#Contour Cherry

[astraystayyh]

Breathe

hyunjin x photographer!reader. friends to lovers with so so much tension and pining. hyunjin is too pretty (yet again). suggestive in the end and reader is wearing a dress. inspired by Bathtub hyunjin.

thank you hyunjin yet again for being my eternal muse and inspiring this brainrot. wrote this while listening to All mine by plaza so.. please enjoy <333 feedback is highly appreciated 🫶🏻

Is it possible to drown in the depths of your emotions, until breathing becomes a forgotten process, one that eludes each one of your senses?

Yes, you believe, if standing before a vision of ethereal beauty, as you are now, all encapsulated within Hwang Hyunjin’s being.

The camera slightly shakes in your grasp as you linger by the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing Hyunjin’s silhouette submerged in the waters. He’s sitting inside the bathtub, fingers running through his raven locks, awaiting your return.

He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, nor do you wish him to. Instead, you remain silent by the door, allowing yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating aura he exudes.

See, he isn’t doing anything particular, nor is he adorned in anything enticing— a simple white shirt and matching linen pants. And yet, his presence fills the air, compelling oxygen particles to flee from your being, leaving you transfixed, unable to do anything but gaze at him.

“I can feel you staring,” he remarks casually, his eyes still drawn before him as he leans back, tapping the edge of the tub with his ring-clad fingers.

Your heart pulses against your ribs, a dance that the organ knows intimately by now, one that Hyunjin alone can orchestrate. It isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, it is a familiar territory you first breached when Minho introduced you to him.

Hyunjin is a friend, but his hands find your waist more times than deemed platonic, and you like his touch much more than you’d like to admit.

“I'm assessing my subject, you know?” A faint grin dances upon your lips as you approach the bathtub. Hyunjin is doing you a favor— you just booked your first photography gig, and your client only has one condition: to shoot it in a bathtub. You wanted to translate your vision to life beforehand, and Hyunjin volunteered to help you.

“And how do I look?” he inquires, his smile a sugary dream that coaxes forth his left dimple. You place your camera gently on the countertop, bending down to inspect him up close.

His eyelids glisten with the golden glitter you delicately applied earlier. His skin is dewy, glistening underneath the warm lightning, and his lips drip crimson, courtesy of the cherry chapstick you carefully tapped into place.

There is always a myriad of visions that come to your mind when you think of Hyunjin— a blazing fire where each flame surges higher towards the heavens, a burning dance of passion and confidence; or a delicate red rose standing resilient in an empty field, vulnerable yet unwavering in its strength.

And now, you see a siren, beckoning mortals with a voice of beauty, ensnaring them with its hypnotic allure, much like he captivates you in this moment.

“You look nice,” you settle on saying, and he playfully pouts, his thumb grazing against your wrist lightly, akin to the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wing. “That's it? You never compliment me properly.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your ego in check,” you shrug, grabbing a dozen of roses and scattering them all around his body. You nod, satisfied with the outcome, finally retrieving your camera.

“Let's start with a simple shot, look at the camera, as you would when seducing someone.”

Instead of looking at the lens, Hyunjin's gaze finds yours first. With a deliberate slowness, his eyes trace the contours of your form, sending delicious shivers down your spine. His pupils dilate, his gaze darkens, before he reluctantly tears his eyes away, finally shifting his focus to the camera.

it takes you a few beats longer to find your voice once again.

“Hold still, one… two… three,” you murmur, capturing a few shots, pausing for a few seconds to admire the warmth of the light bouncing off his honeyed skin. “Perfect.”

“Me or the picture?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you roll yours in response.

“The photographer.”

“You’re right, you're perfect,” he replies simply, and you're momentarily taken aback, your eyes widening slightly. He notices, a small smile playing on his lips as you grab his hand to adjust his pose.

“You aren't allowed to speak anymore,” you declare, guiding his index finger to his lips while his head rests on his other curled fist. He grins, before his expression morphs into a smoldering gaze, one that blankets your skin in hues of red from its sheer intensity.

“Look at me this time,” you instruct, and he nods obediently, directing his gaze towards you. Though your eyes remain fixed on the lens, you can sense the intensity of his gaze piercing through you—suddenly, the white dress you're wearing feels too sheer to contain the flames ignited by his stare.

“Mm,” you hum in approval as you look at the result. A sweet realization washes over you as you notice the subtle shift in his gaze— does he know his eyes unconsciously soften when they land on you?

With each click of the camera, your nerves dissipate, replaced by a growing confidence as each shot turns out exquisitely. They look worthy of gracing billboards worldwide, a privilege of working with a model as beautiful as him, one who portrays emotions as if they were crafted solely for him to feel.

“Good, let's try an overhead shot now,” you instruct, slinging the camera strap around your neck before climbing into the bathtub, legs on either side of his body. You’re hovering over him as he gazes up at you, his fluttering eyelashes echoing the erratic beat of your heart.

Your eyes briefly trace the contours of his now-translucent white shirt, a veil that delicately clings to his form, accentuating the sculpted lines of his physique—the arc of his v-line melding seamlessly into the fabric of his trousers. He possesses the body of a masterful dancer, a muse Michelangelo himself would have revered.

“Take off your shirt,” you suddenly request, and though your words are met with a quirked eyebrow, he obliges effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he peels the garment from his frame, sending it sailing across the bathroom's expanse.

“Good?” he questions but you remain silent because words have suddenly become beyond your grasp. Your client's request for a portrait suddenly feels inadequate and you almost itch to cancel it, because you know it won't exude the same beauty as Hyunjin’s. For each fiber of his being flusters you, makes you hyper aware of your every pulse point and how they all come together to chant Hyunjin’s name.

“Look up at me as you lean back,” you finally say, positioning the camera directly above his head. With each click, your heartbeat speeds up even more at the sight— collarbones and arms bathed in the play of light and shadow, his long, wet hair cascading over broad shoulders, and worse of all, a faint smirk that graces his placid face, as if he's aware of how breathtaking he looks in this moment.

“Should I do this?” he asks, picking up a rose and brushing its dewy petals against his lips. You swallow hard, nodding meekly before swiftly capturing a few more frames.

Emotions twist you into a peculiar being, yearning for your very soul to liquefy, transforming into the water droplets adorning the rose's petals, longing to caress Hyunjin’s lips too.

Hyunjin suddenly straightens his posture, hands coming to rest gently on your calves, fingers dancing along the hems of your dress with a delicate touch.

“How’d I do? Do I look good for you?” he asks and your knees weaken beneath you, his words rendering you a merciless leaf, swayed by the fiery winds he commands, with his words, with his touch, with his eyes, all solely on you.

“For me?” you echo, and he nods, his hand moving languidly up and down your leg, pausing delicately at your knee.

“Mm. You're the only one I want to impress.”

Your response escapes your being breathlessly. “And why is that?”

“Didn't you ask me not to speak?” he grins, running a hand through his hair. Swiftly, you place your camera on the counter before kneeling down, your thighs now brushing against his own.

“Speak,” you command, and in an instant, he seizes your waist, drawing your body close until you're straddling him, legs enveloping his middle.

“Say it again,” he whispers, and you thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, gently tugging at the edges until his head tilts back, exposing the expanse of his neck.

“I said…” you trail off, leaning in until your nose grazes the warmth of his skin.

Being this close to Hyunjin isn't unfamiliar to you; your interactions have always teetered on the brink of almost-kisses, your bodies drawn together like magnets, two halves of an orange yearning to reunite.

Yet, this moment feels different, much more fateful, as if the universe has granted you one final opportunity—to finally ignite in passion or perish into ash.

“Tell me. I want to know,” you urge, your voice a whisper against his skin, laden with unspoken desires.

“Because... I like you a lot. So much that you're the only one I think of all day. And I want you to like me too. I feel like I need it to breathe.”

His response catches you off guard with its vulnerability, the intimacy it drapes on this moment. The water envelops your intertwined bodies as your hands find solace atop his chest, his rapid heartbeat seeping into your palm.

“I always forget how to breathe around you,” you confess, a sheepish smile gracing your lips. The grin that blooms on his face is radiant, casting a glow on the room that cannot be replicated by artificial lighting.

“If you forget how to breathe, I'll give you all my oxygen,” he promises, his thumb tracing gently across your cheekbones. You see the sun in his smile, feel its warmth in his words that burn you. “I think it always belonged to you anyway,” he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “I think... I wanna give you back what's yours. Would you let me, pretty?” he asks, his voice a tender plea.

And amidst all the planets you know and the countless universes that may exist, you cannot fathom a single one where your answer would be anything but yes.

“Please,” you whisper, and his lips crash against yours in a fervent dance.

Your lips part before swiftly meeting again, and you close your eyes, surrendering to a world where all your senses converge to breathe Hyunjin in—your hands exploring the contours of his chest, your mouth savoring the sweetness of his lips infused with your cherry chapstick, your nose inhaling his scent, a delicate blend of vanilla and tobacco pulling you into a dizzying dance, your ears catching the gentle rhythm of his breaths and the faint thud of his heartbeat, all resonating within you.

And you don't need your eyes to see Hyunjin; he's indelibly etched behind your eyelids from all the time you've spent admiring him before.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he draws back, “I should have kissed you much sooner.”

“Mm?” you grin, intertwining your hands behind his neck, “Was it that good?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“Then show me,” you grin, a playful glint in your eyes.

His gaze sparkles with mischief, his lips curling into a self-assured smirk, his hands finding your waist once more. Breathing is not necessary if it gives you Hyunjin in the end.

“Oh, I will.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

”why are you so good at that?”

his caress is gentle. tender, steady, secure; and practiced, you can tell, just from the instant relief you feel — the vivid care in how his fingertips smooth along your skin. 

suguru presses his thumbs into the bridge of your nose, right beneath your forehead, big palms cupping your face. they’re warm, calloused, but still somehow so soft — massaging you gently. the pads of his fingers trail upwards, rubbing soothing little circles against your temples. as if he’s memorized every patch of skin, seen the very inside of your skull. as if he knows exactly where to apply pressure to make the sharp jolts of pain go away. 

and it’s working. the room you’re in is dimly lit, illuminated only by the vermilion rays of the setting sun, bleeding in through the gap between the opened shoji screens. a faint, summery scent accompanies them; like burnt roses, or a salty ocean breeze, not enough to rouse the nausea in your throat. it’s quiet. all you can hear is the soft humming of your lover, and your own relieved breaths, pulled out by his skillful hands. his pointer fingers pinch between your brows, and another one follows. the sweetest little sigh. 

”am i?” his voice is soft, even more so than usual, as if the slightest noise could disrupt your peace. a smile is knit between the vowels. ”i’m glad.”

he sounds a little tired. it’s been a long day for both of you, so it’s no surprise. when you finally got back home, the inside of your skull was tormented by a persistent ache, and suguru was blinking with fatigue — though he still insisted on doing this. lying you down on his lap, like a fragile doll, crossing his legs to give you enough space to rest comfortably; the back of your head finding respite on his thigh, senses enveloped by the silk of his robes, smelling lightly of cherry blossoms and sandalwood. comfy.

and, after only a couple minutes of his loving treatment, the ache began to dull. sweet relief seeping into your nerves.

he reminds you to take deep breaths, watching intently as the contours of your face fall back into a state of tranquility. whenever he shifts, the tatami mats beneath him rustle, and your muddled mind sways like the rocking of a boat; slight, but still enough to coax a wince from out your throat, a tiny spark of pain blooming between your sinuses, followed by a murmured apology from the man above you. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. you hear it, eyes still shut, waiting for him to answer your question. and he does, of course — so weak to you, always, your voice the key to his locked-up heart.

”back in high school…” he starts, diligently continuing the facial massage, comforting circles rubbed into your skin. ”... my best friend got migraines often.” 

a soft groan slips from out your parted lips, when he pushes against a certain spot — locating the pressure points like brushing specks of dust from off his clothing. effortless. 

”ah,” you click your tongue, melting into his touch. turning into a boneless puddle, cradled in his lap, comfy as can be. ”your mysterious bestie, huh?”

it’s not the first you’ve heard of this best friend. suguru’s mentioned him before, though only in passing, in whispers, comments he hopes will sound absentminded. they never do — because suguru says the word friend like it’s a prayer. 

(that explains it, though. no wonder it feels so good; it is practiced. should you feel jealous?

well, maybe. but you mostly think it’s kind of sweet.)

before you can think of what you’re saying, the words have left your lips. they tumble out like little pizzicato drops, spoken casually, matter-of-factly. a tiny chirp of a thing.

”you must have loved him a lot.”

…

silence.

for just a moment, the thumbs pressing against your skin halt — just for a second, but enough to notice, and suddenly you feel a little like the air has been sucked out of the room.

even with your eyes closed, you know suguru’s smile is nowhere to be seen. 

it’s funny, how well you’ve come to know him. how you’ve learned to memorize every expression you’ve ever seen him make, any signs of distress or discomfort. he does this thing with his eyes, sometimes — a thin kind of concealment, when you shuffle a little too close for his comfort. figuratively speaking, because you’re almost certain he’d let you crawl under his skin if you asked. but sometimes you twist the key to his heart a little too abruptly, and his eyes of gold and ochre shift in the light, honey clogging the interior of his cornea. something sickly-sweet. something he’s kept locked up for a long time.

a nostalgia so palpable it breaks your heart just to look at it.

you don’t want to open your eyes. you don’t want to see the kind of face he’s making right now. you don’t want to know if he’s pursing his lips, or furrowing his brows, just because of your carelessly chosen words — you know his old best friend is a sensitive subject. gosh, you’re stupid. 

stupid, stupid, stupid.

(why can’t you ever just read the room?)

blindly, you stumble for something to say, parting your lips. desperate to change the topic, to save him from this suffocating silence.

— but then suguru breaks it.

”yeah.”

when your eyes flutter open, he’s looking out into the garden. watching the sun, as it sinks beneath the mountains, lips curved up into a small smile.

”i suppose i did.”

…

you take a moment to look at him. the bridge of his nose, the firm lines of his jaw — the slightest tremble of the muscle. and those eyes, set afire by the final rays of the setting sun, burned to ash. filled with… something. not regret.

just longing.

suddenly, the pads of his fingers are dancing along your skin again; gliding down to pinch your nose. it makes you yelp, a tiny squeak.

and then he’s looking at you. 

”but i love you more,” he croons, a little tilt of his head that make his bangs move like a black curtain. eyes swirling with humour, something syrupy and teasing, awfully fond. ”my little dove.”

before you know it, your cheeks are blossoming with warmth; the branches of your lips curling up into a shy smile. his attention is a little too much to bear, so you wriggle out of his grasp — turning around to press your face into his stomach. his sleeves cast a curtain around you, a protective veil, but it’s not long until you’re being coaxed back into your original position.

”ah ah,” he tuts, chiding you lovingly; a coo in the back of his throat. ”none of that. let me take care of you.”

all you can do is groan, meekly, squeezing your eyes shut. suguru only chuckles, cupping your cheeks and continuing to apply pressure on your forehead and nose, large warm palms against your chilled skin — unwilling to let you escape his pampering.

the sun sets eventually. but he keeps you on his lap until the headache has faded entirely, until your eyelids have dragged you into a deep slumber, until tiny snores are seeping from your parted lips. until the moon has pulled itself into the night sky above you.

somehow, even on the brink of exhaustion, you manage to feel his warm lips against your forehead; hear the muffled murmur against your skin.

”sweet dreams, my darling,” comes a whisper, deep and silky, coaxing you further into the cradle of sleep. his thumb smooths along your cheekbone, down to the curve of your jaw — a trail of warmth. ”come back to me soon, won’t you?”

he smiles. you feel it, that soft upward curve, a blissed out sensation drowning you in white noise. the space inside your mind is free of pain, filled only with thoughts of him, the lines of his fingers burning patterns into your skin. one final kiss pressed between your brows, and then he’s pulling away; curling his arms under your knees and hoisting you up. into his steady arms, his robes shielding you from the soft glow of the stars.

”… don’t dawdle in dreamland for too long.”

the whisper goes unheard. fast asleep, suguru can only gaze at you, drinking in the serenity on your features. trying not to remember a boy with blue eyes — the similar expression he wore once his migraines had begun to fade.

he shakes his head, and carries you towards the bedroom. safe and sound in his embrace.

[byhees]

hold me tight.

엔하이픈 형선 ・ female reader + word count 400 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read skinship kissing — more

a/n. this was written in mid 2023 … it’s 2024 now..

heeseung

would prefer facing you whilst cuddling— his heart simply swells at the sight of you; likes it when you curl into his circle of warmth, head softly resting against his chest, his heartbeat strumming a pretty song in the comfortable silence.

cuddles accompanied by little kisses; him pressing quick pecks over your face, each gentle touch akin to dew-kissed petals.

would softly run a hand up and down your back, a smile blossoming on his face with every soft, ticklish giggle lacing the air.

jongseong

cuddles, where you both are on the verge of sleep; eyelids lightly flutter close every so often, yet hands are still wrapped around the other’s torso, not wanting to break away from the comfort.

him clinging to you after a long day, the smell of your shampoo filling his senses with such indescribable love; finger barely grazing your arm, face buried in the crook of your neck.

words of affirmation being elicited, voices lightly bouncing off the four walls of the quiet room; his heart melting when you blink up to meet his gaze, the softest of smiles dawning your features.

jaeyun

likes it when you rest your head on his lap; he’d run his fingers through your hair, lightly messing it up only for the reaction it’d provoke; would occasionally boop the tip of your nose, finding your response adorable.

likes hearing your voice; it lingers like stardust, calming him almost immediately; relishes in the way it softens with the close proximity, whispers leaving a trail of delicate warmth in their wake.

would likely be the big spoon; he simply likes holding you close to his embrace, as though a fortress to keep you snug and safe. the feeling that’d flourish in his chest is beyond the capabilities of verbal explanation; would often brush strands of stray hair out of your face, finding everything about you so endearing.

sunghoon

cuddles where his eyes softly lock onto the contours of your face, gaze gently tracing the crests of your cheeks; his lips lightly brushing your forehead, a small kiss being pressed onto skin. would pull you back into a warm hug after a moment of admiration.

would cling onto you like a koala, not wanting to be separated from your embrace; always has the sweetest smile on his face, deep dimple being the cherry-on-top to his soft request.

him finding comfort in your hold, often crashing into your warmth after a stressful setback; his heart flitting and fluttering as you softly squeeze his arm, a breath of relief being heaved; would kiss the top of your head, heart full of love.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[cera-writes]

Ehehehe Gambit! Yes hi you’ve probably already written something like this but can I have some Gambit smut with him being all like gentle and stuff? Like, a lot of praise and a lot of gentle whispering during it? And if you wouldn’t mind I’d like it to be gender neutral (afab reader is fine I don’t mind but just the pronouns and stuff)

I absolutely love your work!

A/N: Thank you! We love a soft dom Remy <3 Pairing: Remy LeBeau x gn!Reader Tags: sweet sensual sex, Dom-Remy, praise, mutual consent, adoration, body worship

"Be Gentle."

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains of the X-Mansion, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. You were sipping a glass of wine, its contents doing little to ease your anxiety about tonight. You and Remy had already been intimate with one another a couple of times before this, but tonight would be different. You had asked him to show his softer side. You took another shaky swig of the cabernet sauvignon and set the glass down on the coffee table when you heard footsteps approaching.

Remy LeBeau, his usual swagger softened by a tender smile, approached you where you stood in the living room, seemingly waiting for him. You turned, feeling his presence as he swaggered over to you. Your eyes met his, and without a word, he extended his hand.

"Mm, don' you look like a sweet slice o' cherry pie..." he smirked, taking you in as his eyes slid over your form. Between missions and putting the sake of humanity first, there'd been little time to really give in to the sexual part of your relationship with him in quite a while. But you knew one thing, and that one thing was that you absolutely needed to be swept up in the Cajun man before you lost your own sanity.

As if sensing your anxiety, he gently beckoned you. "Come wit' Remy," his voice a low, soothing whisper that seemed to caress the air between you both. You hesitated for a moment, your nerves evident despite the established intimacy of your relationship. Remy's eyes reflected understanding and a promise of gentleness as he stepped closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

"Gambit know you asked for gentle tonight, cher," he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Let Remy show you how gentle he can be."

His words were a balm to your anxiety, and you nodded, allowing Remy to lead you up the stairs and down the quiet corridor to his bedroom. The door clicked softly shut behind you, sealing the two of you into a world of your own.

Remy turned to face you, his hands resting gently on both sides of your face. He leaned in, his lips barely touching your ear as he spoke, "You are beautiful, y'know dat? Gods, chere... every part of you is perfect." His praise was sincere, each word carefully chosen to soothe and arouse you. And Gods, was it already working. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly as he spoke sweet words of affirmation to you.

As he pulled back slightly, his hands began a slow, deliberate journey down the your already goosebumped arms, stopping to intertwine your fingers. "Remy wanna touch every inch of you," he murmured, guiding your hands to rest upon his chest. You could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm, a tangible sign of his desire.

"Take your time chere," Remy encouraged, his voice still a whisper, yet filled with command. "Explore me."

Nodding, you allowed your hands to roam over Remy's body, guided by his gentle but firm direction. Each touch was met with a soft groan or a whispered compliment, heightening the intimacy of the moment. You bit your lip. "Remy..."

"Dat's it, cher," Remy breathed as your delicate fingertips deliberately traced the strong contours of his abdomen. "Si bon."

The room was charged with tension, thick and palpable. Remy's gaze never left the your blushed face, his eyes dark with passion yet clear with intent. He brought one of your shaking hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle with deliberate tenderness before stepping back slightly.

"Now, let Gambit see you," he requested softly, his hands reaching for the hem of the your shirt. With careful movements, he lifted it over your head, his eyes conveying nothing but reverence. "You takin' Remy's breath away," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

You bit your lip once more in shy reverence, too timid to meet his gaze while exposed but still, you felt safe even under Remy's intense scrutiny. He moved closer again, his hands ghosting over your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine. "Look at me, chere," his voice a low murmur, tilting your chin up to meet his lustful eyes. "Every part of you... jus' fascinant, "he repeated, his voice a reverential hush.

He led you slowly towards the bed, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As you sat side by side, Remy continued his gentle exploration, his hands and lips leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. "You feel so incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against the your neck.

You gasped at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to Remy's skilled seduction as you let a soft moan escape your lips. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Relax, cher," he whispered, his hands moving to cup your flushed face. "Lemme take care of you."

With that, he eased you back onto the bed, following you down with a lithe grace that belied his strength. His body covered yours, not exactly pinning you down but offering a protective warmth. "Look at Remy," he demanded softly, his eyes locking with yours. "Only me."

You obeyed silently, your breathing quickening as Remy's hands and lips worked their magic. Each touch was calculated, each kiss placed with precision, building a slow, simmering heat between you both. "You're doin' so well," Remy praised, punctuating his words with gentle nips along the reader's jawline.

"Ah, Remy!..." you'd managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of need and utter surrender. This wasn't your first time with him, but Gods did he make it feel like a whole new experience when he worshipped every inch of you.

"Shh, cher," he soothed, his lips finding the yours once more. "Jus' feel."

And so you did, lost in the dance of his touch, guided by Remy's hands as he worked you into a frenzied, dazed mess.

Remy's hands roamed over your aching nether regions, his touch becoming more assertive as your passion was quickly nearing its zenith. His breath was hot against your neck as he nipped and bit the skin there, his own hardness pressed firmly and achingly against your thigh with need.

"Mon ange," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tu es si belle, si parfaitement délicieuse." His fingers traced patterns on your skin, one hand playing with your chest and the other still between your legs, igniting sparks of pleasure with each stroke.

Your eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. Remy continued, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Je veux te posséder, te sentir à moi tout entière." He dragged his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Fireworks ignited behind your eyelids as you threw your head back, mouth forming the words, "Oh fuck, Remy!"

He grinned, eyes half lidded with pure lust as he reached for a condom and quickly slid it over his rock hard length. "Ready for me, chere?"

You bit your lip hard enough to nearly draw blood as he hiked one of your legs up, lining himself up with you. Once he entered you, his pace was slow at first before he settled into a comfortable rhythm between you both. You hissed in pleasure as you braced yourself on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Laisse-moi te baiser si bien..." he smirked, a flicker that same manner of cockiness in his voice that he usually spoke to you with, evident in his voice for a sheer second.

Remy's words became more fervent as he picked up his pace, needing to feel every bit of you. "Ouvre-toi à moi, laisse-moi t'aimer comme tu le mérites." He took one of your hands, bringing it to his lips before peppering kisses against your knuckles, his eyes boring into yours with half lust and half adoration at the sight of you under him. You were no longer trying to bite back moans as he thrusted over and over, ever so deliciously inside of you.

His hands then gripped your hips, guiding them into the rhythm that promised sweet release.

You arched into him, your body trembling with anticipation. He soothingly rubbed circles against the dip of your hip with one hand, the other still gripping your waist as he held you in that ecstacy shattering rhythm. "Dat's it, chere..." Remy's voice was a soothing balm amidst the storm of sensation. "C'est bon, mon cher. Laisse-toi aller à moi." You were flush against his skin, taking him the deepest you've ever felt him inside of you as you moaned deliciously, eyes rolling back.

With a final, urgent whisper of "Viens avec moi," Remy brought you both over the edge, your bodies entwined in a dance of pure pleasure and finally, sweet release. Your breaths mingled, heavy and ragged, as you floated back to earth, wrapped in the afterglow of passion fulfilled.

He kissed your temple before rubbing soothing circles on your back, cuddling into you as his breathing evened back out from fucking you so earth shatteringly good. "That was..." you trailed off blissfully as a yawn escaped your lips.

"Everythin' and more chere. Je vous aime."

And with that, you both eased into a blissfully pleased and fulfilled sleep.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.

In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.

Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.

A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!

You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.

"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"

His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"

You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."

"I came in last week," he says.

You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."

"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.

"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."

"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."

"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"

He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."

He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"

"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."

"Is that what you wear?" He asks.

"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.

"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."

He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.

"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."

"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.

"How do you know?" You say.

"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."

"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"

"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."

"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."

"Charlie Brown," he repeats.

"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."

"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."

"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."

"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."

You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.

"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."

"Well, he was nice," you say.

"Kinda cute, too," she intones.

"He was shopping for his wife."

"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."

"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."

"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.

"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”

🎀

Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.

You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.

“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”

No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.

You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns. 

“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.

You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.

“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”

“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”

“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”

“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”

“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”

“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”

“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.

“What do you mean?”

“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”

“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”

“You don’t think I have money?”

Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.

He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”

You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”

“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.

You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”

“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”

“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”

He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”

“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”

“It won’t turn on,” he growls.

“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”

“Double As?” He repeats.

“It needs batteries, sir.”

He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.

“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”

“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”

“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.

“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”

“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.

“It says on the receipt, sir.”

“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.

“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”

“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.

“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”

Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.

“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.

“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”

“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”

She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.

“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”

You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.

Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.

🎀

It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.

You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.

“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”

“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.

“Right, can I get a name?”

“Why?” He challenges.

“For… for the package,” you sputter.

“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.

“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.

“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”

“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”

“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”

You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.

“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”

“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.

“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”

“Why would you do that?” He asks.

“Er, because… it’s policy?”

“You think I can’t afford it?”

“N-no, I didn’t say–”

“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.

“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.

He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”

You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”

“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”

“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”

He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.

You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”

“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”

“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”

“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”

“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.

“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”

[pequins]

mirrors .

jschlatt x [ afab ] reader smut

contents : mirror sex, heavy dom/sub undertones, obsessed schlatt.

you were in the bathroom of your shared house, getting ready for a fancy dinner jay had made plans weeks in advance for. You were wearing a beautiful black gown that he purchased for you, it hugged your body tightly, highlighting your shape. It was beautiful, knowing Jay, it had to be worth a lot of money.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you heard the door open. Jay's voice erupted, humming to himself as he walked in. He stopped when he saw you, noticing your reflection. he smiled, walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. His eyes met yours in the mirror. "hey gorgeous," he said softly, a warm smile spreading across his face.

Jay pulled back a bit to look at you properly. His expression was a mix of awe and love as he spoke. "you have no idea how beautiful you look right now." You blushed, his words causing a flutter in your heart.

He hugged your body tightly. You took a moment before speaking, Jay waited patiently, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips as he admired you.

"I look like a princess, its a little— dramatic, dont ya' think?" you said shyly, Jay chuckled as he heard your words. "Not a princess, a queen, my queen" he smiled, kissing your cheek before continuing, "and no, it's not dramatic, you look hot." he whispered, running his hands over your body, His lips traveling down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses.

You couldn't help but smile a little at Jay’s words, his kisses making your skin tingle. His hands roamed your body, appreciating every curve and contour. You leaned into his touch, feeling the heat building within you. "You really think so?" you asked softly, He trailed kisses back up to your jawline, and then murmured into your ear, his voice low and sultry.

"I really, really do," he whispered, His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer against his core, you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he continued to kiss and caress you. His breath was warm against your skin, causing your breath to hitch as his fingers inched toward your lower body.

"You look gorgeous in anything, but especially in this dress. You know why?" He said, eyes connecting with yours in the reflection of the large mirror. You could feel your breath quickening as Jay's hands and lips explored your body, sending shivers down your spine.

His words only served to fan the flames of desire that were igniting within you. "Why?" you managed to ask with a breathless whisper, your body pressing closer to his. His lips curved into a devilish smile, his eyes meeting yours.

He leaned in closer, his hands continuing to wander, one hand finding its way under the hem of your dress, reaching between your legs and gently caressing you over your panties. the other resting at your hip, "This dress shows off how fucking perfect you are," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"and you're all mine." he muttered, almost as if he was reminding himself of the fact. Your heart fluttered at his possessive words, his hand tracing you under your dress causing you to gasp. Your body felt like it was on fire, every touch of his sending sparks of pleasure through you. "All yours," you whispered back, your shaky voice filled with a mix of desire and tenderness.

He let out a gravelly sigh in approval, his grip on you tightening. "That's right," he murmured as the hand on your hip inched higher, groping at your chest. "Mine and mine only."

Your eyes closed as the sensations washed over you, the combination of his possessive words and the way he was touching you was driving you wild. Your body pressed closer against him, seeking more contact. You could feel his need for you, and it only heightened your own desire.

You wanted him, now. He could feel your desire, and his restraint was wearing thin. His mouth found its way back to your ear, his voice low and rough as he whispered, "Do you know how badly I want you right now?"

"then take me, please." you whispered shakily, He hissed at your words, his control breaking. In an instant, he had you bent over the sink, hand roughly pressed against the back of your neck, the cold counter flush against your cheek. you gasped, the sudden move took your breath away. you whimpered, your heart racing as his other hand left your soaked pussy, swiftly lifting the hem of your dress. "you want this?" he asked gruffly, two fingers digging underneath the fabric of your panties.

"yes— yes, please." you whined, face flushed, the heat between you both almost palpable. He smiled wolfishly, his fingers exploring, moving the fabric to the side, you could hear his breath coming in short bursts, "Good girl." he murmured, two fingers slipping easily between your folds. "already wet for me?" he stated, smiling devilishly.

"yes, only for you." you moaned, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around his calloused fingers. "so beautiful," he murmured, starting to roughly bend and thrust his fingers in and out of you. "all mine." he huffed as he bent his head to your shoulder, kissing and biting your flesh. you mewled, mouth shooting open as you let out a string of high pitched moans and whines. he abruptly took his fingers out, leaving you huffing and whining for his touch to continue.

He roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your head up just enough to look into the mirror, you sas your own reflection staring back at you, your hair tousled, cheeks flushed and eyes glossed over with desire. You could feel his grip on your neck, the pressure enough to make you lightheaded.

he brought his slick coated fingers up to your mouth, He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "open." He commanded, his voice commanding and authoritative. You obeyed, feeling a mixture of submission and desire as you opened your mouth, he mercilessly pushed his fingers deep into your throat. "look at me." he demanded, your eyes meet his, struck by the hunger in his gaze.

he smirked at your expression, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. "so fuckin pretty" he chuckled, his voice low and seductive. You moaned in response, the sensations and the sight of him dominating you making your mind hazy with lust. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, tasting him, wanting more. He groaned low in his throat, watching you, admiring the way your face looked as he teased you.

"you want me to fuck you? yeah?" he asked breathlessly, voice thick with desire. you nodded as much as you could with his fingers still in your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. your body was on fire, every touch and word from him sending waves of pleasure through you. you longed for him, ached for him. he didn't need any more invitation, letting go of your throat and swiftly unbuckling his pants, pulling his boxers down to his knees; his erect cock springing free, already shiny with precum.

you felt his tip prod at your entrance, coating his hard cock with your slick. he pushed inside of your tightness, sounds erupting from both of you. he animalistically slammed inside of you, gripping your hips as he set a rough, intense pace. the sound of his breathing grew heavier as he continued his movements, reaching deep inside of you, brushing against all the right spots. each movement forced a strangled moan to escape your mouth, mouth agape as your breath was knocked out of you with every thrust.

It didn't take long for you to become cockdrunk, gripping at the counter to stay grounded as you mewled and trembled, slick leaking down your legs. you stared up at the brunette locks shadowing his brown eyes, his hungry gaze fixed on your glossy eyes and smeared makeup. "fuck- baby" he groaned, feeling as if he could cum inside of you right then and there.

his pace faltered, groans getting louder and more gravelly as his grip on your throat got tighter. you squeezed uncontrollably around him, letting out loud strangled squeals as the knot in your core unleashed. he suddenly pulled out, erupting in deep, gutteral moans as he reached his peak, letting go of your throat as his hot, wet fluid spurt out onto your back and dress.

you both huffed, attempting to catch your breath after the intense high. he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his forehead "i dont think you can wear that out now, toots." you smiled, Your heart still racing, experiencing the after shocks as your legs trembled. "it'll wash." you mumbled softly, eyes half lidded as you laid against the cold counter.

[niki-phoria]

it's so sweet knowing that you love me

pairing: okkotsu yuuta x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 554

notes: yuuta my beloved <33 trying to work on making my fics longer lol, mention of reader wearing lip tint, inspo from this prompt list by @urfriendlywriter, title from cigarettes after sex - sweet

“i’ll be back soon,” OKKOTSU YUUTA tells you with a soft smile. he holds his katana in his hand, diligently wrapping the covering around it before sliding the weapon over his shoulder. “they said the curse is only a grade one. it’s nothing serious.”

you frown softly, taking a step closer to him. your gaze lingers on the thin metal ring wrapped around his finger. it almost glints beneath your kitchen lights, a glaring reminder of the curse permanently attached to yuuta. “if it wasn’t serious they wouldn’t have called you.” 

“i’m sorry.” yuuta catches his bottom lip between his teeth. his eyes flutter shut as he reaches up, brushing a hand through his bangs - a nervous habit. his hand lingers at the back of his neck, anxiously scratching against the nape of his neck. “i know this is hard on you, too.”

yuuta startles when you catch the collar of his jacket. he watches with wide eyes and rosy cheeks as your fingers curl around the fabric, gripping it tightly. his uniform will need to be ironed later, crumbled in the grasp of your hand, but he can’t find it in himself to care as you pull him back into your arms. 

leaning your head against his shoulder, you find solace in hiding your face into the crook of his neck. stray strands of his hair tickle against your cheeks. his arms snake around your waist; you shiver when yuuta’s fingers slip beneath the fabric of your t-shirt, rubbing indistinct shapes against the skin of your hips. 

the hum of the refrigerator whirring fills the silence. you shift slightly to lean your head against yuuta’s chest. closing your eyes, you focus on the rhythmic sound of his heart beating. the continuous thump thump thump soothes the worst of your anxieties. 

time passes indistinctly. you allow yourself to get lost in the tranquility of the moment until yuuta leans in. he presses a feather-light kiss against your forehead. “i need to go,” he whispers guiltily. 

reluctantly, you pull away, but your arms linger wrapped around his neck and his hands remain tentatively against your hips. yuuta’s eyes are the colour of honey. his gaze traces the contours of your face, admiring your features. slowly, you lean in. his lips are soft when they meet your own. your bodies mold together like two puzzle pieces - like you were made for each other. your lips linger for a little longer than normal; the kiss is bitter but sweet. remnants of your lip tint stain yuuta’s lips, painting them a soft cherry pink. 

yuuta’s hands slip to rest comfortably against your waist. your own fingers tangle into strands of his overgrown hair, raking through the soft strands at the nape of his neck. his cheeks flush brightly when you pull away, leaving his face shining a brilliant shade of pink. yuuta smiles bashfully. he’s almost sure you can hear just how fast his heart is beating in his chest. 

“come back soon,” you murmur. resting your hand against his cheek, you carefully brush your thumb against his smooth skin. your fingertips trace against faded acne scars and still-healing bruises. hues of purple bloom along the edge of his jawline. “come back safe.”  

yuuta smiles. leaning in, he presses another chaste peck to your lips. “i always do.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[flxrartsstuff]

Love Remembered

Authors note: You’re the Reincarnation of Sukunas one and only love. Every night you dream of him, seeing his face clear in front of you. He is ready to claim what belongs to him and he’s gonna do anything that needs to remind you. You know there’s a strange connection, you can’t deny it.

cw: nipple play, eating out, fingering, cumming undone, Sukuna being Sukuna

Art by @innaillus , Banner made by me

He had been watching you for a long time. Time didn't matter to him, but it became important when it comes to you. Because he couldn't waste a single second of feeling your presence. It was quite frightening that he watched you sleep every night, lying next to you in bed but not touching you. You woke up and thought you were just dreaming, that you had felt a certain closeness to something or someone. Your dreams had recently become wilder and...more authentic. You couldn't deny that they aroused you and that you woke up sweaty and in tears every morning. They were just dreams, you kept telling yourself.

But the more often they came, the more they burned themselves into your brain. It was always the same image.

You woke up in a field of flowers, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers you had ever seen, cherry blossom trees and the blue sky gave you a calm and idyllic picture of spring. In the shade of some trees, however, stood a tall and dark figure that seemed to have been waiting for you. The broad and large body was covered by a simple white kimono. You were wearing just as little fabric as you looked down at yourself and you sat in the meadow as if you had just landed from the sky. When you looked back at the stranger, he was standing in front of you suddenly, looking down at you with piercing red eyes.

»Do you remember?« he asked you simply. You looked up as if paralyzed, your mouth open for an answer, but nothing came out. He smirked, got down on his knees and came to eye level with you. His hand placed on your chin, forcing you to look directly at him. His thumb ran over the contours of your lips, each touch burning into your skin, feeling so real. You sighed and let yourself fall, after all, it was all just a dream, wasn't it?

»Remember me!« he insisted, running his hand from your mouth down to your neck, almost possessively. On the one hand, his touch was so gentle, while at the same time it seemed so rough and agitated. As if he had to hold himself from falling all over you. His long dark nails scraped across your skin, matching with his unmistakable black tattoos. They snaked over his shoulders and chest. You didn't dare touch him of fear the dream would be over then.

And you didn't want that. You felt the same connection and attraction every time. You let him touch you as if it were a matter of course, you wanted more and didn't want him to leave again. Your eyes wandered over his entire figure, caressing his striking face with your gaze and memorizing everything so you wouldn't forget it. But why? Why did you feel like you already knew him? And longing for him? This feeling of having missed him all these years without realizing it?

He took one of your hands in his, as if he had read your mind, and placed it on his cheek. As soon as you touched him, his ruby eyes seemed to glow. He was warm and surprisingly to your first impressions of him, his skin was so soft and flawless. You looked at him like a harmless deer. Your gaze so empty and yet so curious.

»Remember me.« he pressed out again more forcefully, turned his head and let your hand, which had previously been on his cheek, slide over his mouth. He kissed it, kissed each of your fingers, let his tongue wander over the spaces between them. Just the sight of this intimate moment made you sigh. It was so forbidden, but it felt so right. His other hand, which had previously been on the back of your neck, had now moved to your hip and impatiently pulled you closer to him. Your body bounced against his, your breasts beneath your gauzy fabric of clothing meeting his with rapture. You tried to push yourself back from him with one hand, but it didn’t really help. He held you without a problem, kissing your fingers and moving his mouth to your wrist as he slowly pushed you further and further back into the flowers. His body was over you like a cage, pressing against yours, which seemed to offer no resistance. Quite unlike your mind, your body was far more ahead and had long since revealed your desire for him. Your heart was beating so loudly it was as if he could hear it. A dark growl left his lips in affirmation.

By now he was no longer kissing your hand, but your neck, littering your skin with numerous touches and leaving a burning trail all over. So burning that you could feel it all the way down to your abdomen. Instinctively, you grabbed the back of his head, buried your hand in his pink hair and sighed through his kisses.

Deep down, you knew who it was. That's why you not only allowed it, but wanted more and more. He noticed the change in you, but that wasn't enough for him. So he kept going, pushing your clothes off your shoulders, exposing your collarbone and letting his tongue wander deeper and deeper. Soft sighs and whispers left your mouth, becoming indecent needs and desires.

Your whispering was music to his ears that he couldn't get enough of. He pressed himself more intensely against your body, letting you feel what awaited you as soon as he did. His hard erection, still hidden under his clothes, clearly revealed how hungry he was for you. He didn't bother to hide it, more than that. He rubbed himself against you, against your wet center, which he claimed for himself alone. You moaned as you felt him, so close and yet so far away. Clothes rubbed over clothes, as if he was doing it on purpose. Your abdomen was throbbing, as was your pussy, which was now drowning in its own moisture. Impatient as he was, he opened your robe and exposed you completely naked in front of him, not for the first time. His hungry gaze slid over your entire body, he licked his lips and leaned down to you, only to take possession of your sensitive nipples straight away. As he devoured one breast with his mouth, he took care of the other with one hand, rolling the tip through his fingers and pinching it every now and then. Your mouth was wide open as you couldn't hold back another moan, grinding your hips against his with desire.

You wanted him here and now, right on this meadow, among all these flowers. Your eyes sparkled with lust when he kept looking up at you as he kissed you. Your nipple kept slipping through his tongue with ease, had become so hard and red that he sighed and turned to the other one to do the same. Your back arched, your hips thrust harder against his, but all he had left in response was a dark giggle. Now he knew that your senses had come to life.

»Sukuna...« your voice was a whisper, so desperate, so lustful. His hot breath hit your sensitive skin as he moved away from your breasts again and wandered lower to your stomach. He pushed both thighs apart with less force to expose your already glistening pussy, which was just waiting for him to finally take possession of it. He draped both your legs on his shoulders and positioned himself right in the center of you.

»Let me taste you...« were his words as his mouth was already over your clit and each of his breaths hit you directly on your wet and sensitive folds. He devoured your pussy hungrily, moaning as soon as he tasted your wetness. You flinched with pleasure, sweet sounds escaping your lips as you lolled beneath him. His tongue and teeth rubbed against your sensitive center, teasing your clit. He penetrated you, wanting to taste you deep inside him and not waste a single drop of your sweet nectar. He seemed to want to drown himself in it, but at the same time torment you by taking all the time in the world.

It felt so forbidden, so appealing and dangerous. His eyes glowed red as you looked down. Seeing his head between your thighs sent your lust to unimagined heights. You moved your hips slightly against his tongue and sighed, moaning into the sky above you. The scent that emanated from the flowers and him clouded your senses. Alongside his tongue, he drove his fingers into you, first one and then two. Immediately your body reared up, wanting more. Naughty sucking and smacking rang in your ears as he continued calmly, holding your hips so you couldn't move. You felt the heat running down your thighs and center like hot lava, felt it growing bigger and bigger inside you. All you wanted was to let yourself drift and get closer and closer to the climax. And because he finally had you as far as he wanted, he didn't stop.

»So sweet…and this is all mine.« he growled against your pussy and your body shook. It wasn't a request, it was a clear message that brooked no objection.

»Y-yes, yes…« you moaned from half-closed eyes, your legs pushed even further apart than they already were. He gave you the rest when he took possession of your breast again with his free hand and at the same time circled the tip of your nipple while he licked and tasted you. As soon as he had your nipple between his fingers, your climax overtook you and you came uncontrollably on his mouth.

»Oh my god…ohhh yesss…«

»That’s a good girl.« He licked over your pussy and greedily took in your entire ejaculation, tasting your orgasm on his lips. Moaning, he rolled his eyes, drowning in your center, sucking on you until you had fully gone through your climax. Your hands got lost in his hair and let his pink strands slide through your fingers. Greedily he came up to you and kissed you urgently so that you could taste the flavor of you on his lips. Your center was still throbbing, hard and demanding, while his hips pressed invitingly against it. But when his lips came away from yours, smacking, the image of him disappeared.

He was no longer lying on top of you and you were no longer lying on the flower meadow. You could barely stop yourself from sobbing out loud, swallowing hard and realizing where you were. How could someone you had never met before have such power over you? You saw his face so clearly in your dream that it could no longer be a coincidence. As if he crept into your mind every night.

»You’re mine.«

Part 2: ?

[vallification]

first time (NSFW)

"womanly advice" // JJK AU PT. 3!

incl: satoru gojo, suguru geto

content: NSFW, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, spitting, creampies, teasing, cunnilingus, f!reader, established-ish relationships

wc: 4.3k

minors/ageless blogs do not interact.

please like, reblog, and tell me your thoughts!!!

satoru gojo

“did you do this for meee?” gojo teases, feigning shock as he drags his fingers across the bare stretch of skin where your pajama shorts would usually be. your hand clasps over his tightly once it starts to travel further inward, your eyes wide. 

“no, actually, you woke me up to come over and i forgot i sleep without pants on,” you correct, stilling his hand with an iron grip that he could easily overcome if he so pleased, but your grip falters when he begins to pepper feather-light kisses under your jaw. “p-plus, we can’t do anything, anyway.”

“you on your period or somethin’?” he murmurs against your neck, his cool breath fanning out over your quickly warming skin. it tickles, but you aren’t giggling; you blush, eyelashes batting as your eyes start to slip shut. no, you think, weakly trying to snap yourself out of whatever trance gojo’s trying to put you in, but failing miserably.

“no,” you whisper, sighing softly when gojo nips at your earlobe before kissing the spot just behind it. biting down on your bottom lip to hush yourself, you decide that some kisses won’t hurt. maybe.

“not ready? just don’t want to? ‘s okay,” kiss, open-mouthed and soft, right at your pulse point. 

“no– no, i want to, i just…” god damn his mouth, you think to yourself, just wanting to finish one sentence without your voice faltering into a pathetic little whine, you swallow, your throat thick with anticipation, before finishing your thought. “haven’t shaved in a while, so…”

gojo’s lips stop working their magic on your neck, and he pushes himself up to look at you, unimpressed. “i’m a grown man.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means exactly what i said,” he emphasizes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “i’m a grown man, i don’t care.”

“... are you sure–?”

gojo interrupts you with another kiss, this one searingly slow, saccharine if not for the implication behind it: shut up. you do, of course, submitting to his kiss with a soft sigh, his tongue taking the opportunity to swipe against the plushness of your lower lip, a silent command to let him explore. 

as if he was in control of both his body and yours, in one fell swoop he changes your position, now hovering over you between your slightly spread legs. gojo’s arms cage you in, one elbow on either side of your head but conscious not to put any weight on your hair, letting his knees slide lower in the bed until his torso is flush with yours. the connection of your kiss never breaks, and gojo’s swallowing every gasp, moan, sigh, and whimper that he pulls from your throat as he glides his tongue over yours. 

snaking your arms around his neck, you let your hands learn the pattern of the crafted muscles of his back,  memorizing the way they feel under the gentle pressure of your fingertips. it makes him groan, something low and free as you rub at the tense, taut, covered flesh of his back. 

breaking the kiss, gojo lifts himself upright to gaze down at you, your lips kissed cherry red and your cheeks blossoming a sort of pink he swears he’s only seen in magazines. one finger slides between his temple and his blindfold, crooking around it and tugging it off, leaving his view of you unobstructed. there’s something about the action that makes you melt against your sheets, wanting more than anything to press your thighs together, yet you’re unable to as he pulls them over his own.  

you hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in tongues and lips, but in the low lamplight, you see gojo’s shirt. black, compressive, clinging to each and every contoured muscle of his body; his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his sides, his impressively stacked abdominal muscles that you could feel before you even saw… and then his hands take hold of the hem of the shirt, peeling it off of himself to join his hoodie on the floor, those same muscles now bare before you. you’re speechless. 

“this alright?” he asks, but you’re completely absorbed in the magnificent view. the way his gray sweats sit low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers visible for a half-inch above them, the chiseled ‘V’ dipping into that waistband, the daunting trail of snow-white hair centered between it all, and the outline of… god, you can’t even finish that thought. “i think somebody likes the view,” gojo teases, so smug that if you weren’t putty in his hands, you’d kick him out here and now.

not keen on waiting for a response, he resumes his previous position, pressed against you at the hips, stomach to stomach. one of his roaming hands finds a temporary home where your left thigh meets the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing, groping, pulling you to hook that leg over his hips. the newfound position gets you closer, spreading your legs apart that much more to finally feel the thick print of his cock against your pussy, only separated by clothes that you’re coming to find offensive. 

artful, narrow hips tilt forward, marking the first rut against you, and you moan at the drag of friction against your core that only you have offered yourself in the past five years. gojo swears above you, crashing his lips into yours as he continues to grind himself into you, hissing as your nails scratch desperately down his back as if you were trying to keep yourself from falling. you buck your hips up, trying to match his rhythm, but your legs are already shaking with pleasure and anticipation, which has not gone unnoticed by gojo. 

“what d’ya want?” he asks, breathless and sultry as he moves to target your exposed neck with his kisses. chasing any trace of pleasure gojo’s willing to give you, your back arches off of the bed with each searing, god-given kiss, and you can barely think, much less speak, but he needs your answer like he needs air. you gasp when you feel his sharp, pearly-white teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just beneath your jaw, and moan at his rumbling voice as he soothes the spot with his tongue. “tell me what y’want, i wanna know, baby.” 

“satoru, i-i want— fuck,” you whine, far too high on the way you can feel the heat of his cock grind against your clothed, aching pussy. if you spread out far enough, the lightest drag of friction ghosts across your throbbing clit, awestruck at the jolt of electricity radiating from the sensation. another sharp nip at your neck, meant as reprimand, makes you cry out his name. 

“words,” gojo tuts, sliding his hands so deliciously between your bodies and over your stomach, up to your clothed, heaving chest. softly squeezing both of your soft breasts in his hands, he can feel your hardened nipples in his palms through your shirt, and it takes every last drop of his willpower not to rip the shirt off of you like an animal. “i wanna hear you say what you want me t’do, baby, tell me so i can do it.” 

“touch me,” gasping, your voice begging and breathless, having been reduced to nothing by something as juvenile as dry humping and over-the-shirt contact. “please touch me, satoru, i want you to touch me so bad, please.”

-

“you feel s’fucking good, fuck,” gojo whines, ragged and desperate as he fucks into you, so hard and so deep that it would hurt if it wasn’t so damn good. almost all of his weight is pressed into you, with his hands gripping the backs of your knees, folding you up so far you can see your ankles next to your head, limply swaying with each vicious thrust. “this ‘s my fucking pussy, right? ‘s mine, nobody else’s, right?”

“y-yes, yours, ‘s yours, satoru,” rambling pathetically through your unabashed, unfiltered moans, your jaw slack from a primitive sort of pleasure you’ve never experienced before this. the only time you’re even close to hushed is when gojo captures your lips in a kiss so forceful that you’re scared he’ll knock your teeth out, mixing your delirious cries with his guttural, whining moans.

“you’re so perfect, so fucking pretty when i fuck you. hear how wet you are? perfect fucking pussy’s so sloppy,” from that delicious chiseled V-line to his balls, slapping against your ass each time he thrusts into you, gojo’s skin is soaked in your slick, so wet and so much that it’s audible from between you. one hand lets go of its grip on the back of your knee, and gojo leans forward to keep it in place with his shoulder as he grabs a fist full of your hair, forcing your eyes down to where his thick, long cock disappears into your pussy. 

“watch me fuck you, baby, fucking watch it,” he rasps, relishing in the way his grip on your hair makes you cry out. it’s so hard to open your eyes, too fucked out to focus on much, but you obey and watch the way your pussy seems to suck him in, and it almost makes you drool. “so fuckin’ tight, so tight, so tight, god.” 

“‘m gonna cum again, satoru, i-i’m so close, please don’t stop,” you beg, words slurring together like you’re drunk off of his cock. you’re sweating, skin sticky, tingling as gojo pulls almost all the way out of you, just to slam right back inside, the burning stretch of him splitting you open more than enough to send you barreling towards your third orgasm. 

releasing his vice grip on your hair, gojo’s hand moves between you to rub sweet circles on your swollen clit, the pounding pace of his thrusts unfaltering as he resumes the position. he’s drinking up the vision of you beneath him like a man that’s wandered the desert for miles, thirsty and praying for water, burning the image into his mind to remember it forever, and ever, and ever. how your face scrunches up each time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, how your eyebrows have sloped down almost pitifully, how your glorious mouth hangs open in that perfect little ‘o’ shape around your perfect moans of his name. 

“gonna cum on my cock again, baby? gonna be such a good, good girl and cum for me, baby?” gojo adores the way you babble ‘yes, yes, yes, satoru, yes’ in response to every question, rewarding your behavior with a passionate, messy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. “let me cum in you, please baby,” he begs against your lips, pussydrunk and hellbent on fucking you till he’s got nothing left. “wanna cum in your perfect pussy, baby, don’t make me pull out.”

the drag of his cock, the way it rubs against that perfect, spongy spot inside of you, the perfect pattern he’s tracing over your clit, his voice, begging to cum inside of you, all of it’s too much to bear when you’re so fucking close. gojo moans at the way your tight, sloppy pussy clenches around him sporadically before your metaphorical string snaps. 

“oh, fuck satoru yes, fuck,” crying, toes curling, back arching, pussy gushing around his cock as your orgasm tears through you like a hurricane, so wet, so sudden, so strong, gojo’s pace still so relentless as he fucks you through it. his ragged, almost animalistic moans take on a whiny, desperate tone as he watches you unravel beneath him, savoring the patterned grip and clench of your pussy as you cum because of him. so pretty for him, so good for him, so perfect— 

“good fuckin’ girl, yes, baby,” he whines, soothing your over-pleasured cries and the burning coil of his own approaching orgasm with more kisses, uncoordinated and sloppy in his efforts. that familiar tightening feeling in his balls warns him that he’s so, so close, and if this were any other time he’d slow down, pull out, switch positions, anything to slow himself down, but– “you feel so fucking good, god, fuck.” 

gojo’s rambling is punctuated with one final slam of his hips, fully sheathing his twitching cock inside of that perfect, sopping wet pussy he can’t stop blabbering about, succumbing to the divine sensation of release. thick, hot, milky-white cum pours into you in quick, powerful bursts, every single one of gojo’s muscles spasming with such strength that all he can manage to do is fuck his cum further inside in short, shallow, uneven thrusts through his climax. 

it’s an entire minute before he can even think about pulling out of you, and the little mewl that leaves your lips when he does makes him want nothing more than to slip right back inside, but he doesn’t. sitting back on his heels, he takes in the aftermath of what he’s done: you, legs spread and shaking, chest heaving, pussy dripping with his cum, dripping down, down, down to a puddle on the bed beneath you with each clench around nothing. 

“pretty,” he mumbles, gathering you in his arms as he lays down beside you. a soft kiss is pressed to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips. “sleep?”

you don’t think situationships are supposed to do this.

suguru geto

“beautiful,” geto whispers to himself, lips ghosting against the inside of your thigh with every spoken syllable, the brushing contact against your skin doing nothing to ease the growing ball of anticipation in your stomach. at the head of the bed, you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip, quickly growing unwilling to be patient any longer. even if you’re not looking at him anymore, geto’s magnetic eyes haven’t left your face since he started this torturous exchange.

that is until he finally allows his eyes to flick down your body, taking mental pictures at each pit stop on the journey to the sight in front of him. exposed, untouched, weeping, the beautiful place between your legs that he’s been oh-so-carefully avoiding, not only with his kiss but with his gaze. geto wanted you at the edge of sanity for this, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you when he looks back up to your face, twisted up as if you were on the edge of being in pain. 

“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his smooth, deep voice sickly sweet as he feigns innocence. you can feel the warmth of his lips less than an inch away from your neglected, dripping core, and while you don’t have the bravery to openly react, you make up for it in sheer desperation. something of a sob, a pitiful, sad noise, leaves your bitten lips as you clutch the sheets in frustration. 

“please,” is all you can muster, your voice meek, wobbling as you near tears. 

“oh, don’t cry, baby… please what?”

“fuck– geto, please do something,” you beg, praying that the tears welling up in your closed eyes don’t fall, but more so that he’ll just give in, give you something, give his tongue a task that doesn’t involve torturing you any more than he already has. 

“who?”

“suguru!” you cry out, those tears you prayed so hard not to fall slipping down your flushed cheeks in two steady streams, your display of desperation finally enough to convince geto that you deserve this. 

not wanting any more time to be wasted, geto slowly presses his lips to your achingly untouched pussy, immediately darting his tongue out to lick a flat stripe from your sopping entrance to your throbbing clit. a low groan sounds from geto’s throat as he tastes you for the first time, mumbling something into your wet folds about how good you taste on his tongue. the relief, the pleasure, the vibration of his sultry voice against you, it’s all mindnumbing, your jaw immediately falling slack around a moan of, “yes.”

all of the teasing and taunting no longer seems like it was for nothing more than sick entertainment, the payoff proving to be so much more than worth it when geto’s sly tongue circles your swollen clit, his lips following suit and closing around the little bud and sucking. it pulls something guttural from your throat, a loud, shuddering moan ringing out through your apartment, like music to geto’s ears. 

“your pussy tastes so sweet, baby,” suck, “so beautiful, you’re doing so well,” geto praises between his divine pattern of slow, sensual, deliberate licks over the entirety of your pussy, his tongue dipping inside you before swirling over your clit, sucking, then repeating the process all over again. the consistency of his godsent mouth is brutal, far too careful and calculated to make you overly sensitive, but messy and nasty enough to completely overwhelm your senses.

you’re not sure if it’s because of the teasing, or if it’s because suguru geto is just that good, but you can feel your orgasm building, winding up like a metal spring with each swipe and prod of geto’s tongue against you. the pressure and the pleasure pooling in your stomach makes your thighs start to close around the sides of geto’s face, but the moment your skin touches his, he stops, and you sob.

pushing your legs up to your chest, geto glares daggers up at you, his slender eyes shooting you a warning against letting anything get in his way. “hold them,” he commands, eyes still locked on yours as you grip the back of your knees, now using both hands to spread your pussy open to his liking. “it’d be a shame if i had to stop again, baby. understand?”

“yes, suguru,” you whimper, flustered at the position he’s got you in, so open, so exposed. 

despite his temporary snap, you and geto both melt when his tongue slips back inside of you, your eyes rolling back at the delicious intrusion. it takes little time for geto to work you up to where you were before he stopped, but this time you don’t dare let your legs close, keeping them in a vice grip no matter how hard it is to fight against your own body. 

each controlled, precise flick, suck, lick, slurp against your pussy makes you whine, pulls you closer to the edge, and drives you so fucking crazy that you’re not sure this is real life anymore. geto’s far too absorbed in devouring you to notice, but you’re babbling now, on and on about how you’re so close, right there, don’t stop, suguru, suguru, suguru, oh–

“oh fuck,” you gasp, unaware that an orgasm could roll through you so slowly, so gradually that you’re sure it’s a fakeout until you’re arching off the bed, vision pure white in such a powerful explosion of pleasure that it’s blinding. “suguru, fuck, fuck fuck–”

“oh, baby… look at you,” he mumbles against you, his mouth dripping with your slick, drunk on your taste as he laps at the overflowing gush of wetness from your orgasm, which continues to  roll over you like ocean waves. geto savors the way your overstimulated clit twitches against his tongue, and the way your gorgeous, glistening pussy clenches around nothing. what a shame that geto’s sweet, sweet self-control has run out while you’re so, so sensitive. 

the tip of his middle finger dips into you, eliciting the sweetest little mewl from your lips, gathering your slick with it before slowly plunging it deeper inside of you, letting it sink to the knuckle before dragging it back out. you’re so wet that there’s little resisitance other than the precious little clenches from the aftermath of your first orgasm of the night. a second joins the first when geto slides his nimble fingers back inside, eyes sparkling when he can see the way your pussy grips around them.

how badly he wanted your first time together to be soft and sweet, loving and languid, is completely trumped by how achingly hard his cock sits against his stomach, sensitive red tip soaked in a pool of precum from his position on his stomach. pulling his fingers free from your grip, he wastes no time with undressing, settling for pushing the waistband of his joggers down just enough to let his cock spring free, and while he doesn’t purposefully make a show of his size, your eyes can’t help but grow wide at the sight.

“come here,” geto commands again, his voice a low type of growl you’ve never heard from his lips, and if it weren’t so fucking hot you’d be scared. well, maybe you are a little scared if you add the size of his cock into the equation, but it’s hot nonetheless. you scramble to get yourself up and where he wants you, and you’ve never been manhandled before, but you assume the way he grabs you fits the bill. 

geto lifts you into his lap and slides the two of you up to the head of the bed, resting your back against the cold hardwood headboard before heaving your legs up over his broad shoulders. it’s not too different from the way he had you just minutes ago, but the pressure of his body forcing you into that position is enough to have you begging him to hurry up. 

snaking one hand between your bodies, using the other to grip the headboard in an effort to brace himself, geto guides his aching cock to your dripping entrance and gently starts pushing himself inside you. you wince, flinching when the stretch of geto trying to bury himself inside you starts to feel like it’s going to be impossible without being agonizing.

“s-slower,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut to try and focus on adjusting to his size, expression slightly pained as your head falls back against the headboard. “‘s so big… i don’t know if ‘s gonna fit…”

geto leans back just enough to get a clear path and spits, landing perfectly on your clit and dripping down to his length until he pulls out, sliding his cock against your slick pussy. the sight makes your jaw drop, and you find yourself no longer caring if it’ll hurt. 

“you can take it, baby,” lining back up with you, geto presses his lips to yours, soothing the pained gasps that spill out as he pushes in again. the burning, stretching sensation returns, but you find something so delicious in the pain, especially when he finally bottoms out and the only way you can describe the feeling is so, so full. “now… see? i knew you could do it. so, so good for me, yeah?”

“yes,” you manage to whimper, clawing at his beautifully crafted trapezius muscles over his shirt before tangling your hands into the long, dark hair at the back of his head. “suguru?”

“yes, baby?” geto’s voice sounds so different when he’s fighting the urge to fuck into you, fighting the vice grip of your perfect, tight pussy, fighting the voice in the back of his head that’s telling him to move. 

“please fuck me, suguru, please.”

you don’t have to tell him twice. the drag against your walls, the burn, the stretch as he pulls back just a few inches is sensational, making you grab a fistful of his black hair and tug. it makes geto moan, something so raspy and low that it sounds dangerous, and he snaps his hips back into you even though he’s trying not to hurt you. you cry out, not from a place of pain, but pleasure. 

it takes a few more slow, shallow thrusts for him to feel comfortable enough to find a real rhythm, but once he does, it’s brutal in the same way his tongue was. deliberate, controlled, sensual, intimate, so deep and so consistent. eventually, you’re rambling between moans about how big he is, how good he feels inside of you, how good you’re going to be for him, whiny voice choking up with each bed-shakingly strong roooll-snap! of geto’s hips up into yours.

geto makes no grand show of it, but he’s talkative, roughly whispering against your ear in response to every little babble that leaves your cockdrunk lips, each reply straying further from: “yeah, baby?” “i know, baby, i know ‘s so big, you’re doing such a good job,” and closer to: “god, talking like such a fucking slut,” “you’re so fucking nasty, the way your slutty pussy’s grippin’ me is so fucking nasty.”

you’ve never been one to appreciate such mean words in bed, but his voice, so harsh and so degrading, right against your ear has you coming undone right there in his lap, pussy gushing around his obscenely thick cock with the most desperate cry of his name. it only serves as encouragement for geto, who’s not far behind at all, to keep fucking you like you’re going to run from it if he lets up from his agonizing pace, crashing his lips against yours to hush your cries before he spills into you.

the position allows geto’s cum to seep out of you almost immediately, dripping down his length with each sloppy, uneven thrust up into you until he can feel it dripping down his rhythmically  constricting balls. 

it’s gradual, but when geto’s hips finally settle, still with you on his lap, he gently lets your legs down off of his shoulders while the two of you pant in silence. the hand once used to brace himself against the headboard cradles the back of your head to bring it to his chest, and the hand once used to grip your hip for security rubs over your back to soothe your tired body. 

“sorry about that,” geto mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss atop your head. “got a little rough.”

“‘s good, suguru. ‘m gonna need another shower i think.”

a/n: WHEWWWW y'all i'm pretty satisfied with this. i really hope y'all like it because i had so much fun writing it

@slutshamethesquirrels here you go ;)

[mayajadewrites]

could've been you - shouta aizawa x fem! reader, hawks x fem! reader

chapter twelve

✦ story synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: unprotected sex, fem! oral receiving

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

comments are ALWAYS loved and appreciated <3

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie @skazewrld @crimsonsaki

Waking up next to Shouta was better than you expected.

Much better.

His muscular, strong arms were wrapped around you the entire night, tightening around you randomly as he buried his face in your neck.

For a man who doesn't sleep much, he slept just fine with you.

Your lashes fluttered against his bare chest - what a sight.

You heard a grumble leave his lips as he felt the slight movement of your body. Your doe eyes watch his face as he slowly wakes up.

"Good morning beautiful." Aizawa's voice was deeper than usual. What you would do to hear it every day.

"Morning stinky." You giggled as his eyebrows raised.

"Stinky? Really?" His hands planted on your plush hips. "Say I'm stinky again."

"You're. Stinky." You smirked as he pulled you on top of him, moving himself onto his back. You pressed your hands to his chest, arching your back a bit as you looked down at him. "You're even stinky from up here."

Shouta fake gasped, tickling along your sides with his calloused fingers. A laugh, a real laugh left your lips as he tickled you, to which Shouta was fascinated with. He loves watching you smile and hear your laugh, even though it's not the conventional laugh.

"Take it back if you know what's good for you." Shouta teased, his fingers still poking and tickling your skin.

"I don't know what's good for me apparently." You raised your eyebrow.

"Fine." His large hand plunged into your shorts, finding your already wet heat. "Dirty girl, you're already wet." His index finger slid inside of you, curling as he pulls the digit in and out of you.

"Sh-Shouta." You feel your walls clench around his finger.

"Ah-ah." Shouta pressed his index finger on his other hand to your lips. "You can't come until I say you can. That's your punishment." He took the pad of his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles. gently.

"N-no fair." You whine, pressing your hands to your thick thighs.

"It's not fair that you called your boyfriend stinky." He slid another digit into your pussy. "I gave you a chance to take it back. Now you must suffer the consequences."

Shouta's thick fingers moved in and out of you as he massaged your clit in the most delicious way. You could feel your orgasm approaching, but you knew Shouta was not going to allow it.

He could feel it too. His fingers retreated from you, his hands slapping down on the fat of your ass as he pulls you roughly towards his face.

"O-oh!" Your breath hitched as you felt the contours of his face in your heat. Your bury your hands in his inky hair, feeling his tongue wrap around your clit.

"Mm, you taste better than I could ever imagine." The vibration of his words made the hair on your neck stand up.

"Sh-Sh-Shouta please." You pull on his hair, letting your head fall back. "You feel so good, please-"

"No." Shouta moved one hand from your ass to your clit, rubbing his thumb on the sore nub. "You need to learn to listen."

"I-I've learned my lesson." Your toes curl as he sucks on your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your gummy walls.

"I don't think so. Now shut up and let me enjoy my meal." His lips pulled from your body, his dark chocolate eyes finding yours. His eyes were filled with a lust that you've never seen in any man.

Like he would do anything to make you come. That he would do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

No, that's not just lust.

That's the look of love.

Even when he's punishing you, he still would do anything you asked. It took everything in him to keep to his word as he devoured you. Your juices danced on his tongue as he closed his eyes again.

"P-please." Your hands turn into fists as you feel your thighs twitch. "I can't hold on anymore."

"So impatient." He pulled away from your aching, throbbing pussy and pushed your body back down to his stomach. He shimmied his boxer briefs off and you felt his cock slap against your ass. "Think you can ride me?" He sat himself up, his eyes analyzing your face for an answer.

The absence of Shouta made you whimper as you nodded, keeping your eyes on his as you grab his length with your hand. You wrapped your dainty fingers around his shaft, watching his mouth hang open slightly as you lifted your body off his, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked slit.

His hands were desperately grasping at your ass, unlike the words he spewed just moments before.

Now he was begging for you.

Your pussy was too wet to even pretend that you could take him slowly. Shouta's large hands guided you onto his aching cock, bottoming out inside of you.

"So fucking wet." Shouta split you in half with his cock as he pushed himself into you. You rock your hips back and forth, your pussy clenching around his length. You tilt your head to the side, letting your mouth open slightly.

Shouta watched you as you rode him. What a beautiful sight this was. Your hair was messy from the night before, your cheeks a shade of pink from arousal, your lips swollen and plushy.

"Oh god, Shouta." You slid yourself up and down his cock, the sound of your ass cheeks hitting his thighs filling the room.

"Use my cock to fuck yourself, baby." A grunt escaped his lips as he thrusted upwards into you. He watched your eyes roll to the back of your head, your pussy clenching against his fat cock like it was about to tear open.

"P-please let me come." You whine, your dainty hand pushing against his chest. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he gulped, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Please what?" He could barely keep his composure. He knew you were about to break. He was, too.

"F-fuck, Shouta! Please, daddy let me come." He earned a moan from your beautiful lips.

His thrusts became messy and quick as you unraveled around his cock. It was the most mind blowing, delicious orgasm erupted inside of you. You rode out your high with him, your bodies so in tune with each other.

"Baby, yes." Shouta moaned, pulling your lips to his roughly as he thrusted inside of you one last time, letting his juices cover your walls. "God you are so amazing." His cock twitched inside of you as you both came down to earth.

You finally opened your eyes and looked at Shouta. You pressed your lips to his again, and again, and again. You smiled against his lips, your nails dragging along his scalp.

"You barely kissed me, Eraser." You pout as he lift yourself off of his length, a whimper leaving Shouta's lips at the loss of you.

"That was part of your punishment, you spoiled brat." His voice was smooth as he kissed your lips once more. "Can't say I liked not kissing you though. I'd much rather you behave so I don't have to do that again." His mouth formed into a smirk.

"I'll get my revenge." You maneuver yourself off of him. "After I brush my teeth." You pull his t-shirt from the night before over your body as Shouta watched your ass cheeks move against the fabric.

As you were brushing your teeth, you heard a knock on Shouta's door. You peeked your head out of the doorway of the bathroom, watching the muscles on Shouta's back move as he walked. His sweatpants were hanging from his hips lazily.

He opened the door and you saw red wings.

"She's here, isn't she?"

[astraystayyh]

hyunjin is your friend except you're making out in his car backseat. very suggestive so mdni. inspired by the song strangers.

"you want me to tell you how this will go between us?" you whisper, as hyunjin's nose brushes against yours softly.

"please," he says just as quietly, his thumb grazing your bottom lip in an agonizingly slow manner.

"we get in your car..." you begin, fingers reaching up to trace the contour of his face. so pretty for you. "and you'll lean to kiss me..." you let out breathlessly, and a curious smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"like this, you mean?" he says, before pressing your lips onto his softly. you sigh, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. he tastes so sweet, so addicting. you missed this little game you both had on.

"what next?" he questions, eyes still closed, chest heaving from the emotion coursing through him.

"we'll talk for hours..." you gently wipe the corners of his mouth, now tainted with your cherry lipstick. "and we'll lay on the backseat."

"oh, yeah?" he smiles, his dimple peeking on his right cheek. adorable, if not for the fact that he's lowering you on the said backseat now, before hovering over you. his arms are on either side of your body, caging you in, not that you'd ever dream of escaping.

"and then one random night, when everything changes, you won't reply..." you pout, as you entwine his golden necklace between your fingers, tugging him slowly towards you. "and we'll go back to strangers."

"is that what you think will happen, pretty? that I'd forget you?" he asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek tenderly. then your chin. then the curve of your neck, down to your collarbones. it's a featherlight touch, but the anticipation of what it might turn into is killing you.

"won't you? forget me, i mean?" you grin cheekily, as you interlock your hands behind his neck, bringing his face, much, much closer to yours.

"i won't," he says with a sincerity that catches you off guard. "not when you're you."

a newfound emotion tugs at your heartstrings. it's not lust, no, this is... warm and nice and you don't want to dive into it, into the consequences of what it might change between you both.

"well, i don't know. maybe i will be the one forgetting you," you smile teasingly, as his necklace dangles over your face.

"then i have to give you something to remember me by, don't i?"

"you do," you sigh dreamily, as his lips suddenly suck on the tender skin of your neck. your hands are tangled in his soft black hair, and you know you're lying. you couldn't ever forget him. not when he's hyunjin and you're in the backseat of his car. and his plump lips are on you alone.

[doumadono]

Congratulations! I want to order a raspberry icecream, served in a sandwich, with some maple syrup, cherries and whipped cream on top! (for kink, please do asphyxiophilia and pyrolagnia) - and I want to share my icecream with no one else but Dabi.

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!reader, pussy fingering/eating, very rough p in v, dom!Dabi, orgasm denial, pyrolagnia & asphyxiophilia, oral (f & m receiving), facial, quirk use

A/N: thank you very much for your support, dear Anonnie!

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Dabi had always been a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. His gaze, intense and burning, would follow you around the room, setting your skin ablaze with anticipation. His touch, rough and demanding, would send shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that only he could quench.

Today, the air was thick with tension, the scent of smoke still clinging to his clothes.

You, ever the doting girlfriend, tended to his wounds, your touch gentle and soothing as you sat comfortably on his lap.

But Dabi craved something else, something more primal. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched you cleaning his wounds, his mind filled with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you.

Your eyes met his, and you could see the hunger in them.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "My little flame." His breath was hot against the tender skin of the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip in anticipation.

Dabi's hands moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it gently from behind. He applied a slight pressure, just enough to make your heart race.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt a rush of adrenaline. His touch was intoxicating, his dominance thrilling. "D-Dabi… Let… Me…. Finish…" you whimpered breathlessly.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to speak. You trusted him with your life, and you knew he would never hurt you.

Dabi's lips captured yours in a searing kiss after he caught your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it into his direction, his tongue invading your mouth as he deepened the kiss. His hands moved from your neck to your shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and pushing it off your shoulders with deliberation. He broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your body appreciatively. "You're so fucking beautiful, princess," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His hands moved to your bra, unclasping it and tossing it aside. Dabi bounced you on his knee, urging you to stand up, and you complied like the good girl you were. His fingers trailed down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your skirt. He unzipped it, letting it fall to the floor. Dabi's fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them down your legs.

You stepped out of them, now completely naked in front of him.

Dabi got up from the chair as well. He gripped your plump ass, pulling your naked form against him, letting you feel the hardness of his cock straining against his pants. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, every soft, inviting contour as he was making out with you.

You moaned into his mouth, your trembling hands fumbling with his belt. You freed his cock, your fingers wrapping around its girth, stroking it slowly.

Dabi groaned, his hips thrusting forward, seeking more of your sweet touch. Finally, he broke the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. He pushed you roughly onto the nearby couch. He needed to feel your soft skin against his, marked with countless scars, to feel your heat. He needed to be inside you.

Dabi took a moment to appreciate your beauty. Your breasts, full and firm, your nipples hard and begging for his attention. Your pussy, smooth and glistening with anticipation. He could see your desire, smell it, taste it in the air.

Dabi lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path from your navel to your clit. He licked you, tasted you, his tongue delving into your slick folds, making you writhe beneath him. He sucked on your clit, his fingers sliding into your cunny, preparing you for his cock.

Your moans filled the room, your hands gripping his hair as Dabi brought you to the brink of orgasm. But he didn't let you fall, not yet. He had other plans.

You lay down on your back, watching as he undressed. His body was a work of art, muscular and toned, with scars that only added to his appeal.

Dabi climbed onto the couch, his body hovering over yours. Dabi's mouth moved to your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple.

You moaned, your hands tangling in his raven black hair as you pulled him closer. His teeth grazed your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Dabi," you gasped, your body trembling with need.

Suddenly, Dabi's hand was around your neck again, applying pressure as he continued to abuse your buds.

You gasped, your body trembling as you felt your orgasm hit you. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Dabi released your neck, giving you a moment to catch your breath. The head of his cock nudged at your slick entrance. He pushed into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours.

You moaned, your pussy stretching to accommodate him.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hips moving in slow, steady thrusts. His cock filled you completely, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. And then he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming against yours, your bodies slapping together in a rhythm as old as time. Dabi's cock was pounding into you with a force that should have hurt, but didn't. It was just what you needed, what you craved.

Dabi's hand moved to your neck again, applying pressure as he continued to fuck you.

You gasped, your body trembling as you felt another knot building within your lower tummy. His thrusts became harder, faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with each thrust.

As Dabi fucked you, he reached for his belt he had left on the floor beside the couch. He wrapped it around you neck, pulling it tight, just enough to restrict your breathing.

Your eyes widened, your moans turning into gasps.

"Do you like that, bitch?" Dabi asked, his voice a low growl. "Do you like it when I choke you while I fuck your tiny pussy numb, huh!?"

You could only nod, your watery eyes rolling back in your head as the lack of oxygen heightened your pleasure.

Dabi released the rope, allowing you to gasp for breath. He flipped you over, laying himself right behind you. He entered your pussy from behind, his cock sliding into you with ease. He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

You reached your hand back and loosely wrapped it around his neck as he moved his hand from between your thighs to squeeze your breasts. You loved it when he took you in this position, occasionally pressing your knees together with his rough hand, firmly gripping the softness of your breasts at times, or squeezing your upper hip, sometimes leaving bruises where his fingers had been.

Suddenly, his palm gripping your breast began to heat up. Shocked, you turned your head back and whispered, "Dabi?" as you felt the burning sensation on your skin.

He hushed you, saying, "Shhhh, shhhhh, it's okay, it's alright, you can take it, bitch." Then, he slapped your ass with his warmed-up hand, leaving a burning, red mark.

You yelped and instinctively tried to get away, but his cock was still buried deep inside you.

He moved his hand previously placed under your head to wrap around your neck, cutting off your airways once again. "You ain't going anywhere, bitch," he snapped through gritted teeth. And then he thrust forcefully into you at a relentless pace, causing all the remaining air to be forced out of your lungs when you tried to scream his name, begging for his mercy.

"D-D…." You couldn't sound a single word, only trying to gasp, making a gargling sounds.

He reveled in your vulnerability, knowing you were completely at his mercy. It was then that he withdrew his cock from you, slapping your ass once more in the same spot where his handprint lingered on your soft skin. "On your damn knees, bitch," he commanded.

You gasped for air as his hand left your neck. Clumsily rolling off the couch and kneeling in front of him, you reached for his cock, fully covered in your glossy slickness. Hastily, you slipped the head past your lips and began sucking.

"Use your tongue well for me, or I'll have to discipline you," he cautioned, as a beautiful blue flame flickered in the palm of his open hand. "And I wouldn't want to harm my beautiful girl. It would be such a shame, wouldn't it?"

You responded with an agreeing sound, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, skillfully maneuvering your flexed tongue to massage the underside of his cock. You rested your hands on his thighs for support as you deepthroated him. Suddenly, you felt a burning sensation on your forearms. Looking up, you realized Dabi was touching them with his long digits. Each fingertip emitted a blazing blue flame that scorched your skin, causing the scent of sulfur from burning hair to fill the air. You yelped in pain and tried to pull away, but Dabi pressed one hand against the back of your head, forcing you closer to his pelvis. You gagged uncontrollably, saliva streaming from your mouth and nose, while tears welled up in your eyes as you teetered on the brink of consciousness.

"Be a good girl and make me cum. I want my seed to dribble down that sweet, tight throat," groaned Dabi, thrusting his hips, penetrating your mouth as he pleased, causing you to gag even more.

You did your best, just as he had taught you many times before. With one hand, you cupped his tight ball sack, gently squeezing it between your fingers and occasionally teasing with your nails while your head moved up and down his dick.

In all his mercy, Dabi took a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back.

You gasped for air, tears and saliva dripping down your cheeks and chin as you looked up at him. Instinctively, you grasped his cock and started jerking him, sensing how much it throbbed under your touch, indicating the nearing peak.

The flames on Dabi's finger grew brighter as he watched you working your hand on him. He, of course, didn't stop himself from teasing your naked skin with his flames again, making you cry out in pain mixed with heightened arousal. Apparently, it turned him on as well, as he hissed loudly. In the next second, he came, his cock pulsing as he shot his thick, pearly cum on your face.

You managed to catch some of his seed in your open mouth, sticking out your tongue, tasting his release on your taste buds. "What a shame you didn't cum in my pussy," you whined sadly, your voice raspy from all the screaming and gagging.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. "Not today, doll, I'm too tired."

You wiped your face from the spit and cum with your hands. "So… Maybe I will finish patching you up now?"

Dabi rested his arms on the back of the couch, watching you nested between his spread legs, your body naked and abused, covered in red marks. "Later. I need a shower. And I gotta praise you, doll."

You tilted your head. "For what?"

"I didn't realize you were such a tough cunt, allowing me to handle you my way, and we both know I'm far from being gentle," he chuckled, sighing shortly after. "But I think I'm starting to enjoy your biddability."

[abibliophobiaa]

One word prompts are so hard for me cause they could go an infinite direction but what about the word Cherry with Steve?

don’t you call him ‘baby’

steve harrington x f!reader. angst with a happy ending. [2k]

——

There’s a cherry red stain on the edge of the grainy photo. The color of your favorite lipstick — the same color still on the collar of his old jean jacket. He'll never get rid of it, he’s decided long ago now. You’re smiling back at him, captured forever in this picture, the sunset behind you, a hand hiking up one side of your flowing dress, the fabric backlit by the orange sky, highlighting the curves of your silhouette. He doesn’t even need the photo to remember the way it feels for his hands to travel the pathway of your side, your hip, the contours of your thighs. And the memories of that day hit him like a freight train all the same, like it was only yesterday.

Your hand is in his as he peels away from the curb at Max and Lucas’ new place in California. Sun streaks across the sky still, his sunglasses perched high on his nose. He feels you squeeze him tighter, thumb stroking lovingly along his knuckles. He turns his head and captures your gaze, your mouth a firm line, eyes round and soft. Sad.

“You okay?” you ask, and he realizes that sadness is for him. Heart practically shatters at that, because you know him deeply — just as you’ve always known over the years without him ever uttering a word.

His lip wobbles, but he doesn’t cry, tries not to at least. Even so, you gather the tear that eventually streams down his face. Thumb it away so tenderly it’s like you’re trying to capture it — to encapsulate this moment. Max is gone, Lucas is starting a new career, Dustin is off to college with El, Will, and Mike. Robin’s getting married soon. And he’s peering at everyone through the window, wishing them well, watching them slip away with the passing of time.

Everything is changing, yet you remain, and though it aches to see his life changing so quickly and suddenly, you’re a constant. The thought alone has him leaning over at a red light and kissing you soundly on the lips, hands in your hair at the back of your head, his cheeks flaming hot when the light turns green and someone slams on the horn behind him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you muse softly, a little to yourself, head against the doorframe, free hand twirling in the wind out the window, catching sunlight in the palm of your hand. “That sign says there’s a beach up ahead. I want to put my feet in the water.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand, thinking how he can’t wait to marry you one day. “Okay, honey.”

Soon enough you’re both running along the beach with your hands tangled together. You’re spinning. Twirling. Laughing as he turns you round and around on the beach, sand between your toes, sun kissing his skin, blissful words punctuated by lingering kisses. There’s a blanket strewn out nearby you brought along and laid out, shoes discarded, your newest book propped open on its front. Beside that is the camera he brought along for the trip, the same one he rushes away to grab, chest splitting in two at the wide smile that breaks along your face.

You’re perfect. Everything he could ever want and more in a person. Beautiful beyond whatever measure a camera could ever capture you within. The photo slides out and slowly develops. The same photo you hold pinched between your fingertips as you later drive back to your hotel, bringing your lips to the bare corner, leaving a cherry red stain behind.

“Give me your wallet,” you reach an arm out and he slaps the leather within, the picture sliding into an empty slot. “Now you’ll always have me with you.”

Such sweet words — if only you had known.

He’s not sure how it happened. How that one perfect day became a memory. He still remembers the feel of your warm skin after hours on the beach spent kicking up sand, dancing in the waves, falling into fits of laughter as you eventually fell back onto a blanket, hands tangled together as tightly knit as your hearts. Later you’d pulled him down against you in that hotel bed, blocked out the rest of the world, and relished the feel of two souls wound together like one. You whispered forever against his throat as he later curled you against his chest, with the sound of his heartbeat a promise to lull you into sleep.

But things changed. His anxiety after Vecna grew, he buried himself in a job he didn’t even want at his father’s company to run from it. Work became too much — distance between you grew, him on trips that drew him further and further away from Hawkins. He pushed you away, he knew it, you knew it, though neither wanted to admit it out loud. At first you fought about it, about how you wanted forever but forever couldn’t look like this if you wanted it to stand the test of time. And then the apartment grew silent. Screaming matches turned into quiet sobs before bed, when you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he did every time. The distance became a chasm, too far to broach.

Then you left. Packed your things one morning and chose yourself. He understood. Of course he did. Still it didn’t make anything better. Didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

Now he sits in the middle of your — his — bed staring at the photo of you. The box of things he kept of yours through the years stored beneath his bed, even after Eddie suggested he might want to put it away in a closet or something. It’s been six months, six months of not turning over every morning to find you already awake and propped up beside him, wanting the first thing he sees every morning to be your smiling face. Six months of wondering what you’re doing, wondering who you’re talking to, wondering if you’ve moved on.

He gets his answer that night.

Eddie’s shoving Steve along beside him. Clothes cling to sweaty bodies in the packed bar. Robin couldn’t make it, so the two decide on a ‘boy’s night out.’ They’ve not had one in a bit, since Chrissy’s just given birth to their first baby a couple months ago. But she practically pushes him out the door that night, promising her and their new son will be fine, that he deserves a fun night with his friend.

Only it’s far from fun. With July came the hottest weather Hawkins has seen all year. ‘A record breaking high,’ the news stations tout. All Steve knows is his jeans feel tighter than usual, his skirt is stuck to his sweaty back, and the woman he loves is standing at the bar with a man Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Don’t look,” Eddie warns, as though it’s not already too late. As if Steve’s not drawn to you like a magnet, even after all this time. “He could be a friend, or something.”

He could be. But the man is reaching over to rest a hand over your forearm, head bent low, eyes wide, and clearly engaged in whatever story you’re telling him. Steve’s not surprised. It’s one of his favorite things about you: this way you seem to captivate every room you walk into. Like he’s in your orbit, circling around you, pulled in close by your mere aura. Anyone who knows you loves you, he thinks — and they’re lucky for it. He’d been lucky for a time, too.

“Steve, stop torturing yourself,” Eddie says, giving his friend’s shoulder a little wiggle. “Here — let me go grab us some beers. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything hasty.”

Steve shakes his head. What’s he going to do? Scream. Cry. Beg for you to come back. No — instead he watches. Feels his chest ache as you throw your head back in a laugh at something your date must say, hiding your smile against the lip of your glass, suddenly bashful when your eyes flicker up and clash with Steve’s. The drink in your hand falls and shatters and people rush to clean it up. Your date scrambles to find a stack of napkins, dabs at the front of your blouse, the gesture lost to you as you stay staring ahead, held in place by a ghost of your past.

Suddenly, like a light bulb flashing in your mind, you snap back to attention. He watches the bob of your throat on a swallow, the long rise and fall of your chest on your deep inhale and exhale, the forceful smile that curls your lips as you return your focus to your date.

The moment slips away as Eddie returns to the table, glasses in hand.

——

He’s not sure how he ends up here. Standing in your doorway, the ‘exit’ sign at the end of your hall flickering in the night. Your palm splays against the open door, mouth agape, eyes on his face, blinking frantically like you might think he’s an apparition.

“Please don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend.” Please don’t tell me you call him ‘baby.’ He hates himself for the tears that glimmer like pools in his eyes, hates as you reach up to cover his cheek when the first spills down his skin. “Damn it — I had a whole speech and I —” His voice breaks, throat closing around his words. You’re on your toes, face in his collar bone, clinging to him like he’s the very thing keeping you afloat at sea. “I quit my job, I started therapy, I’m not saying it excuses anything but —”

“Come with me,” you whisper, dropping back onto your heels, pajama shorts ruffling around your thighs.

Heat blooms in his belly as your fingers knit with his, dragging you further into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s very you. All your favorite colors and things, movies strewn about the living room floor, the grainy static humming on a television screen. A pot of half-eaten macaroni is left on a stove top, a plant on your kitchen table, books on a little shelf on a corner leading to a hallway. Lived in.

“Sit on the bed,” you demand as he slips inside your bedroom.

The blankets are messy, like you’ve risen from a nap recently. A stuffed animal he won you at a carnival rests beside your pillow, well-loved, as the fur is no longer as fluffy as it once had been. He watches stiffly as you reach down beneath your bed and pull out a shoebox. In your lipstick, you’ve written “Us” and decorated the top of the box with dozens of little stickers accumulated over the years. In awe, his gaze trails your hands as they pluck item after item collected throughout the years together. That first Scoops Ahoy napkin where he wrote his phone number down, that strip of photos at the photo booth at a carnival, your plush toy between your bodies as he kissed you that first time, a shirt of his from high school days that still smelled like him when you breathed deep enough, the little stack of Polaroids with all your memories scattered within. Early dates, holidays, Valentine’s Day, trips out of town with Robin, photos with the kids. Memories frozen in time of a life that feels so long ago — a life he still craves more than anything.

“I never got rid of them,” you mutter thoughtfully, holding up a photo of him napping on a lawn chair at his parent’s house, skin tanned, chest bare, marker scribbles by the kids on his face in the shape of glasses. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“Me neither,” he swallows, inhaling sharply as your forehead rests against his. “I know I can’t…I know I messed up and I can’t take that back. But you deserve the world and I want it to be with me.”

“You’re going to give me the world, Harrington?” You tease, and he can almost hear the laughter in your voice as you reach down between the two of you to shove the memory box aside.

“If you’ll let me.”

“You have a lot of groveling to do,” you murmur, and he can feel your lips brush his, just a whisper, softly enough he wonders if he’s dreaming, “starting with this.”

He kisses you. One for every day he’s gone without. Until you’re falling onto your back and gazing up at him with stars in your eyes, fingers trailing his bare chest, lingering along the heart that thumps wildly beneath, singing of a forever.

——

[shycoconutt]

Fantasy Girl (Choso Kamo x Reader)

MDNI (18+)

Choso Kamo was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. His heart began to pound in his ears, his face flushed a bright cherry red, and he felt a burning arousal in the pit of his stomach. 

You weren't just beautiful, no, you were picture-perfect. When he locked eyes on your figure, the way your body swayed when you walked by, your choice of dress, your smooth skin, the contour of your face, the way your hair flowed in the wind, he was instantly transported back to his boyhood.

The nights he would spend alone, listening to music and sketching his ideal lover with pen and paper. He would meticulously pick out all of his favorite aspects of a woman and use his imagination to conjure images of her in different positions. Some were sweet and innocent, but most were highly provocative in nature. Pleased with himself, he would save his drawings in his sketchbook, and still, to this day, pulls them out every once in a while when he wants to get off to something as pure as his deepest, most sincere fantasy.

But, here you are, his woman, his girl, in the flesh. He has the primal urge to kiss the ground you walk on, to worship you like a goddess, to give you whatever you desire and more, oh so much more.

So when he finally gets you into bed, laid out all pretty for him, he can’t resist his desire to touch himself and cum just from looking at you. He owes himself this moment, to drink in your mere existence. Standing at the foot of his bed, he strips in front of you and takes note of the way your eyes trail up and down his body with a lick of your lips.

Wanting to put on a show for you, he brings one hand down to squeeze his pink tip, slowly spreading his pre over the sensitive skin, while his other hand comes up to squeeze his pecks.

“What do you think, pretty girl? Is my body good enough for you? Is it up to your standards?” Choso huffs out, bringing the hand on his cock down to stroke his whole length.

You nod, taking your plush bottom lip in between your teeth. Choso watches as your hands come down to the bottom hem of your shirt, planning to strip for him as well. But that’s not what he wants, not yet at least.

“No, baby, leave everything on,” Choso says between moans, “I want to look at you just as you are.” In this moment, he believes he hasn’t earned you yet, not all of you.

The subtle flash of confusion in your eyes makes him chuckle. You are so sweet, so beautiful, so amazing. Involuntarily, Choso pumps his cock with more ferocity, his ab muscles flexing in response. He is close, and he must act before it’s too late.

“Do me a favor, my love,” Choso nods towards his bedside table, “Open the drawer, take out the sketchbook, and flip through some pages for me.”

He sees your hesitation, but you ultimately comply with his wishes. He watches as your body contorts to reach over to the side of the bed, using the moment to marvel at the curve of your ass. His hand squeezes tighter, imagining what you’d look like bent over in front of him.

Snapping back to reality, he sees the green sketchbook placed on your lap, your fingers about to turn to open a page. “Good girl,” he muses.

Choso makes sure to study your face while you examine the first few pictures, not wanting to miss any emotion that crosses your expression. He feels his hands tingle in anticipation. Do you see it? Do you understand? 

He feels like all his prayers have been answered as a small gasp escapes your lips, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Choso…” you begin.

“Yes, baby? Tell me,” Choso is now curling into himself, not letting up on how he pumps his cock, now hot with desperation to release. His long, black hair falls onto his face, which he quickly brushes away with his other hand to keep eye contact with you.

“This is-,” you stutter, “is this me?” 

“Yes,” Choso grunts, “yes, sweet girl, it’s you.” 

“But we-” 

“But we just met?” he finishes for you, “Yes, I know baby. I drew these before you. When I was younger, I would imagine my fantasy girl. The girl I want to give my heart to, give everything to.”

The way your eyes gloss over with emotion, soaking in his words, makes Choso crumble. He notices how you subtly clench your thighs together, rubbing them for friction. You were reacting positively. Good.

“I didn’t know it then, but I wasn’t imagining you, I was envisioning you.” This is it, he is spent, about to release his seed out into his hands. Baring it all for you, like an offering.

What he doesn't anticipate is how you swiftly place the drawings next to you, sitting up on the bed to crawl towards the man. Choso sees a familiar glint in your eye, one of determination and lust. He’s taken aback.

“What are you-”

“I know you want to take your time with me, take things slow, but,” Choso’s grip around his length is carefully peeled off by your small fingers, only to be placed in your hair, “I don’t believe you envisioned just releasing in your hand or on the floor. Tsk, we wouldn’t want to waste it, right baby?”

Choso’s staggered breath catches in his throat as your hands come up to explore his abdomen, slowly grazing each muscle in his defined abs. After making your way down, each hand curls around his shaft, and Choso can’t help the drawn-out moan he gives when you give him a light squeeze. 

With half-lidded eyes, he watches as your glossy lips come to kiss him at his tip, sticking out your tongue to lightly lick the pre cum oozing out of his slit. He can’t help but revel in every small movement, body threatening to snap.

“Oh, gods, I can’t-” he gasps, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Only if you promise your dedication to me,” you smirk, looking up at him devilishly, “From here on out, your cum belongs to me. You understand?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise, oh gods, I’m only yours. All of my cum is yours. Now plea-”

In one quick movement, you took Choso’s full length down your throat, releasing your jaw and bobbing aggressively. Your hands leave his cock to grip both sides of his waist, using all your strength to fuck his body into you.

“Nnnn-aaaaaah,” he can’t hold it back any longer, gripping the back of your head, Choso brings you fully flush to his body as he dumps his seed down your throat. His cock pulses with every thick rope that spurts out of him.

After a pause and feeling your throat tighten, he brings your face off of him, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and a string of your spit connect your mouth to his tip. Still, in your exasperated state, you manage to give him the warmest smile he’s ever seen, nose scrunched and eyes closed tightly. Like a magnet, Choso’s hands come up to cradle your face.

No one, absolutely no one, has ever looked this beautiful. He's sure of it.

[heauxvibez]

Goodnight Kiss

warning: nothing too crazy, mentions of lady parts tingling and a moan. But other than that, this is short and sweet : )

"I appreciate you taking me out tonight. That was the most fun I've had in a while," you softly smiled, feeling a giddy warmth as he walked you to your door. His smirk deepened as he glanced down, hands tucked casually into his pockets. His muscular figure towered over yours, if you hadn't known how much of a gentle giant he was, it was easy to feel intimidated.

This was your first date with Leati Joseph Anoa'i, affectionately known as Joe, the person you'd harbored a crush on since the 10th grade. Your accidental reunion at Robeks, your favorite smoothie spot, reignited those old feelings the moment you started chatting. And when he asked you out, you couldn't resist saying yes.

As the years passed, he evolved into a masterpiece, aging like the finest wine, each sip more intoxicating than the last. His once timid demeanor now exuded strength and confidence, drawing you closer with every step. His skin, now kissed by the sun, held a mesmerizing bronze hue, a far cry from the paleness of his youth. And oh, his facial hair, it contoured his face beautifully, emphasized every captivating feature. Perfect then, yes, but now, he was an embodiment of perfection beyond belief. Dressed in a sleek black suit, with a simple white T-shirt underneath, he oozed sophistication, the fabric clinging to his form, teasingly highlighting the muscles that yearned to be explored by your hands.

"I'm just glad I could bring a smile to your face, beautiful. You deserve it," he replied, his perfect smile causing a delightful blush to spread across your cheeks. He was absurdly charming.

"Well, I should probably head inside and get ready for bed. Early start at work tomorrow," you said, extending your arms for a hug.

He embraced you tightly, a playful squeeze making you squeal with laughter and him chuckle. Pulling back just enough, he paused for a bit before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then trailing his lips lower, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline.

Your body tensed, hands still clasped around his neck, caught in a moment of uncertainty and anticipation. The possibility of what he might do left you breathless, your first kiss looming on the horizon. Every beat of your heart echoed in the quiet space between you, something you swore he could hear.

It felt like paralysis. Every fiber of your being yearned to utter his name, to express the handful of sensations running through you, but your body betrayed you, rendered motionless, held captive by the potent spell he cast by his soft, plump lips. The feeling was both daunting and intoxicating, a thin line between fear and excitement.

He planted a sweet kiss on your nose before his fingers delicately lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a silent exchange in his eyes, he paused with a lick of his lips and slightly shook his head in disbelief as his eyes slowly washed over your face.

"You are so damn beautiful, you know that?" he questioned, your heart fluttered at the compliment. You were thanking God that he blessed you with your deep melanin skin because your face would be as red as a cherry tomato. He was making you so nervous, you didn't even know how to respond.

"Think so?" you softly questioned, internally face-palming at your response.

With a nod, his features softened and his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

"Know so." he responded with a breathy chuckle. Little did you know, you were taking away his breath as well.

He leaned in slowly, a hint of hesitation in his movements, silently offering you an opportunity to retreat if you wanted. But you leaned in as well, encouraging him to close the distance. His touch, initially gentle on your chin, migrated to cupping your face, while his left arm drew you nearer, enveloping you in his embrace. As his lips met yours, a wave of warmth surged through you, releasing the tension you had been holding. Your bodies melded seamlessly, and you found yourself swept away in the rhythm of the kiss. Though inexperienced, you gave in to the moment, surprised by the ease with which you followed his lead.

As if you weren't overstimulated enough, he moaned into your mouth, almost setting you ablaze. He made you want to tap out and it was only a kiss.

Sadly, you felt him slowly pull away but not without planting one last tender kiss against your lips. He still lingered close, his lips adorned with a gentle smile that spoke volumes of the connection you shared.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips.

"Goodnight.." you whispered back, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions as your high school crush had given you your first kiss.

----------------------

Omg okay, I don't want to overwhelm yall, let me know when to stop lololol

Also, anyone who wants to be added to the tag list please DM me!!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories: The Sponser

Yandere Afab Vampire x Afab Vampire Hunter Reader

For my dear friend @corvlth

Eclectic. Odd. Bizarre. Out of the box. Those were all ways one would describe Duchess Evaline Bohéme. She was known to be an eccentric artist who’d much rather spend her time painting than socializing with other nobles.

There was no point socializing with humans in her mind. It didn’t matter how many centuries went by or how often she changed her name, human nobles remained the same. Greedy and selfish.

Which made issues arise. She didn’t want to marry nor did she want to date. Evaline lost herself in her oil paintings, dedicating every fiber in her being to the vibrant colors and the soft contours of a figment of her imagination.

But that was until she met her. (Your name), the vampire hunter. A gruff and tenacious woman who took the social world by storm by being out of the norm. A woman doing a man’s job? It was unheard of… and it fascinated the duchess.

People underestimated the huntress because of her gender but Evaline didn’t. She could feel it from her place in the shadows that the huntress was far more capable than the hunters before her. So how could Evaline obtain her?

Evaline would sell out her brethren. If (your name) hunted all the other vampires, then (your name) would trust her. Maybe she’d open her heart to Evaline? The thought made the Duchess giddy.

Evaline watched (your name) from her perch of her bedroom window. Her violet eyes memorizing every part of the scarred huntress’s face. In Evaline’s eyes, she was the most magnificent creature she’s ever seen.

Evaline swore if she had a heartbeat, it would have stopped when they locked eyes. That her cheeks would blush a cherry red under the huntress’s strong gaze. She was enamored.

(Your name) took the small bag of gold from the butler. The huntress tipped the brim of her hat down as a sign of respect.

Evaline sunk to her knees, the wood splintered under her hands from the force she fell with when (your name) climbed on top of her horse and rode off.

Evaline wanted her… and Evaline would have her. Whether in this life or the next.