for however many rounds he decides. never less than three.
dilf!chris who hires a part time nanny who he pays generously so that he can feed his craving anytime he wants since they'll always cancel on other families for the money they'll get from watching the bang children if an extended family member's not around to do it.
dilf!chris who has two preferred ways of helping you relax: eating you out or fucking you dumb. he spoils you with other things to help in this regard, too, but he's selfish and likes it better when he's involved.
dilf!chris who's so easy to rile up by simply telling him that you want him to cum inside of you; him calling you his greedy slut while his hand wraps around your throat each time you do is something you've started to crave. "gonna put another baby in you since you love being so full of me."
dilf!chris who prefers missionary because it gives him better access to your face and he's got a bit of a thing for grabbing your jaw while he asks if you're sure you want another one or if you're just feeling so fucked out that you don't really know any better.
dilf!chris who, despite preferring missionary, regularly fucks you in front of the mirror just so that he can tell you how beautiful you are and force you to look, too. he praises you even more now that you've had his kids. while other moms worry whether their husbands are still attracted to them after birthing children, you know that you're even sexier to your husband now based on the way he treats you like rarely found, highly favored prey.
dilf!chris who forgets that fucking you in front of the mirror in itself doesn't really do anything for you when he's pulling your hair so hard that the angle your of your head makes it nearly impossible for you to see your reflection. at least you can look up and see his pretty eyes looking right back at you, though.
maybe i'll come back to this and add more of my thoughts eventuallyyyy
#ask#anon#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts#bang chan#skz smut#skz x reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut
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ATTENTION SISSY DIAPER FAGGOTS
If you can meet these simple criteria! Message me and we’ll see if we can’t destroy your masculinity too! Understand however this is a commitment! Im not interested in babies who use me to talk dirty too, get their rocks off and ghost! If im dominating you this is a commitment to produce what daddy demands. Im looking for a plaything that wants to be humiliated, regress, demoralised, pushed to do uncomfortable things and who can commit and follow my orders over a long period of time. Approach me diaper faggots, submit and i’ll make your sissy baby girl dreams come true!
Criteria-
1. Firstly I’m sorry but I’ve simply got no attraction too babies who are overweight, I get far more enjoyment out of skinny or slightly curvy faggots being feminised. However that said if you are slightly larger and agree to go on a strict workout and diet plan to make your body more effeminate then we can work with that.
2. You live alone! Its not a dealbreaker if you don’t but I prefer it because i will as a minimum want you caged and diapered when in your own home. The aim is that as a minimum i will operate a doorstep setup where in you will as an absolute minimum be MY sissy diaper fag while in your home and when you leave to go to work or other commitments then you may be a “man” again.
3. THERE ARE NO TRIBUTE FEES OR DEMANDS OF PAYMENT TO ME!!!! With that said, I don’t want payed by you but what i will do is ask you to buy or save up to by sissy baby faggot items or clothing which i want to see you in. In the event your a good faggot and do as your told then Daddy is not apposed to buying you little treats.
4. You understand that daily communication with Daddy is non negotiable, you must always see too it when Daddy messages you answer within 12 hours. You will not ghost or go on communication blackouts of any kind.
5. You understand that Daddy’s word on anything is right, is law, you will endeavour to do everything exactly how daddy says and you’ll consider daddy’s opinion when making any big decisions yourself.
6. Now this one seems odd but please, only cisgender males approach. I have nothing against transgirl sissies i just personally dont feel comfortable degrading or humiliating them about being failures as men and giving the usually sissy humiliation tasks to someone who’s genuinely not comfortable in their own skin and is changing gender. Its less of a you thing and more of a me thing on that one.
What will be expected of you:
1. You will at an absolute bare minimum be expected to wear chastity 24/7 and diapers at any time when you are not at work.
2. You will present as a juvenile, girly, effeminate, dress wearing, diaper using, juvenile activity doing sissy from the moment you enter your home till the moment you leave.
3. Over time i will force you to take on more effeminate characteristics to further destroy your masculinity such as growing out your hair, getting ear piercings, growing your nails, shaving ALL body hair from the nose down, painting your nails, perhaps dyeing your hair. Should you be committed enough you will eventually be forced to use a breast enlargement pump and perhaps even oestrogen.
4. You will fill your closet with sissy and sissy baby clothing of which i approve and over time will throw out male clothing you wear at home.
5. You will be given task which require time to be taken daily to learn new skills which are vital too a sissy like you such as makeup tutorials and hair styling tutorials.
6. You will also accept that you will be unpotty training yourself at night so that you are diaper dependent at bed time. I want you to wake every morning to the humiliating feeling of a full diaper.
#permanent feminization#faggot boy#sissy crossdresser#give up your manhood#sissy blackmail#faggot sissy#feminize me#sissy domination#uk sissy diaper daddy#sissy diaper#daddy diaper sissy#forced diaper sissy#sissy diaper cuck#prissy diaper sissy#diaper bound#diaper cuck
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light depictions of smut (not full on though), suggestive, mdni (+18), light angst, fluff(?), communication skills are key, gojo is...problematic in this.
Gojo Satoru was your boyfriend and partner in everything. He was your first kiss, the first boy you held hands with, he was your first date, and your first boyfriend.
And he turned out to be your first sexual partner as well.
However, you never told him any of this. When Gojo first asked you out, you thought it was some cruel joke he was playing, but as he kept pestering you, getting to know, and even tagged along with you on your less than stellar missions - well, you finally started to believe him. And there was the fact that you heard that he was experienced and only dated people who were also experienced. And you also heard that he wasn't a fan of virgins as you "have to teach them everything and they are always so delicate." Satoru once said he didn't have time for that. Which you understood. His life schedule was... horrendous... since he mainly spends his time in the jujutsu world.
So, in fear of losing him, you didn't tell him how he was your first kiss when he lips basically crashed into your own right outside your office door late one night. Or how he was your first date when he took you out to something like getting sweets together before going back to work. Or how he was your first time when would talk so cruelly to you and treat you like some whore.
Honestly, sex with Satoru did scare you a bit. Often times you find him rough, not once was he ever soft with you. You always hear how lovers are always careful with one another and trap each other in a loving embrace, but you never once felt that with Satoru. Not to mention that he says some mean things too. It always catches you off guard.
"Just shut your mouth already, you sound better when you're not talking."
"Aww, you crying? Can't take dick all that well?"
And then there afterwards.
You heard of aftercare but haven't experienced it yourself.
Most of the time when Satoru finishes you find yourself without an orgasm of your own, or you find yourself wobbling to the bathroom to clean yourself up. And sometimes, you end up walking home because Satoru either asks in such a way that is obvious that he wants you to leave or he asks you leave directly because he has an early mission in the morning.
All in all, sex with Satoru scares the living daylights out of you simply because it wasn't like anything you ever heard of before. And... you were hesitant to talk to him about it because, well, you were a virgin before him. You felt like you would just annoy him if you said anything about it.
"Maybe... I should talk to him about it..."
"Talk to who about what?"
Gojo smiled at you as he leaned against the doorframe to your office, his sudden appearance scaring you slightly as you jumped a little in your seat.
"Oh- uhh- I need to talk to Yaga about uhhhh- uhh a raise! Yeah, a raise!"
"A raise, huh, sweets?
You nodded, a smile on your lips as Gojo pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you. His hands in his pockets.
"Are you looking to buy something?"
"Oh uhmm.. no, nothing like that. I just feel like I deserve it, i guess."
You questioned yourself at the end.
Gojo smiled at that and moved to where he pushed your chair a little away so he could sit in front of you on the edge of your desk.
And even with his blindfold still on, you knew he was looking straight through you. Your lie crumbling ever so slightly.
"Mind telling me who you really need to talk to?"
You fidgeted a little.
"It's... actually with you."
"With me? Now that's way more interesting! What about, sweets?"
Oh god, were you actually going to do it? Just say it. Just come right out and say it.
It's easy.
Communication is key in any relationship, right?
Steadying yourself, you gulped.
"W- well, is it... is it ok... if you're a little softer... in sex?"
You cringed slightly at how you worded it.
Not to mention that he was the Gojo Satoru. He probably wasn't used to people telling him what he could and couldn't do.
"Softer?"
"Yeah... just a little and maybe... talk a little nicer."
You honestly felt like you were about to cry. Sure, you were able to kick some cursed spirit ass everyday to sunday, but when you actually had to confront people? You always crumbled away.
And before you could just take back what you said, Satoru reached out for you, his hand interlocking around one of your arms before pulling you up. The sudden force taking you off guard as you found your chest pressed against his own.
"Aww, is my sweet baby not liking the rough treatment?"
You shook your head and Gojo leant forward to capture your lips.
"Alright," he said in-between kisses, "I'll be as soft on you as you want. Though, I just have to ask, how long have you been feeling like this?"
"A- awhile. I- I just didn't know what to expect for a first time like that."
"First time?"
You froze completely.
"I was your first?"
You tried to pull away and backtrack, but he wasn't letting you go.
"Yeah..., you were... my first for everything actually."
And that's when it clicked for Satoru. It had him grinning like a dork.
"Then I wonder what other firsts i can be for you. Hey, that means you haven't tried anal right?"
"SATORU!"
His laughter was infectious.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#gojo jjk
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Some concept for yandere Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), please?
Sure! I ended up combining these two requests because how I end up writing Alastor is meant to be... unpredictable? He's a dubious pairing for me so you can argue most of his actions are already "platonic" as he wouldn't show any sign of real "attraction" anyways due to how he is. Hope you enjoy this regardless :)
Yandere! Alastor Concept
Pairing: Dubious (Leans Platonic?)
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Sadism, Blood, Murder, Isolation, Soul deals, Stalking, Forced companionship/pairing.
Ah, Alastor, the radio demon.
The thing about Alastor is not many know his true intentions.
It's hard to tell what he wants and that's what makes him an unnerving character.
He acts amiable, charming, good-natured, playful...
But he's a sinner like no other.
He's an Overlord who has killed other Overlords and made deals with many.
He's probably one of the more intimidating characters not only in the show... but to have as a yandere too.
He doesn't see many as his equal.
He's sadistic, a fan of violence, and has an ego.
Alastor tends to hide true emotions and is only around to entertain himself.
The most interesting and scary part of his yandere is how unpredictable he is.
It's unknown why he's attached himself to you.
For one reason or another you've managed to catch his eye.
I would say for better or for worse...
But we all know it's for worse, right?
Alastor wouldn't tell you why he likes you, you can't pick up on it either.
He's just overly friendly with you.
In some way you could consider the radio demon your "friend".
He's capable of friendship, hopefully, considering how he is with Nifty, Rosie, and Mimzy.
Having Alastor on your side, no matter his intentions, is probably better than having him against you.
The demon is oddly attentive to you when he's attached.
You intrigue him and speaking to you is entertaining.
You're entertaining.
In fact, most of the time it just seems like he's around to entertain himself.
Or it looks like he wants something.
Alastor never seems to leave your side, always right behind you, laughing along to a conversation he was never a part of.
He just seems to insert himself into your life, never taking his red eyes off you.
You most likely first met as a member of the hotel.
You work to help Charlie, a task he finds amusing.
Alastor's darling just seems to be treated like a toy at times.
Although, as it progresses, he slowly begins to "care" more.
It's hard to tell what's genuine and what isn't.
Alastor has an intimidating aura around all demons.
Even you feel uneasy when he appears around you, always being charming as he strolls over.
It's like he's always playing a game.
You can never seem to find privacy without the radio demon appearing.
You could be speaking with Charlie, or anyone else really...
Then all of a sudden the radio demon wants to join in on the chatter.
A reason for his friendly and attentive behavior could simply just be because he wants a deal with you.
However... There's also times he just seems... protective?
It's more like he's possessive... Yet they're so similar.
Alastor may rarely let his true feelings slip, but there's times he sheds a bit of light on how he feels.
For example, Alastor loves to listen in on your conversations, as said before.
If Alastor heard someone speak of you negatively or threaten you... You notice his aura change.
It's that or if someone gets too close in general... be it flirtation or even just friendship.
Charlie hugging you or Angel playfully flirting with you for example...
It all seems to irritate Alastor to no end.
Maybe even to the point of the radio demon stepping in, clearing his throat as he tries to keep his temper in check.
Alastor is always watching, always listening.
You may not be his... but he observes you like you are.
He treats you like you are.
The only thing not making you his is a deal.
Which he'll find a way to get eventually.
Perhaps a reason Alastor likes you is because he likes control?
Maybe the radio demon gets a power trip when he chooses who can interact.
While intimidating and downright passive aggressive with others...
Alastor is surprisingly great with you.
He's friendly, always smiling, chatting you up whenever he has the chance.
He acts like a friend... Even if you're unsure if you can call him that.
Alastor may even notice your distrust, always thinking of ways to break down that wall between you.
While he isn't a fan of true emotions, he likes to see yours for some reason.
You may not fully trust him, yet he watches your smiles, frowns, everything.
For some reason you're just so fun to watch.
Alastor likes to dance with you for bonding.
You two are buddies, aren't you?
In that case, join him for a number, will you?
Hell, Alastor seems like the type to playfully tease his obsession.
He'll compliment you, be playful... Just to see your reactions.
He's playing with you.
Alastor is manipulative, often doing anything he can to get you guard down.
He's good at putting on a show, dancing with you and acting all nice.
Although, no matter how much he tries to convince you...
He still isolates you from conversations he dislikes, he watches your every move, he seems to be aggressive to those around you.
It's more like he's territorial than protective.
Alastor can get messy when it comes to his obsession.
We've seen in the show that he can turn many lesser demons into paste.
He's also killed Overlords.
So him being obsessed with you is unnerving, even dangerous.
Mostly because... Why would someone as powerful as him want you under his control?
Sure, he considers you both friends, but what does that mean when it comes to him?
A demon like him only brings violence and trouble.
Even those who know the demon well are stumped as to why he wants you.
Alastor asking you for your soul is expected.
In fact, you may have been waiting for that.
Why else would he be this nice?
Alastor would no doubt pressure his obsession into a soul deal to make them his.
Nothing quite says 'mine' like a chain around your neck.
However, Alastor will try to be patient to play his cards right.
He wants you to believe him.
He tries to promise you care and protection if you make a deal.
He treats you well and is respectful to you.
Yet you can somewhat tell what exactly he wants.
His obsession over you would start as intrigue and a sadistic curiosity.
But who knows, maybe over time the Alastor grows attached to your company.
Alastor doesn't genuinely love or care for many people.
Never has.
However... Perhaps he feels that way with you.
He cares for you in his own way.
He cares for you enough to watch over you, to kill for you, to isolate you... to make you his.
The last thing he needs to do to secure his bond with you is a soul deal.
Something he plans to coerce or force out of you.
Maybe he'd threaten to harm someone you care about if you don't.
Or maybe he'll bribe you.
Eventually, like the 'good friend' he is, he'll get you to sign that contract and give him your soul.
After that? Well, you're completely his to do what he pleases with.
Oh, but he won't force you to do anything else you may not want, darling.
No, this was all just a way to secure you to him.
He's now your companion to the end, isn't he?
He'll hold you, comfort you, treat you better than any other demon here can.
Why would he?
Well, you're his now.
Now no one else can touch what's his.
Which allows the demon to isolate you.
He won't let others speak to you for too long, always lurking around to watch you.
If they do, he'll call you away from them.
Why would you speak to anyone else?
Why would you need anyone else?
Isn't he the best friend you could ever have?
The best companion? The only one you need?
If you don't think so... Maybe he needs to correct how you think?
You don't want that, do you?
Alastor, no matter how much he calls you his friend and companion, is condescending.
He makes it seem like he owns you.
Sure, maybe he does care for you, yet he still isolates you.
He still keeps you all to himself.
There's no point in fighting him... why would you even need to?
He really is all you need... the perfect charming companion... you'll get used to being his, you have to.
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Just seen your sfw & nsfw alphabet for gojo (my current obsession) and I think your grasp of his character is really good. I'm all for he's an all or nothing type. If you break through those walls he's all in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for how he'd be if his f partner was a virgin and not very used or comfortable with being vulnerable or exposed.
hi angelcake, i wrote a lil bit of a fic instead (sorry) !! if this doesn't answer your question, shoot me another one and i'll write some delicious headcanons instead ♡ thank you for requesting, love ♡
𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?
gojo satoru x virgin f!reader
“fuck, you’re so beautiful,”
satoru nips at your neck, the two of you grinding against one another on the couch. the apartment was cold, and the only light in the room was the low light of the television reflected against you and your boyfriend. it was playing some show you two stopped watching a while ago, the quiet dialogue between two characters on-screen humming behind satoru’s soft pants.
it felt good. satoru was a little needy; his hands running all over your body, pushing his own further into yours to try and be any closer than he was now.
it felt good, you thought. or it was supposed to.
anxiety started to pull you out of what was a moment of ecstasy. you became a little too aware of it all–how his body felt on yours, the way your hands rested effortlessly onto his back, how your hands were clammy, and your lips might be chapped, and your hair might be tangled, and-
“hey now,”
satoru catches his breath and runs the back of his hand on your cheek.
“you okay?”
his voice was soft, gentle, and concerned. it was safe. he was safe.
“i’m…um-”
your voice trailed off as your eyes darted to anywhere but his face. you settled on looking down into his lap.
“sorry. yeah, i’m fine. sorry about that,” you said.
satoru shuffled a bit more to get a better look at your face. something about the light coming off of the tv made your eyes look more watery than usual. but you had a soft blush on your face, and your lips were pouted and puffy. you looked perfect.
“we don’t have to go any further if you don’t wanna,”
“it’s okay, satoru, really,”
“have you ever…done this before, love?”
“um, sure–plenty of times,”
your lie must’ve been bad, because satoru saw right through you. he squeezed your hand in his and laughed when he answered.
“ah, i see, i didn’t realize i was with an expert in the field”
he was joking to make you feel better, but your face definitely got hot. you looked up to see him laughing, not daring to let go of your hand as he searched for what to say next.
“oh, shut up, satoru, i don’t know,” you make a weak attempt at defending yourself, “i’m nervous,”
your honesty makes his gaze soften into yours. he finally lets go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.
“we can go however far you want, okay?”
you nod as you feel emotions well up in your eyes.
“good to keep going, baby?”
“yeah, s’okay, satoru,”
he hums in agreement as he kisses you again, slowly working up to the pace you were at before.
it feels good. for real this time. you mean it when you think it, and you think it when you feel it. he feels good.
you stop a bit when satoru’s hand settles on the edge of your shirt, slowly lifting it. you pause as the cool air just touches the exposed skin, and satoru stops.
“is this okay?”
he’s whispering now, slowly speaking in front of your mouth as to not startle you, hurt you, or break you. simply treating you like he loves you.
you think on it for a fraction of a second, suddenly self conscious of anything you’ve ever done or been in your life.
and then you snapped back into it. satoru’s hand on your side, waiting for direction, while the other one was just underneath your jaw, holding onto your neck like he’d be lost at sea without it tethering you to him.
he was close, patient, and accepting. you figured no matter what the direction was next, he’d be okay with it. he’d listen if you were uncomfortable, if you needed to stop, if you felt self conscious; it all mattered to him in ways unexplainable.
it’s because he did love you. he wasn’t doing these things like he loved you–it’s because already does. a lot, really. an unfathomable amount. it doesn’t matter if you wanted to fuck now or ten years down the line. it would be with you. you’d be together, and the details would just fall into place after that. he was sure of it, and you were just coming around to realizing that now.
“s’okay, satoru,”
he leaned in more to kiss you sweetly, nodding his approval for your consent as he carefully lifted your shirt off. he followed suit shortly after, taking his off with your help in solidarity.
“god, you’re so beautiful”
this was the second time tonight he’s said that, in addition to the heaps of times the words have fallen out before today. it felt different tonight though. satoru could not be looking at you more when he said it. he said it like he was reciting a prayer–if he didn’t say those words it would kill him.
it made you bashful. you found yourself instinctively covering your exposed torso up and looking away.
satoru took your wrists in his hand.
you lean in to kiss him as he stands up to take off his pants, his erection suddenly obvious as his boxers try to contain it. naturally, your eyes point towards it. satoru’s quick to lift your chin to meet his line of sight.
“hey, eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smirks, “you okay?”
you’re at eye-level to his belly button, a soft white line of hair dancing down into his boxers. you hold his waist in your hands, using it to steady yourself as you rise to your feet.
“‘m okay, love, really,”
satoru kneels down to remove your pants and panties, pressing his face to your tummy to be close to you. he peppers a small parade of kisses across your waist as he gently palms your ass in his calloused hand.
he rises up to meet you again, taking your jaw in one of his hands.
“are you still okay with this?”
his genuine care makes you melt a little, finding yourself clenching your thighs together at his sweet remarks for consent.
“mhm, please satoru, ‘m ready”
he leans in once more, kissing you a little feverishly than before, and holding your entire head in his hands as he pulls you closer to mold your body into his.
“sure, baby, just follow my lead,”
#٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ love letters#𓆩♡𓆪 satoru#gojo satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#satoru gojo#satoru smut
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The Loved One (2/2)
[ modern • Aemond x Alys!sister • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, swearing, toxic behaviour and relations, manipulation, therapy ]
[ description: After the events of that night, Alys' sister tries to move on from what happened, proud that she didn't cause a tragedy. However, when it turns out that Alys' boyfriend has broken up with her the next day, her older sister becomes hysterical, and she wonders despairingly whether she was the reason of his decision. Lost, obsessive, distant, desperate Aemond. Anon request. ]
This is Part 2 of The Second One
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
Even though weeks had passed since that bizarre night, she couldn't forget what had happened. It didn't help that the next day her older sister called their mother crying, saying that this shithead had dared to leave her, to walk away after all she had endured for him.
She stared with big eyes at the pancakes lying on the plate in front of her, feeling the cold sweat on her neck and the rapid pounding of her heart, listening to her mother's puzzled questions trying to calm her down, saying in a trembling voice that maybe it would be better this way, that after all they were still fighting.
Alys seemed to have forgotten everything that happened between them and what he had said to her the day before – she felt tears under her eyelids hearing her sobbing, her helpless confession that she loved him and didn't want to live without him.
She felt his hand between her thighs, his tongue deep inside her throat.
She was ashamed that she had barely held back, that she had refused him with difficulty, that some part of her wanted him to stay.
To fuck her.
She swallowed loudly, feeling herself shudder at the memory of the piece of paper he had slipped under her door and what was written on it.
I wish I had met you before her.
She felt a kind of discomfort at the thought of being possessed by some kind of terror and satisfaction, because she was bonded with him by a secret that no one knew about but them.
A moment later, however, she recalled how awful things he had said about Alys, how objectively he had treated her, and that he would have done exactly the same with her if she had not regained her sobriety of mind in time.
She has big tits and a big ass.
She sucks cock well.
She shook her head, feeling that it made her sick to her stomach at the thought, and got up from the table, unable and unwilling to listen to it, recognising that her sister was right.
They were made for each other.
To her despair, Alys came to their house again later that day. She paid no attention to her, directing her despair and pain towards their mother, telling her that he wasn't taking her calls, that he had blocked her number, that he had simply texted her briefly and that was it.
"How could he do this, after so many years. We've been through so much together and he breaks up with me over a fucking text message? Like a fucking kid, no conversation, no explanation?" She heard her mumbling coming from the living room and their mother's voice trying to reassure her – she stood in the dark hallway of their house, eavesdropping involuntarily, thinking with some kind of amusement that it was obvious he had ended it that way.
She shuddered when she heard her name and the fact that her sister had stood up: she ran quickly upstairs, fearing that the subject of their argument and what she had accused him of would now cause her to lash out at her.
True to her intuition, Alys knocked on the door to her room after a while – her mother tried to calm her down but she interrupted her saying that she just wanted to talk, that it was possible she knew of something more.
They stepped inside: her older sister grunted as she tried to quiet herself down, wiping her smudged make-up with her fingers, her face red from tears.
"I'm sorry for his inappropriate behaviour yesterday. He kept staring at you, too sure to get me off balance. Did he bother you after I left?" She asked, putting her hands in front of her, as if this question was a formality for her.
Something in the way she said it, in her conviction that it all revolved around her, that she was asking it not because she was worried about her but because she wanted to prove something to herself made any sympathy and remorse she had felt a moment before disappear.
She told me about you. What an ugly duckling you are. That you don’t know how to dress well, don’t know how to accentuate your figure and your assets. That you hide yourself in big sweatshirts and sit with your nose in books instead of really living and that there’s nothing to talk to you about because you can’t converse about anything interesting.
She recognised that she had acted appropriately – she had cut whatever was going on in time and told him to leave, so she didn't feel the need to admit anything.
"He wanted to talk to me about Gombrowicz, presumably so that I would repeat it to you later and to arouse your jealousy. I told him to leave and that's what he did." She replied softly so that her words were not a complete lie – her sister pressed her lips together, clearly displeased by her statement, her nostrils quivering in uncertainty and rage.
She had no such intention.
"Is that all? He didn't want anything else?" She asked coolly.
She raised her eyebrows and laughed dryly, recognising that for some reason all this amused her – the thought that her little sister about whom she had said such things might have taken away something that belonged to her.
Take him, she thought.
You're both sick.
"Me? Please. I told him clearly not to involve me in your affairs and use me against you." She said indifferently. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that her sister had turned purple – she swallowed loudly as if she was afraid of what she was about to hear.
"What did he say to you?" She asked in a trembling voice forcing herself to be calm, from which she felt a thrill of satisfaction.
"A lot of things. For example, what you say about me. What a caring, good sister you are. How much you worry about me, with what tenderness you think of me." She replied while playing with the pencil lying on her desk, not even looking at her, feeling the awkward silence that had fallen around them.
"I…after all, you know that I would never say anything in bad faith. I get upset with you sometimes, like any sister, I don't understand you, it's true, but I love you, you know that. God, that fucking liar and manipulator!" She growled helplessly, fiddling with her necklace between her fingers in a nervous gesture, looking pleadingly at their mother as if hoping for her support in the matter.
"If he's a liar and a manipulator, why do you want to be with him?" She asked tiredly and impatiently, no longer feeling anything but grief and disapproval.
"That's how we are, both of us…like fire, we argue and come back, it's always been that way." She muttered, and she swallowed hard, thinking with relief that the fact that she had refused him was the wisest decision of her life.
"Do what you want, don't get me involved. Leave." She said dryly, taking a book from her shelf, Trans-Atlantyk by Witold Gombrowicz.
Alys left her room, clearly furious that the conversation hadn't gone according to her plan, that she couldn't go on playing the victim, the one innocent and perpetually abused.
She thought she wanted nothing to do with them.
A few weeks passed and she slowly began to forget about the situation even though Alys couldn't get over it – she knew she was now on some sleeping pills, immersed in utter despair.
She figured that sooner or later she would find someone else – she just prayed that he wouldn't change his mind and come back to her, because she didn't know how she would bear the sight of him in her house.
However, something happened that she had not expected at all.
One evening she received a message from an unknown number.
She opened it and frowned after she read its contents.
Block it and delete it? Threaten him with telling Alys and her mother everything?
She felt her heart start pounding like crazy, a cold sweat on the back of her neck – she covered her mouth with her hand, terrified, wondering where he had got her number, what was she supposed to do now.
She was afraid of what he was capable of, that he might start talking about the fact that she had let him stay with her after all, that something more than a kiss had happened.
She swallowed loudly as she looked at her screen and slowly typed out a reply on her phone's keypad.
She shuddered when, a moment later, her display lit up again and she opened the message from him with her heart beating fast.
She sent it, clenching her eyes, thinking with despair that her answer was too aggressive, that it would surely enrage him, that she would regret all that had happened, her stupid moment of weakness.
She looked at what he'd written without knowing for herself what she felt, her throat squeezed so tightly that she had trouble breathing. She jumped when the messages began to appear one after another.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, angry at herself for letting him do this to her, telling her what she wanted to hear, putting himself in the role of a disappointed and disillusioned man who needed comforting.
She read everything he wrote with an expression of disbelief, completely shocked by this sudden externalisation. She felt her heart squeeze, her body trembling in horror at the fact that he was trying to play with her again, unwittingly giving her what she wanted.
He knew she longed to be appreciated, to be important to someone, to be the only one, to do something her sister had failed to do.
To fix him.
He was giving her himself on a plate, distraught, seeking comfort and refuge, an opportunity for her to prove herself, to show to herself that she was better, more tender, smarter than her sister.
She felt tears of helplessness and humiliation gathering at the corners of her eyes, and swallowed loudly, typing out a message on her phone.
She sent the message and breathed out loud, covering her face with her hands, wondering in pain why he was doing this to her, why he was being so cruel.
Did he want to prove something to himself, to stab her sister in the back with her help?
She shuddered when she heard her phone vibrate and unlocked it quickly, her lips dry with stress.
She didn't know why she burst into sobs after reading his message, why she felt so sad, embittered and humiliated.
I wish I had met you before her.
Why was he doing this to her?
Why was he messing with her head?
For some reason, because of everything she had read, she felt even worse, the pain that ripped through her heart seemed unbearable.
Some part of her wanted to believe him.
She had trouble sleeping, going back to what he had written again and again, once wanting to block him, then immediately deciding that there was no need, that he had clearly given her peace.
She knew she should forget about him, but she couldn't.
Therefore, she tried to concentrate on her studies. Her classes filling her entire days – she even took extra lessons, wanting to be away from home in the evenings as well.
Walking through the large, neo-Gothic hall, she came across a poster hanging on the notice board, announcing open lectures taking place every week on Thursday at 7pm, on the works of Orwell, Kafka, Dostoyevsky and Gombrowicz, entitled 'The Fall of the World'.
She thought the whole thing sounded extremely tempting, and as she loved all these writers, she decided to attend at least once.
The lecture was held in a library that anyone could enter to make things easier for outside listeners – when she went inside most of the seats at the tables were already taken.
She stopped in mid-step, wanting to back away, but it was too late; the tall, well-built figure of a blond-haired man sitting in one of the chairs turned towards her involuntarily, his gaze expressing shock.
"Miss Rivers, welcome! Please, take a seat." Professor Moore, the same one who had lectured to her year on twentieth-century world literature, spoke to her.
She nodded, horrified that it would be at least odd if she left now, so she sat down in one of the empty seats trying not to look at the sinister, inscrutable man sitting a few seats away.
She felt ashamed that some part of her was glad to see him, as if she hoped to meet him again.
"Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four is an extremely heavy read, filled with metaphors, and yet, the author foretold something in it, perfectly describing what communism led to, the fear of surveillance and propaganda, the feeling that everyone is an informer, that no one can be trusted, can be observed in a large part of contemporary Russian citizens. Cut off from non-state information sources, from certain parts of the internet, they live in the conviction that their country cares about them, that the security services are following them and spying on them for their own good. Some even firmly believe that this is for the best. Don't you think it's frightening that something Orwell predicted actually happened, on top of it earlier than he thought?" Asked her professor – she raised her hand, recognising that if she allowed herself to be drawn into the discussion, she would stop thinking about the man who sat a few chairs away.
He let her speak with a nod.
"Orwell wrote this book in 1945, already knowing what Nazism and Communism were. He did not understand how Western Europe could have agreed to recognise Stalin as one of the victors and lead, as a result, to the so-called Iron Curtain in later years. This book was his warning, his sense that we had crossed some line of dehumanisation after Auschwitz that had never happened before in the world." She said on one exhale, a second person, an older man also raised his hand.
"He may have known, but he also felt under his skin that it would not end with communism and Nazism. And he was right. The place of these groupings is being taken by others, just as threatening, also talking about the rights of the nation or the equality of all. We forget that Hitler and Lenin also originally floated on fine words." Said the man, several people nodded their heads in agreement. She shuddered when she heard another voice, familiar to her, speak up without permission, impatient.
"Orwell was not an idiot. If he had wanted to deal with the problem of the rise of political sects, he would have started with that, but he places the plot in the course of events when the state is completely subordinated to the apparatus of power. We hope for a happy ending, a complete victory, but Orwell recognises that there was no such thing after the Second World War. Nuremberg held Germany to account, but not Russia or Japan. Nowadays we don't even talk about their crimes – we delight in their culture and history forgetting whose side they were on, often committing far worse crimes than Hitler."
He glanced at her, as if to see how she would react to his words, to his voice, and momentarily dropped his gaze, as if embarrassed, caught off guard.
He said coldly.
She was surprised by how accurate this observation was.
She looked at him involuntarily – he was sitting with his profile to her, his jaw clenched, the fingers of his hand stretched out on the tabletop moving restlessly, playing with the pen that lay before him.
"Each of these three comments is exceptionally apt. The anxiety that Orwell arouses accompanies us in our daily lives right up to the present day, and somehow he has managed to create a vision of a universal totalitarian system that suits every one that has been mentioned. Let us now turn to the specific chapters…"
They passed the rest of the lecture discussing whether there really was any resistance movement at all, or whether it was just a contrived idea used to catch would-be rebels and break their will even before they could really stand up to anyone.
Somehow the conversation about the book had put her in a depressed, gloomy state; when the professor thanked them and said they were seeing each other next week she wasn't sure she'd come a second time.
Even more so if she was to see him during them.
They were open lectures and he had a right to be there, but she was already tired.
She heard his footsteps behind her and knew it was him when she felt his large hand grab her gently by her arm.
"Wait. I'm sorry. I really didn't know you were coming −"
"− I know. You have nothing to apologise for." She said softly, wanting to pull away from him, but he didn't let her go – even though she wasn't looking at him she could feel his burning gaze, his heat, his raspy breath on her cheek.
"− I don't know yet −" She replied in a shaky, tired voice, feeling that her heart was pounding like crazy. For some reason she felt tears burning under her eyelids – at the same time she wanted him to give her peace and not to do it, something in his darkness, in his unpredictability attracted her.
"− promise you'll come next week − that you won't give up because of me −" He said in a low voice.
She felt embarrassment and a squeeze in her throat at the thought that she wasn't sure if he meant that he didn't want her to give up her interests because of him, or that he was hoping to see her again.
She thought with despair that perhaps it was the same thing that kept Alys from forgetting him.
He grunted and let her go, clearly sensing that he had held her for too long, an awkward silence full of tension fell between them.
"I'm not going to lie. I was hoping to see you here." He murmured lowly, lowering his gaze, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers, the black turtleneck he wore perfectly framing his well-built, broad chest.
She pressed her lips together at his words, adjusting the straps of her backpack hanging over her shoulders in an involuntary, nervous gesture, unsure what she was supposed to respond to such a confession, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that for some reason he didn't want to forget her.
"Why are you doing this? What else do you want from me?" She asked embittered, looking up at him at last – he lifted his gaze to her, fear, desperation and shame in his eyes.
He swallowed loudly, as if he didn't know what he should answer, looking at her in silence.
"I missed you." He muttered quietly, embarrassed like a small child. She shook her head, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.
"What?"
"I missed you. The way I felt back then."
"For God's sake, we only spoke once, what do you miss? The adrenaline that was bubbling inside you at the thought that maybe I'd be naive enough to let you fuck me? I let you into my room, into my life only for you to humiliate me. You are a cruel man."
She mumbled out while bursting into a loud, uncontrollable sob, covering her face with her hand. She heard in disbelief that his reaction to her words was identical – he embraced her and pulled her close, hugging her to his chest and although she wanted to push him away, she couldn't.
"− I didn't mean to hurt you − I swear, I really just wanted to talk, I couldn't sleep, I was angry − what happened next −" He mumbled out, his voice stuck in his throat – he drew in a sudden, shaky breath of air, swallowing loudly.
"− I just − I don't know, I have no idea what came over me, I never cheated on her, I swear − I swear −" He babbled, both of them crying loudly, her hands rose higher and tightened on his back – she felt both pain and relief at the thought that he was as embarrassed and heartbroken as she was.
"− can we start again? − as if we had never met? −" He asked pleadingly and she, not knowing why, nodded, thinking she wanted to leave it all far, far behind.
Although they both calmed down after a moment, they still lingered in each other's embrace – a pleasant shiver ran down her spine as she felt his large hand stroke her hair and back with a calm gesture full of care, her face snuggled into his warm chest, her nostrils filled with his masculine scent.
She shuddered and swallowed loudly as his lips placed a drawn-out, hot kiss on the top of her head, her breath caught in her throat when she felt something pulsate hard in his trousers.
They pulled away from each other, wiping their faces, both pretending nothing had happened – he breathed out loud, combing his hair in a light, careless gesture, his cheeks red with emotion.
"− see you −" He muttered, and although she knew she shouldn't, she showed up for the next lecture.
And then the next and the next.
Each time he sat down next to her, close, too close, his legs splayed comfortably making his knee pressed against hers, but she didn't move away, herself getting something out of the situation that she couldn't name.
Her sister had told her mother on the phone that she had moved on, that she wasn't going to trouble herself with this bastard, told her about their endless arguments, about how he would raise his voice and throw things, leave in the middle of a conversation slamming the door, about how he always acted like a spoilt little child when he didn't get what he wanted.
She knew that she was leaving out of these arguments what she herself had said and done in an obvious attempt to create a narrative of his one-sided aggression, however, despite being malicious and ironic, she was struck by how completely different his view of the whole thing was.
Sometimes the two of them would buy warm tea from the vending machine and spend spring evenings in the university park sitting on the grass on his leather jacket, just talking – since they had both cried and cuddled he had not tried to touch her or otherwise invade her personal space.
"My family has always been involved in the modeling industry. Big money, big banquets, fashion shows in Paris and Venice. I always despised it, but what could be done? My father expected me and my siblings to take over his inheritance, on top of which his daughter from his first marriage was fighting for a bigger share than she was originally entitled to. It was some kind of nightmare." He muttered, taking a sip of the hot liquid from a small cardboard cup, looking somewhere ahead with a blank stare, the sun was setting behind the beautiful neo-Gothic red brick buildings.
"To be honest, it never interested me. I was into art, but not this half-world. When I met your sister I liked the fact that she was going after what she wanted. Of course, she wasn't the first chick to want to go to bed with me for the obvious benefits, but her impudence was downright endearing in a way. Only later did I realise that it was impudence mixed with calculating. But we were both too proud to let go, to be the weak link."
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders, finally looking at her with the same tired, resigned eyes she had seen for weeks – she couldn't tell if what he was saying and showing her was the truth or just his game.
But who would want to pretend for so long?
He lowered his gaze, scratching his cheek with his thumb, seeing in her eyes that she remained wary of him, that she did not trust him.
She herself didn't know why she had allowed him to spend time together, only to find with sadness that some part of her wanted to understand him.
"I'm afraid you won't be able to undo what's happened inside your head without the help of a professional." She said softly, looking down at the cup she held between her hands on her thighs. She heard him swallow hard – she knew this topic was not comfortable for him.
"If you really do it, I'll go with you." She said quietly, feeling a sense of discomfort, knowing she shouldn't do it, on the other hand realising that her mother had made sure Alys visited the psychiatrist at least a few times, and he needed it just as badly.
"Will you come with me? If I make an appointment." He muttered in a low, hoarse voice. She looked at him in disbelief, feeling a tightness in her throat, once again surprised by his behaviour and his words.
She did not believe that he would do so, recognising that this was part of his plan to soften her up.
Nevertheless, after a few days she received a message from him with the address of the doctor's office and the time of the appointment.
She turned up at the place indicated, lying to her mother that she had gone to the University Library – the office of the man he had mentioned was in fact in the suburbs, and next to the door to the building was a nameplate with his profession.
A few minutes before the time he pulled up in a big, shiny black SUV, dressed in a black tight T-shirt tucked into black trousers, a watch on his wrist – when he got out he looked stressed and unhappy, she knew he really didn't want to do that.
He lit a quick cigarette even though he only had a few minutes left before his visit and she thought he would cowardly tell her that he didn't feel like it after all, that he didn't have to do it, that he was already feeling better.
"Is it really necessary? Externalising myself to some fucking asshole for my money?" He asked coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette with a quiet hiss. She looked at him feeling a squeeze in her chest, tears of regret under her eyelids at the thought that she had spent so much of her time and effort on him only to realise that he was exactly as she had imagined him to be.
"− I'm sorry − thank you, little one − if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have come here at all −" He muttered low, taking a quick drag a few times, extinguishing the remnants of his cigarette on a bin standing nearby, letting the smoke out loudly through his nose.
Seeing the look on her face he swallowed loudly and lowered his gaze to his feet, wiping his forehead with the back of the hand in which he held the cigarette in a nervous gesture.
She had the impression that his body was quivering.
He startled her when he stepped inside, so she moved behind him, both of them heading up the steps past the signs straight into the cabinet. She watched as he sighed heavily and knocked, a middle-aged man who could have been their father opened the door for him after a moment.
"This is my friend I mentioned. I want her to be there when we talk." He said lowly, and she froze, looking at his back in disbelief as he stepped inside, convinced that he just wanted her to wait for him outside.
She lowered her gaze, horrified at the thought that he would be telling him his problems, his most intimate secrets in front of her, but she wasn't sure she could refuse when he had already taken such a big step forward.
The doctor smiled at her and, with a gesture of his hand, encouraged her to go inside, so she did, taking a seat on the other side of the sofa, the doctor sat opposite them.
"Please tell me what brings you to me."
He began – she stared at a flower in a pot standing at the other end of the office, feeling like an intruder, as if she was eavesdropping on someone's conversation and had no idea what she should do with herself.
"I tend to be verbally aggressive. I tend to get involved in toxic relationships with other toxic people and I'm like that myself."
She heard his low voice and swallowed loudly, somehow appreciating his self-criticism, the fact that he saw the problem holistically.
"Let's start with the first sentence. What do you think verbal aggression means?"
"I know what to say to hurt someone. I know it, I do it on purpose and I get satisfaction from it."
"Please say something more about this feeling of satisfaction."
He remained silent for a moment – she heard him shrug his shoulders, impatient.
"The feeling of power."
"What do you feel after that, when the satisfaction passes?"
"Emptiness."
She looked at him uncertainly, fiddling nervously with the fabric of the dress covering her thighs, feeling that her whole body was tense, a cold sweat on her back.
"A lot of people get addicted to adrenaline. Also from arguments, aggression or violent sex. The lack of affection and security is filled with temporary emotions, and their absence causes similar symptoms to alcohol rehab. When you regain control you see yourself and the world as it is."
He remained silent.
Said the doctor. She saw him just nod at his words, swallowing hard, looking at his hands, seeing with horror that he was picking at the cuticles around his nails creating tiny wounds.
"You mentioned that you consider yourself a toxic person and get into a relationship with such people."
"Yes."
"Why do you judge yourself that way?"
The man asked, and he licked his lips in a quick impatient gesture.
"Because I am cruel to other people. Harsh and vicious."
"Please elaborate on that thought."
For the next half hour he talked about examples of his behaviour, how he despised models making a career out of bed, how deep down he loathed her sister and himself, the business he was forced to be stuck in, full of injustice and discrimination.
She listened to it feeling resentful towards him for deceiving her sister for so long, on the other hand hearing for the first time how Alys addressed him, what the beginning of their relationship was like.
"When I gave her what she wanted she was the sweetest, most submissive woman I knew. But if I didn't, she would turn into a screaming, spiteful creature telling me I was a cunt and a little child, so I didn't leave her hanging. What did she expect, that she would call me that and I wouldn't answer anything? That I didn't know she had nothing more to offer me than her body? What pissed me off about her wasn't that she lacked knowledge, it was that there was no curiosity about the world in her, that she didn't want to expand it, to understand more. Just fucking, partying and posing."
"But you still lasted in that relationship because, from what I understand, you were so comfortable. What changed?" The doctor asked, and she flinched as he glanced at her quickly, immediately looking away, swallowing loudly, terrified of what was about to leave his mouth.
"I think that I'm in love with someone."
She drew in air loudly, feeling tears under her eyelids, her whole body breathless – she felt the heat in her lower abdomen, that embarrassing, sticky wetness between her thighs.
She knew she shouldn't, but when he suggested after the visit that she go to his place, she agreed.
There was a kind of despair in the way he pressed her against the wall with a sudden motion as soon as the door closed behind them, the way his slick tongue forced its way between her swollen lips with his groan of relief, the way, with quick and sure movements, his hands slid the material of her underwear off her, which she threw off her legs with an impatient flick.
She knew she shouldn't, but she felt nothing but delight as he knelt in front of her looking at her with wide eyes. He lifted the material of her dress over her thighs, throwing her hip over his shoulder – she tilted her head back with a soft moan as his lips began to brush and kiss her hot, silky, weeping folds.
"− we can't −" She muttered, but she knew she'd only said it to feel a little less regret that it was so pleasurable, that her fingers clenched on his short hair as he cupped her little clit between his lips and began sucking on it, teasing her pulsing opening with the tip of his tongue again and again.
"− fuck − fuck −" She whimpered girlishly, rolling her hips involuntarily in rhythm with his strokes – a loud murmur of delight erupted from his throat at how much she was leaking, the sound of it running in vibration through her entire body.
"− I could spend all day like this − would you like it? −" He gasped between teasing motions of his tongue pushing its way between her sticky muscles, hot with arousal, a moan bordering on a cry broke from her throat as he began to tease the spongy spot hidden inside her from which his whole corridor seemed blurred to her.
"− stop −" She mumbled helplessly, panting loudly along with him, feeling his words deep inside her – her walls began to clench around nothing. He only grunted at her plea, stopping abruptly, rising from his knees: she settled again on both feet, feeling that her legs were trembling all over.
"− you can leave now, if you want − I won't stop you −" He breathed out, with a quick, sure movement of his fingers undoing the buckle from the belt of his trousers – she looked at him with her eyes wide open, feeling in her mind only that wonderful heat between her thighs.
"− be gentle − be gentle and don't mock me −" She muttered, and he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her close, their lips pressed together in an aggressive, sticky, loud kiss.
She squealed quietly as he lifted her easily, in an involuntary reflex she threw her arms around his neck, enclosing his waist between her legs, his moist mouth smelling of her wetness not pulling away for a moment as his one hand dealt with the material of his trousers and boxers.
The tips of his fingers ran over her cheek, his forehead pressed against hers as she felt the fat head of his cock push in between her weeping folds – they both moaned low, surprised, as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her thigh, forcing her to fit his long, thick erection deeper inside her.
"− fuck −" She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider – he looked down at her with eyes black with desire, his lips parted in a pathetic groan as her leaking walls let him all the way in.
"− god, little one − oh fuck −" He mumbled out with involuntary stabs of his hips thrusting into her as deeply as possible – they both moaned into each other's mouths as his lips pressed against hers again, her hands ran over his hair and down the nape of his neck, answered by his loud murmur of pleasure.
"− I've waited so long for this − you were already wet for me then, weren't you? − you wanted it inside you −" He breathed out, speeding up his pace, each push of his swollen cock teasing again and again the same spot he had squeezed with his tongue earlier, only a helpless moan of pleasure escaping from her chest, their bodies slapping against each other with a loud clicks of her moisture.
"− please − please, please, please −" She babbled between licks of their tongues and lips, his large hands clamped down on her ass, accelerating, the stabs of his hips opening her wide on his length again and again, her walls pulsing against him, sucking him inside.
"− oh, yes, that's it − gonna cum, baby? − gonna cum for me? −" He cooed slammed into her with his cock pulsing with lust. She nodded her head clenching her fingers in his hair, panting hard, and leaned back with a sweet moan as her body shook with convulsions, her walls began to throb and clench against him in pleasure.
"− god, yes − little one − where −" He muttered, and she only managed to whimper for him to come inside her, thanking God for the existence of the pills. She heard his low groan of relief and pleasure, a few messy, greedy thrusts of his hips were enough to make him spill inside her, their bodies twitching and quivering, shocked at how intense this close-up was.
For a long moment they both merely panted and kissed lazily, his hands running over the bare, hot skin of her buttocks, her fingers stroking his hair with his quiet murmur of pleasure.
"− so good − so kind − so pretty −" He hummed between their kisses, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with his thumb, shame overwhelmed her at the thought that she felt butterflies in her stomach at his words.
She knew she shouldn't do this, but she let him take her once more on his bed, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again with each desperate thrust of his hips, their naked bodies entwined together in a tight embrace, sweaty and hot.
"− fuck − fuck −" He panted into her mouth between greedy, messy, loud kisses, his wonderful scent filling her entire lungs, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, her fingers digging into the bare skin of his back.
"− mghm − m close −" She mumbled out, her walls oversensitive after her earlier fulfilment, the tip of his swollen cock rubbing again and again the spot inside her from which she felt shivers and tickling, the heat in her lower abdomen unbearable.
"− come on, little one − give me one more − that's it, fuck! −" He gasped loudly and bit his lower lip, trying to stifle the low groan of pleasure that ripped from his throat as her fleshy muscles began to throb in orgasm, sucking him inside.
She tried to push him away, delicate and sore, quivering and writhing beneath him, but he accelerated, slamming into her for a moment more with sure, deep thrusts.
"− I know, baby, just a moment longer − shhh −" He mumbled out before he reached his peak inside her for the second time, a soft, loud sigh of relief and delight escaping his lips.
He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her hair, panting heavily along with her, their skin sticky from sweat and exertion, their hands trailing blindly over their naked bodies, wanting to remember and take everything possible from this moment.
"− stay with me, little one − please, stay with me −" He whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion, with the feeling that she was going to try again to escape him, what he wanted and what it all meant.
She swallowed quietly and combed her fingers through his hair, looking up at the ceiling with slightly parted lips, breathing loudly, her body at once relaxed from another fulfilment and tense, filled with uncertainty and fear.
He could feel her hesitation – when he heard no response from her he lifted himself slowly on his arms, wanting to look at her face.
"− do you know what the real tragedy of this situation is? − that some part of me reciprocates your feelings − but I don't know how I could ever really trust you −" She whispered in a calm, low tone, feeling a lone tear of regret flow from the corner of her eye onto the pillow under her head smelling of his perfume, the adrenaline and endorphin stopped bubbling through her body, leaving only an emptiness inside her.
"− what I told that doctor is true − I want to change − want to be a person worth loving − I know I screwed up then −" He whispered, stroking her cheek with his large hand – she looked away, feeling her own body tremble, his thumb ran over her soft skin.
She felt him looking at her, completely unsure of what to say, his soft manhood still deep inside her.
He slipped out of her gently after a moment, standing up without a word, grabbing his trousers which were lying on the floor, standing with his back to her, putting them on, not even giving her a single glance.
She stood up too, clenching her lips so tightly that she felt like they were purple, her throat twitching all over in a sob that she didn't let escape, but she couldn't hold back the tears of horror, shame and disappointment that flooded her face.
She didn't look at him when she left, when she ran down the stairs and simply left the building, moving in front of her, trying to think soberly where she was and what bus stop she should go to in order to get home.
She heard a vibration in her backpack after a while, her phone ringing and ringing, but she didn't even take it out, not knowing what else they were going to say to each other.
It was obvious that he had never respected or taken her sister seriously, and while it was obvious that she wanted him, she couldn't believe that the depth of his feelings were actually that great.
She felt that he had talked himself into this feeling, mythologised it and also her character, creating in his mind a tragic story of two lovers who had always been destined for each other, to further distance himself in his mind and mock her sister's personality.
She arrived home pale but refrained from crying in front of her parents – she explained that she felt sick and would go to bed early.
However, not half an hour passed and she heard the screech of tyres on her driveway – she got up to the window and took a few steps backwards, startled to recognise his car, her throat squeezed so tight with fear that she felt like she was going to vomit.
She ran quickly downstairs hearing raised voices, his, her father's and her mother's, her mother clearly outraged at the sight of him and his insolence.
Will he tell them everything?
Will he humiliate her in front of her parents, entertain himself at her expense now?
Will he take revenge?
"How dare you show up here after all this? Have you no shame?"
"Did your younger daughter get home safely?"
"It is none of your business, young man, you are to leave our house immediately!"
Said her mother, enraged and heartbroken, her father threatened to call the police on him, but he lifted his gaze hearing her footsteps and spotted her on the half-floor standing on the stairs.
Something changed in his gaze – she saw that he swallowed hard, in his eyes pain, fatigue, regret and something else from which she ran out of breath.
"Thank you. I've already found out what I wanted." He said lowly, turning and simply walking away, closing the door behind him – her parents looked at her in disbelief, they heard the sound of the engine firing up.
"What did he mean? Why was he asking about you?" Asked her father, and she looked at them with her eyes wide open not knowing what to say.
Did he come just to check that she got home safely?
"After all, this man is unpredictable, look what he did to Alys. He's made her dependent on him, like a parasite he's put the idea in her mind that she won't be able to live without him."
"He goes to therapy. He asked me to go with him. He didn't want to be there alone." She told only part of the truth with shame, having no strength to pretend any longer. Her mother froze, looking quickly at her father and then back at her, her eyebrows arched in disbelief.
"And she did the same thing to him."
"What?"
"Alys was doing the same thing to him. He was showing me messages from her, mum. Sent from her number. That's why I went with him." She mumbled out and burst into sobs again, covering her face with her hand, her pain and regret finding an escape at last.
Her mother seeing her condition moved towards her and hugged her, in her embrace some kind of understanding – her father looked up at her from below with his hands placed on his hips and sighed heavily, shaking his head.
"Alys can't know."
For the next few days neither he nor she made contact. Some part of her was grateful to him for not pressuring her, for letting her put it all together in her head.
She herself did not know what she felt.
On the one hand, caution prevailed in her in his presence – she had the feeling that she was still waiting for some blow from him, an unexpected hit that would break her and prove to herself that he had been playing with her all this time for his own entertainment.
But then she remembered their conversation in the university courtyard, what he had said at the psychiatrist's.
I think that I'm in love with someone.
She read their long exchanges about poets, writers, but also about their thoughts and their lives, trying to find any trace of a lie or manipulation in them, but was pained to find that, although it may have been due to a lack of distance, she did not find it.
She no longer knew what was truth and what was a lie.
The last extra classes of the semester were open lectures she was attending with him – she knew they would be discussing Trans-Atlantyk and she thought maybe that was a sign.
She reasoned that if he didn't turn up it would mean that he had given up, that he had been disappointed with her and got bored and that she could move on at last.
She had arrived earlier than usual, wanting to borrow some books from the library for the holidays. Standing at one of the bookcases she spotted him from a distance sitting alone at a table, bent over a thick volume – even though it was still half an hour to class he was sitting in the same seat as always.
She felt the heat fill her body, her heart began to pound like crazy due to some incomprehensible joy at the sight of him.
She moved towards him with several tomes in her hands and sat down next to him – they did not greet each other, however, she felt his gaze on her, his warm breath on her skin.
She turned her face towards him and noticed that his healthy eye was all red, his lower lip trembling, as if he didn't believe she would come, that he would ever see her again.
Something in that sight, in the tear that ran down his cheek made her lay her head on his shoulder, snuggling her nose into his neck – she heard him draw in air greedily, his hand rose quickly and touched her cheek, his fingers twitching, stroking her soft skin with a gentle, tender motion.
She put her hands around his arm and stayed like that, feeling strangely calm and safe – she felt him place his cheek on the top of her head, she could hear his broken, heavy breath, his lips placing a tender kiss on her hair once in a while.
She turned her face towards him, heard only his quiet, low sigh as their fleshy lips found each other in a sticky, hot, wet kisses, his large hand holding her face in place, not allowing her to move away.
She pulled away from him at last, stroking his well-defined jaw with her thumb, his gaze dark and hot, his lips swollen and red from their caress.
She returned to her earlier position without a word, sinking her face into the hollow of his neck, embracing his arm with her hands – he breathed quietly, sliding it out of her grasp, enveloping her waist with it, pulling her close so that she could hug his chest.
The tips of his fingers traveled down her back as he took the book that lay in front of him from the table top and placed it on his thighs, clearly wanting to simultaneously read on and cover up whatever was going on in his trousers.
They stayed like this until the class began when they finally pulled away from each other – his hand quickly found hers under the table, stroking the top of it with his thumb.
Though doubts still filled her heart, for the first time in years she felt hope.
_____
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