— READING BETWEEN THE LINES
pairing: suguru geto x f!reader
tags: dc, noncon, fingering, forced orgasm, pwp, use of pet names (sweetheart), suguru being condescending lol
wc: 1.4k
summary: Breaking up with Suguru doesn't go as well as you had hoped.
a/n: idk what possessed me ngl! writing warmup that got out of hand ig lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight! ao3 link here.
This is always the worst part, the anticipation of the unknown. You dragged Suguru into a private corner of the monastery, stating that you needed to talk to him about something important. Part of you hopes he won’t notice that something is clouding your mind, but another part of you knows how perceptive he can be – of shifting eyes, a nervous shake of the leg. Anything he sees can be interpreted and used against you. It’s just too much for you, to constantly live under his judgment and surveillance.
Once inside the room, you ask Suguru to sit down in an armchair in the corner, because when he’s at a lower height you can convince yourself he’s not nearly as intimidating as he actually is. He almost looks normal when you look down at him. But then his amber eyes catch yours, and you feel like a deer in headlights.
Breath, hold, let it out slowly.
“I think we should see other people,” you say, nearly hushed.
Suguru takes a moment to pause, before looking up at you with a smile. It’s not the reaction you wanted.
“You think?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you wouldn’t do all of this to tell me you’re thinking of doing something.”
He’s right; you don’t like that. It only makes you uneasier, inhale shakily and exhale just as unstable.
“We should see other people,” you sigh, a knot tightening in your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, opting to stare down at the ornate patterns on the carpet, anywhere but him.
“Where’s your spirit?” he asks, pouting and high-pitched, as if he’s talking down to a child, “you sound horribly unconvincing.”
You were foolish to ever think you would have an advantage against Suguru in a war of words. He’s always a few steps ahead of you, quick to retort any thought that takes days for you to mold and craft. Still, you do your best. This would be the last time anyways.
“W-we should see other people,” you repeat, attempting to sound resolute only for your voice to betray you, wavering like a tree branch in a windstorm.
“We both see plenty of people here,” he says, leaning back into the chair to sink into the fabric, his posture even more relaxed than before, “I don’t see why you dragged me in here to say this.”
For the first time, frustration overwhelms your nerves, swirls in your chest and manifests into something loud and impulsive.
“Suguru, I’m breaking up with you,” you blurt out.
An uneasy silence permeates through the room, and you feel the need to smother it. Unfortunately, any semblance of a coherent thought, much less a sentence, eludes you.
“Tell me what you really want.” Suguru says, the first to break it. You start to think the silence was better.
“I am.”
“No, you aren’t. I know you aren’t,” he says so matter-of-factly you’re close to believing him, “say it again.” Suguru shifts in the seat until he’s leaning forward, hands intertwined and planted in his lap.
“N-No, you’re just messing with me,” you say, backing away from him.
“That should be my line,” he sighs, standing from his seat. He takes a step towards you and your heart trembles. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just-”
“Nothing’s wrong but you want to break up?” he interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares at you.
“No, I mean-” you fumble your words, unsure how to mitigate the situation. Suguru takes another step towards you, and you take another one back.
“Mean what?” The corners of his lips upturn, and you both know he has you cornered.
You stand there, finally at a loss for words. Even if you were able to articulate your thoughts, you know that Suguru would twist them in his favor.
“See? You don’t even know what you want,” he says, condescension dripping from his words before he softens his tone into something gentler. The way you would speak to a wounded animal. “But it’s okay, because I do.”
Suguru takes the opportunity to close the distance, taking your hand into his and pulling you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and you writhe under his touch, desperately pushing him away. But all you get is an arm latched around your waist, the sensation of your bodies pressed together in a suffocating heat. His lips finally part from yours, and you rush to turn your face away from his.
“Suguru, please stop,” you whimper.
“Why? You’ll just lie again,” he answers, his hand reaching for your chin to turn you towards him, “don’t you know how much that hurts me?” he asks, voice too sweet to be genuine.
You do your best to keep your eyes away from him, the only form of protest you can afford right now. He’s unphased by it, releasing his grip on your chin to lift the hem of your skirt and trace the undeniable wet spot on your underwear.
“And it seems like your body is more honest than your words,” he whispers dangerously low in your ear, as if it’s a dirty secret he had the privilege of uncovering. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but you don’t have much of a choice.
He pulls your underwear down, lets it fall unceremoniously onto the floor. Before long, his fingers find your clit and you wince at the contact. You bite down on your lips when he starts drawing lazy circles, not wanting to give him any more ammunition to use against you.
“You don’t actually want to leave, do you?” he whispers sweetly, and it makes your breath catch for all the wrong reasons. His fingers slowly but surely pick up the pace, and it gets harder to choke back your moans. You attempt to maneuver yourself away from his touch, but that only makes him press himself harder against you, tightening his grip against your waist.
“You’re just misbehaving because I haven’t given you enough attention, right? Then I’ll give you all the attention you want.”
“Suguru, please, I don’t want this,” you cry, and it’s nowhere close to convincing, too high-pitched and whiny.
“We’ve got to work on your communication skills, sweetheart. They’re a hallmark of a good relationship, you know. And I only want the best with you,” he coos, almost songlike. His fingers build up to a steady pace and you feel your muscles involuntarily tighten, prepare yourself for the climax to come.
“We can even try it now. Tell me, how does this feel?” He slips a finger in and you writhe under his grip.
“Suguru, stop!” you squeal, tears forming in your eyes, making the colors of the room blend and blur together.
“Don’t think that’s the right answer,” he says in that patronizing tone again, and you can hear the pout in his voice. As punishment he slips in another finger, and within moments he’s bullying the spot that has you crying from pleasure like he’s done so many times before. Your fingers grip around his arm, nails digging into his skin and leaving crescent indents in his skin, but Suguru is nothing if not determined.
“I just don’t see why you’d want to leave when I do all of this for you.” The arm around your waist finally releases, only for his other hand to trace the curves of your body until it reaches your clit. He starts building the pressure again, slow circles to contrast against the rapid pace of his fingers.
Your breathing destabilizes as your muscles tense up again against your will. You know you’re getting close, which means Suguru knows as well.
“Let it all out for me, sweetheart,” And you do, body shivering and walls clamping around his finger like a vice. The rush of heat and pleasure running through you is too much, and you fall back onto old habits, closing your eyes and moaning his name like a mantra as he guides you through your climax. Suguru only pulls himself out of you once your breathing stabilizes, when you finally come out of your postorgasmic daze and the tears start running down your cheeks.
He gently holds your face, rubbing the tears with his thumb before laying a soft kiss on your cheek.
“If this is what you wanted, you should’ve told me. Spare me the theatrics next time, okay?”
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hi bae i recently followed you and i love every single thing you’ve posted,,, idk if this is a safe space but… like hitting art… him letting you and telling you he loves you and kissing you after
omg this is definitely a safe space babe let’s talk about this!!
hi this is my public service announcement that this is not a healthy relationship dynamic and you not ever put your hands on your partner. that is not okay irl unless there is expressed consent. this is also a very romanticized depiction and theoretically there should be more discussion and communication okay okay, end scene and with that out the way->
the first time you hit art being during an argument. you slap him after he says something a little too provocative, because art’s always been the type to say things to try and get under your skin when he’s mad. like he’s trying to get you to react and be the bad guy, stoop to his level.
but you slap him for saying something just a little bit too out of line, and the whole argument comes to a screeching halt as he stumbles back, holding his cheek in his hand as he looks down at the floor, and then back up at you in fear. he’s petrified.
and you just look baffled with yourself, not even realizing that was something you were capable of. you look down at your hands, like you didn’t know they could do that, and then back up at him.
he gulps. he thinks he’s in for it. but there also a weird feeling he can’t quite place. there’s that rush of adrenaline he got from the hit, and that bubble of shame welling up in his stomach.
he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but it kinda felt good to watch you lose your temper, for you to break and fall from that pedestal he puts you on, and to see you for what you are. and you look hot when you’re angry. for a good second there he thought you were gonna kill him, and it was horrifying, sure, but.. god, is he getting hard?
he’s definitely lightheaded, standing there completely still, as if if he didn’t move, you wouldn’t notice that he’s getting turned on from the fact that you just hit him. you slapped him. you hurt him, god it stung so bad, why is he so fucking turned on from it?
“art?” you murmur, not wanting to cross the distance yet, “i… i’m so sorry, i.. can i get closer and take a look?” you sound unsure, tense, like you’re afraid that he’s upset at you. of course you’re worried, but he can’t help that it’s a hit to his heart. you’re worried that you’ve just ruined everything and he’s biting his lip trying to keep in the horniness.
he nods at your question, and you come closer, tentatively reaching out to pet his cheek, “oh.. oh baby, i’m so so sorry, i.. i really didn’t mean to do this. that doesn’t change what i did, but—“
“hey,” he cuts you off, trying to ease your nerves, “i’m not mad at you. we’re okay. you’re okay. it didn’t hurt that bad, just for a second there it stung.” and you sigh, closing your eyes.
art never told you how hard he came jerking off in the shower that night. he couldn’t have asked for sex right then and there, you were so frazzled and distracted and it wasn’t the right time, but thinking about how mad you looked for him going until he came so hard he was seeing stars.
a couple weeks later you’re making out with him on the couch, lips on his, straddling his lap, before he gasps out, “slap me,” his words move past his lips in a daze, he doesn’t even realize he said them until it’s too late.
you pull back, brows furrowed, “…what? uhm.. art, if this is some kinda joke—”
“no, baby, i.. i mean it.. please hit me, like last time. it was so hot..” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your neck delicately, “please, baby.”
and he eventually gets you to oblige, a good amount of begging usually works on you. so you slap him again, and he moans this time, surprising you both, but there’s something so hot about how his face contorts into pleasure when you slap him.
you lean back in to keep making out with him, and your hand brushes his cheek sweetly, as if apologizing, but he doesn’t need that. he needs you to hit him again and again until he gets dizzy.
and this begins the cycle of passionate make out sessions being routinely interrupted with a slap on his cheek or some other form of pain like your nails digging into his skin, carving moons into him.
and every time, without a doubt, he looks up at you with the most pleasure-filled look in his eyes and he mouth hanging open as he smiles slightly, whispering, “i love you,” even as his skin tingles from the aftermath. and when you lean back in to kiss him, gripping his face roughly, especially right over the sensitive skin you slapped, he knows you love him too.
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stupid for you | peter maximoff
SUMMARY: you and peter fall out and he makes it up to you in his own peter way
WORD COUNT: 928
WARNINGS: some swearing.
A/N: idk what this is but writing peter is my fave so he gets all my dumb ideas ❤️ p.s. if the format sucks it’s bc im mobile.
It wasn’t like Peter had meant to upset you. Sometimes his mouth didn’t have a filter and he said things before even thinking about it so when he called you ‘annoying and needy’, he really didn’t mean it. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the type of person to ever want to upset you or anyone for that matter. So when he’d seen you walk away hurt and upset, that had sent him right into action. He just had to make it up to you — make you see how important you really were to him. It gnawed at him inside that he’d been the one to make you feel that way. Never before had he ever felt so bad. So guilty.
He’d spent the whole day trying to think of what he could do to apologise then suddenly the idea hit him. Maybe it was a little stupid, maybe you’d completely hate it but he thought it’d be cool. Different. It’d be something him.
Meanwhile, you’d spent the day moping around the X-Mansion. The training session you’d had earlier had helped distract your mind but as soon as it was over, your thoughts drifted back to Peter. The fight the two of you had had been so stupid. All you’d done is made some comment about Peter needing to slow down for a minute and listen to you and it had spiralled from there. It wasn’t often the two of you argued. In fact, you never really had. In the whole six months you’d been dating things had been going smoothly. Things had been so easy going, so fun — it wasn’t really a surprise that something was bound to happen to ruin that. When things were going good there was always something that had to come along and mess it all up.
With a sigh, you started to head upstairs to your room when suddenly a blur of silver and blue rushed past you. Before you could even blink Peter was stood right in front of you, his hands hidden behind his back. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you looked at him. “Hi.”
Your nerves were mirrored in his face as he spoke. “Hey. Uh…”
The silence fell between you. It was awkward — something that didnt happen often when it came to you and Peter. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something he began talking.
“Okay, just let me talk for a minute before I chicken out. I’m not good at this shit. I’m not the best at filtering the stuff that comes out of my mouth. That’s why I’m always getting myself in trouble. You know that but the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. You gotta believe me on that one. If I could, I’d punch myself in the face. I mean, I could but… I can’t break the goods, y’know?” He laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.
“It’s my fau-“
“Gonna have to stop you there, babe,” he said as he pulled one of his hands from behind his back and held it up to signal you to stop. “Can’t have you taking the fall on this one. It’s all me. A Maximoff fuck up special. That little switch people have in their brain where they tell themselves to shut up before they say something dumb? Yeah, turns out mine is broken. Probably wasn’t born with one actually. I’m not letting you feel bad for this. It’s all on me, okay? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to apo-“
“I do, I really do, though. Felt bad the second I said what I said. You’re not annoying and I love when you’re clingy. I love you wanting to be around me as much as I want to be around you. You caught me on one of those rare days where I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe Scott even pissed in my cereal or something, who knows. Point is that I messed up.”
“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” You asked, an amused look on your face as you listened to your boyfriends rambling.
“Oh shit, sorry. My bad. The floor is yours.”
“What I was trying to say was that you don’t need to apologise because I forgive you anyway. We’re gonna mess up sometimes and I know you didn’t mean it. It was just hearing it come from you that upset me, I guess. Anyone else I could take it but you? Your opinions and thoughts about me matter the most. Can we just forget about it and move on?”
“Sure, yeah… but first…” he finally pulled his hand from behind his back to produce a Lego bouquet of flowers. “These are for you and lemme tell you, it was hell trying to put this together.”
“…you got me Lego flowers?”
“Duh. This way they last forever and you won’t have to worry about watering them and you can always remember the time your boyfriend was a dumbass.”
You laughed, taking them from him. “How long did it take you to put it together?”
“Might have cheated and used the ol’ mutation but I kept messing up. Some of the pieces wouldn’t fit where I wanted them to and I almost got mad and thr-“
“There’s instructions, you know.”
“Are you gonna stop cutting me off?” He grinned, hands on his hips as he echoed your words from earlier.
”Smartass.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
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cw: body horror?
hanahaki but as your days are coming to an end and your candle’s burning out, a bouquet of gorgeous flowers just sprouts from your face and your affections are clear for everyone to see. a parting gift for those around you. pity from the cancer in your body that you might still be saved.
asmo, mammon, and levi all scream and satan stutters out “h-hana-hanahaki-”
they beg you to tell them which person it is, promising that whoever it is will definitely love you back. if it means you won’t die, then they’ll gladly let their heart be shattered. some throw their hat into the ring by proclaiming their love first, desperate to stop the decay.
maybe that works. maybe it doesn’t.
pain wracks your body as the flowers grow and cover your face. blind and unable to speak, petals filling your throat, you couldn’t tell them even if you wanted to. your candle flickers, threatening to go out earlier than expected.
the devildom grows still as its inhabitants wait for news of you. luke, simeon, and raphael have all taken to praying for your well-being. even solomon tries his hand at it.
the flowers tell the story for you anyway- whether they’re white and gold, red and black, or varying shades of blue, your disease lays it all bare for these witnesses at the cost of your life. a helping hand gone wrong.
if they don’t catch on in time, the bouquet remains even as your soul leaves your body, pristine and as beautiful as you once were. an immortal reminder of what could’ve been.
and if the right person and returns your love, the bouquet will die; flowers wilting before you both, breaking the barrier between you. the petals stop constricting your throat enough for you to say:
“i love you too.”
(does this even really count as hanahaki… i just wanted to write it idk)
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