Hunterxhunter Coming Back Just Might Cure My Depression 🧏🏽

pantalone and ( prime ) dottore pamper you

nsfw . mdni . (sub) female reader (afab, she/her usage)

cockwarming, size kink, slight infantilization, slight threesome, unspecified relationships, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, slight humiliation, basically they’re dressing you up for a ball

i might write a signora + arlecchino x reader sandwich tomorrow. my demons just took over, here, PHEW 😮‍💨

“p-please… can’t sit still anymore…”

“sh, shhh my darling,” pantalone hushed against your tears. his voice was calm and gentle like the wind, even with his touch to match. he made you feel safe, as if peace could somehow envelope your body in this cold, dark palace.

“but you’re doing so good for us already,” dottore whispered from behind. as you sat on his lap, your back to his front, he landed two pats on your left thigh, making you jolt. the two men in the room didn’t even try hiding their light laughter at your little reactions.

such evil, they were—having you sit still on dottore’s lap with his hardened cock inside of you. he was too big for you. even his hand, which now squeezed at your thigh, was so large. his natural grip alone kept you pinned down and squirming on his lap.

his shaft was so warm, you could feel it pulsing against your own throbbing walls. and you were sure he could feel it—the way your insides squeezed him so nicely.

“i’m going to continue,” pantalone told you, planting the sweetest of kisses on your cheek. “okay, princess?”

he gave you a kind-looking smile when you nodded your tear-soaked head, before eventually progressing. the ninth harbinger then lowered himself to his knees, hands moving to gently grab at your ankle. he looped on the most delicate yet extravagant thigh garters you had ever seen up your leg—one that could be fitting for even her majesty herself.

and yet here he was, putting such an expensive jewelry on you.

“do you like it?” dottore hummed against your neck. “we thought it would be so fitting for a doll—though, pantalone is more of a stylist than i…”

“oh, you needn’t to flatter,” said pantalone quite passively. to gain better access, he suddenly lifted your leg upwards. your upper body pressed back into dottore’s chest as a result, pushing you down deeper on his cock.

you practically let out a cry at the penetration, and almost immediately at the sound, dottore’s rough hands planted themselves on your hips. his hands, oh archons, his hands. those rough fingers, though gloved, were pressed hard against your skin. they rubbed right at your pelvic bone, forcing you steady. they were so steady and controlling, sticking quite true to his surgical and scientific background.

his cock twitched inside of you, and you found yourself flinching still as pantalone secured the garter around your thigh.

“it’s pretty on her, isn’t it?”

“truly,” dottore agreed, his fingers moving down to lace through the fabric. you shivered—if he wanted to, he could rip it from one stretch of his hand alone.

pantalone contentedly sighed, “im glad. she’ll look so good at the ball tonight once we’re done with her.” he leaned in, playing a light, almost loving kiss at your puffy clit.

when he stood up, his hands moved to unbutton your top clothes, likely planning on changing your attire next. icy air bit at your bare skin so harshly, you felt like you’d freeze to death while these rich men stayed warm in their coats.

and yet as you shivered, both men couldn’t resist to put their hands all over your naked body. it was almost as if they were holding back all this time—pantalone’s sweet demeanor turning into one where his hands grabbed and twisted at your tits like you were their sex doll.

and perhaps, maybe they like dressing you up just for that.

gn guys 😨

/ not proofread

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | eren jaegar

warnings . . . fem reader ( she / her prns ), established relationship, black reader!, eren has a dick piercing & he likes bein’ called god :3, he also spits in your mouth, lotsa praise, squirting, oral sex ( f -> m), reader’s a bit of a brat but ‘s okie !

word count . . . approx. 6.4k

maisie's note ! . . . dis is da song mentioned at d beginning ! i had it playing almost da entire time i spent writing this fic + ariana’s song is basically . . . da reason for dis entire thing !

RINI’s oceane plays gently from the white, pill shaped, jbl speaker resting on the black, quartz countertop inside of the bathroom. nibbling on the long, acrylic layered, tapered square nail of your thumb, you watch your boyfriend’s tatted, muscled back flex and strain as he brushes his teeth in front of the sink from your position in bed. you feel as though your words are literally stuck in your throat — pointy ends sinking into the structure of your esophagus as the rounded letters block your airway which have you opening your mouth then snapping it back closed to take in a deep inhale and blow it back out slowly, time over and time again. you’re nervous … and you’re not exactly sure why. you have no reason to be, you think. it’s just a simple question you want to ask the man currently stepping out from the bathroom to walk towards the foot of the bed and yet, you feel an urge to dart into traffic at the imaginary outcomes your brain’s conjuring up if he happened to say that two-lettered word you despise most — ‘no.’

“hey,” you try out, your voice soft and delicate from literal hours of disuse. “g’mornin’.”

you catch eren’s attention though. you make him lift his eyes so they meet yours, gorgeous teal to sleepy brown, as he drops the towel swathed around his waist to snatch up the pair of ethika briefs thrown on the ottoman beside black, straight legged jeans and a balenciaga hoodie. “did i wake you?” he asks, thick eyebrows gathering close as he slips them up the firm muscles of his thighs.

you shake your head, “no, i woke up while you were in the shower.”

here’s the thing about eren, — he is strict on routine. monday through thursdays he’s up at six am come the twinkling chimes of his phone alarm. twenty minute shower is immediately after, no if-ands-or-buts, then he brushes his teeth, gets dressed in a usual outfit of hoodie and jeans (occasionally he swaps out the hoodie for a short sleeved v neck or maybe the jeans for sweat-shorts), has breakfast, and he’s out of the door by seven fifteen. he gets to his job — a tattoo and piercing parlor entitled paradis at seven fifty which allows him a ten minute interval to open up shop and get his station ready for his first client of the day.

you’re not exactly sure how you’re going to somehow force your boyfriend to ram a dent into his periodic, run-of-the-mill schedule . . and on a tuesday at that, but, if anything, you’re determined to. you need to. “so . .” you watch him pull his hoodie over his head, obscuring sharp, black ink printed over his pecs, collarbones, and arms from view. “what are you doin’ tomorrow?”

eren’s combing his tousled, shoulder length locks up with his fingers to gather it all in a bun which he ties somewhat securely with the band he keeps on his wrist at all times near the back of his head. he gives you a look — one that makes the corner of his lips pull down in a lour. “tomorrow’s tuesday, i’m working, baby.”

god, this is going to be harder than you thought.

you kiss your teeth with a slick ‘mmcht’ sound, “well,” you scratch the back of your neck. “i was thinking that . . maybe you could take off tomorrow.”

he makes a small, gruff sound of slight interest. you can hear him walking over to the dresser where he keeps his jewelry. “hm — and why should i do that?”

“because i’m your girlfriend and you love me.”

his smile is pretty. there’s really no other word to truly describe it. it makes his usual, handsome-although-deadpanned face brighten and gleam as the straight, pearly whites reveal themselves between two, soft, bronze-toned lips. he’s grinning at you as he tosses a gold, rope chain around his neck and clips his favorite rolex over his wrist. “as much as that’s true,” he’s trailing over to your side of the bed, bringing along with him the scent of fresh, clean soap and expensive cologne. “you’ve been begging me for a new, diamond anklet for a month now and how do you think i manage to buy those for you, huh?”

he tilts your chin up high with a knuckle so that you can look up at his towering frame. you pout at his question. “but . . but baby, i hit two million subscribers on youtube and i had this whole, cute video idea of you doing my makeup ‘cause everyone wants to see you now and if you say no, i’m going to cry, and throw a fit and you’re gonna be a mean, horrible boyfriend and i know you don’t want to be that, do you?” you’re standing up on your knees now, tugging on the pocket of his hoodie with the cutest frown on your face.

god, if you weren’t the most spoiled fucking thing on planet earth.

in a way, eren knows he should blame himself for your self-centered, brattish behavior. he grants you any and everything you ask for because it’s simply hard not to. sometimes, a pout isn’t what breaks him but a smile. the dreamy, drop-dead gorgeous beam that spreads across your face when you see him holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, when he swipes his card at the make up outlets you drag him to, and at five-star, tower-revolving restaurants has his heart inside of a vice-grip and you know this. “mm,” he groans through his nose, closes his eyes, and pinches his nose bridge. he’s contemplating.

“eren, please?” you’re whispering sweetly, trying your best time sway him over to ‘yes, fine.’ “please? just one video?”

he blinks his eyes back open slowly, “clients,” he says as if just realizing — as if broken out of the puppy-eyed trance you subjected him to. “i have clients, i can’t cancel on them.”

it’s rare that you have to whip out the big guns. big guns being a dramatic façade of bubbling tears and sniffles as you plop back down on your butt. and in response, he’s giving you this bored, catatonic expression that shows he’s used to it. “you’re not being fair, you know that?”

you fold your arms over your chest, “i’m the one not being fair?”

eren rolls his eyes and snatches up his vans to shove his feet into and lace up beside the door. “just for that, now you can wait. i’ll make up my mind later.”

“eren!”

he ignores your little wails while grabbing his phone and keys from off of the nightstand and walking out of the room with a simple, “i love you. come lock the door after i leave.”

you should know just as much as you adore teasing and putting up a bit of a fight when provoked to, eren does the same. you had expected to wallow and pout and sob all day in bed until your malignant, execrable of a boyfriend got home, per contra, your phone dings with a text message as you’re locking the front door. in the company of a jutted bottom lip, you’re using facial identification to unlock the device and open the new message from ‘baby<3’ that reads:

fine.

your love for make up, skin care and, basically, all things beauty began at the budding age of five years old. the palettes of chalky eyeshadow, pulverized blush, and lipgloss composed of more wax and glitter than anything, you received on christmas and birthdays filled your little heart up with so much joy that it was indescribable. thankfully, your parents saw just how much you enjoyed painting your face with the cosmetics and when you hit ten, you were already roping your dad into drugstores to buy you the real deal.

the excitement and happiness makeup brought you never dulled. you uploaded your first tutorial on youtube at eighteen, around the time you first met eren, and now at twenty two you’re hitting your two million milestone.

your subscribers’ infatuation with eren began about a year ago when he reached a tatted arm across your vanity while you were doing your makeup to pluck a fast food cup from it and take a swig of your strawberry lemonade. you decided to leave the clip in — surmising that the domesticity of him grumbling about you ‘drinking it all and barely leaving any for him’ and your responding giggles as you looked up at him was too cute to trim out. there had also been another occurrence of you answering his facetime call while color correcting that made him chuckle over the receiver at how silly you looked that trended over twitter for a few days and caught a lot of attention.

you have never been the type to hide your relationship neither. you continuously boast about how fine eren was, how he won an award for tattoo’ing last year, about the many dates he takes you on — you suppose that maybe you were a tease. and, to put simply, your subscribers couldn’t take it anymore. they were curious. they needed to know who this man was.

“i’m craving a fuckin’ bacon double-cheeseburger,” eren sniffs while lounging back in the white, swirling chair you loaned him.

your fujifilm x-s10 camera is recording, your ring lights are on, and so is your fairy lights that drape prettily over the white shelves of books, plants, and trinkets you use for a backdrop behind you. humming, you make sure your butterfly locs are hanging right before flicking one over your shoulder, “do i look okay?” you turn your stool to face eren who gives you a long look from the ass-length locs on your head to the white prada sandals on your feet.

when he drags his eyes back up, a lazy smile slides across his lips prior to him licking them, “yeah,” he utters softly, peering at you through his lashes. “you look good, baby.”

a grin of startlement lights up your face as your heart skips a beat at that look. you hold your hand up with your palm facing him and shake your head, looking towards the camera, “i am not playing with you today, eren.”

“i just answered your question?—“

“—no need for an intro. welcome back to my channel, if you’re new here my name is ( ♡ ) and this pretty man right here is my boyfriend eren,” you bring him in close by the face to kiss the skin of his cheek as he hums as a greeting. “and today he’s going to be doing my make up. you think you’re up for it, mr. jaeger?”

he’s already thumbing with tubes of lipgloss and opening palettes when he shoots back coolly, “i don’t know. we’ll have to see, mrs. jaeger.”

you fluster with bashfulness, as much as you try to fight it, and kicks his shin underneath the table. “alright, so start,” you straighten your spine. “you can’t ask me what anything is, okay? you have to do it all on your own.”

eren inhales some air through his teeth as he combs his hair back with his fingers. “mm, okay,” he mumbles underneath his breath. he wracks his brain for the small glances he’d take of you doing your make up while he walked in and out of the room all these days before. it seems to him you’re always trying out a new product aside from . . “you always start with this shit.” he grabs hold of a pink and white ombré squeeze tube bottle with ‘too faced hangoverx’ printed across it. it’s a staple for you. after opening it, instead of simply applying some of the product upon the tips of his fingers and rubbing it in, the way that you do it, eren angles the opening of the bottle upon peaks of your face which he squeezes the primer onto before doing so.

“oh, god,” you’re giggling at the foreign touch of his fingers tapping over your face which makes him have to roll his chair in closer.

he fixes you with a bored stare, “stop movin’. what’s so funny?”

not wanting to disturb his flow, you shake your head, “nothing. keep going.”

he’s popping the cap back on the container while pulling the iridescent pink mason jar you keep your go-to make up brushes in towards the edge of the vanity before picking the first one he sees — the flat brush you normally use for concealer. “don’t be laughing at me. i’ll pull your little ass over my lap and s—“

“—i’m going to have to edit that out now, eren!” you whine. you absolutely hate editing and you try your best to keep it at a minimal. however, knowing eren and his apathetic impudence, you know this video is going to be cut-and-paste central.

he lifts your chin by a knuckle so he can start blending the primer a little bit more into your skin. “don’t edit it,” he utters in reply as if that was an unexacting solution. you blink up into the moss-green of his eyes, unable to keep from noticing just how long and delicate his eyelashes are that frame them. when he blinks, they touch the apples of his cheeks and spring back up near his brow bone. you strangely want to comb mascara through them. “there.” he plops the brush back inside the jar and nibbles upon the flesh of his bottom lip in consideration.

“what now?”

he gives you a sideways glance, “. . uh, f-foundation? that shit.” he snatches the bottle of your fenty beauty foundation and shakes it a bit before angling the applicator over your face and pumping it all over. “then you use this brush, right?” he grabs a tapered, buffing brush with dense bristles which makes you lift your eyebrows in slight surprise. you didn’t know he paid that much attention. so far, all of the products he’s been using have been correct, aside from him wielding your concealer brush to pat in your primer.

while he’s brushing the full-coverage product over the canvas of your face, you can’t help but fist the fabric of his sweats in your fist. no reason to, honestly, just wanted to touch him. “maybe we can tell them how we met while we do this, baby?”

he’s concentrating, eyebrows linked close and tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “yeah, sure,” he mumbles. “tell them how you acted like a smart, know-it-all just ‘cause you wanted my attention, huh?”

you swat his chest with a huff, “i did not,” you pout. “we met through our mutual friend, sasha, at a restaurant to celebrate her birthday. i was eighteen, eren was nineteen and — wait, no, my first impression of you was—“

“—he’s sexy as fuck and i’m going to try my absolute best to get on his nerves, because that’s exactly what your smart ass did—“

“—oh, fuck you.”

“yeah?” he smiles and you feel his fingers drop from your chin to wrap around the column of your throat. he tugs you in roughly to smack his lips into yours for two, three, four? pecks before pulling away and going back to blending your foundation up into your ears. the action is so swift and quick that you’re sure you almost catch whiplash. “watch your tone.”

“anyways,” you roll your eyes, fighting to keep your smile in. something in you likes switching the button of your ‘brat mode’ on and off because you like how easy it is for eren to snap you back in place with a simple look, or phrase of, ‘keep playing with me and watch what i’ll do.’ of course, you’ve never told him this and you doubt you ever will, but something inside of you knows eren has picked up on it and that’s why he doesn’t really spare you a glance when you catch a sudden attitude out of no where. you like his attention, no, love it actually and when you got it, you were happiest. however, eren has been trying to teach you lately that not everything will go your way just because you want it to. you have to earn what you want.

and most of the time that includes his dick and attention, whether you like it or not.

“i thought eren was this stuck up, snobby, rich boy when i met him because he came to the restaurant dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie,” you close your eyes when he grabs the tube of concealer to draw a line over the lids then little triangles beneath your eyes followed by a line dragging upwards on the outer part towards your temple.

“like that, right?”

you shrug at his question and he clicks his jaw in frustration. “anyways, upon sitting down, we’re all talking and stuff and i catch him looking at the menu when our waitress comes by to take our order, then he asks her if he can have the crudité as his whore-derv.”

eren shakes his head and caps the concealer back up after drawing a dick on your nose and putting some on your chin and forehead. “i didn’t say it like that.”

you giggle and punch his shoulder, “yes, you did! and i corrected you and told you it’s pronounced hors d'oeuvre and you gave me this . . look.” it’s always hard to explain. every time you think about that day, you think about the certain look he gave you. a bright glint in his eye that made it seem like he wanted to kiss, kill, and marry you at the same while. “and then he was pussy-whipped from there on out. literally hounded me for my number while i walked to my car when we were all leaving.”

“you gave it to me the first time i asked and i walked you to your car, don’t play with me,” he pulls you in close by the throat again while smiling and you hum playfully while looking up at him. “maybe so, maybe not. i don’t remember it happening like that.”

he clicks his tongue and lazily lines contour over your forehead and jawline. “do that stupid fish face.” you suck in your cheeks to make your lips pucker cutely as he outlines the contour to bring out your cheekbones. “there you go,” he whispers underneath his breath. “good fuckin’ girl.”

he lets you go when he’s done and caps it. “now i get to use that sponge, i think. where is it?” he shuffles around the vanity and drawers for a moment before he sees it buried in the jar with your brushes. he shoves his huge hand inside of it, almost breaking the glass, prior to retrieving the sponge shaped like a mushroom in honor of colour pop’s collaboration with mario kart as a promotion package you received last year. with the sponge, eren starts to pat the cream products all in and you take the time to grow quiet again and close your eyes, melting into the comfort of having him so near.

his face was only inches away from yours so you can smell the spearmint of the gum he was chewing on his breath that occasionally brushes over your face. you can tell he also washed his hair too … and with your shampoo which doesn’t comes as a surprise since he claims the brand you buy makes his hair feel softer. you blink your eyes back open daintily to find him already staring at you too and you can’t help but smile and go a bit shy, “u-uhm . . what was your first impression when you first saw me?”

he bounces the sponge over your chin then smirks, “i don’t know, man,” he mumbles. “thought you were pretty as fuck, if you really want me to be honest. had on this . . tight ass, light blue dress with your hair and make up all done …“ his mind takes him back to the day. takes him back to sitting there at the table in the corner of a dimly, lit restaurant, staring at you without an ounce of shame in his body. you’d sometimes glimpse over and catch him, however, he never looked away. “cute ass.”

you giggle and throw your arms over his shoulders, blown away dumbfounded that he actually remembered what you wore. “then the second time we met,” he blends in the concealer under your eyes which leaves the products all melded and fused smoothly, then drops the brush on the vanity. “uh, i took you on a date . . we went to the fair.”

you gasp at the memory, “you won me this gigantic, pink, panda bear at the stall games! and . . and we ate like four funnel cakes together and you almost threw up on the ferris wheel. awe, baby,” you peck his lips and brush more of his hair back to get a better look at his handsome face. “one of my favorite dates we’ve been on.”

“i’m glad,” suddenly, as if a spring had been faulted in his seat, eren brings you in by your chair to align his lips upon yours and kisses you. his tatted hand holds your face firmly in place as your lips began to move slowly with light, clicking sounds and small smacks. you breathe him in completely, pulling him closer and closer until you felt yourself climbing his lap which doesn’t take neither of you by surprise. you end up with your knees caged around his hips and your hands tangled in the tufts of sorrel-brown waves as his tongue skims the seam of your lips before prying them open. neither of you can really help yourself at this point.

his large hands are sliding up the back of your thighs, bare due to you wearing a pair of tiny, denim shorts today. then they find your ass cheeks which he squeezes, right before pulling the palm of his right hand back an inch and slamming it back down to make you give a cute sound between a squeak and moan. eren’s been trying to control his urges this entire time if he wants to be entirely candid with himself. it’s hard having your face right in front of his and not doing anything about it. there’s been more than a few instances where it hadn’t took much — just him fucking staring at you while you talked has got him bricked up within seconds. this right here . . he considers it torture.

“w-wait, baby, no,” you’re whining and pulling and pouting — everything eren does not want, to free yourself from his embrace and he groans in irritation, tilting his head back against the chair he’s seated in. “we have to finish.” you take your seat again and adjust your locs, feeling as though two million people just saw you blatantly make out with your boyfriend. “i have to edit that out, too.”

eren tilts his head back forward and blows out a breath. his hand grabs your favorite setting powder. “we set this shit now, right?”

from there on out, it’s almost like he’s whizzing through the process. he ends up actually making your eyeliner sharp and crisp just because of how fast he flicked his fingers and drew it on. “wait, c’mere,” he pulls your face in really close until your noses are almost touching. “i like when you do that inner corner shit.” he tries his best to draw the tiny triangle and . . it looks somewhat good. it’s not bad, but it’s not as small and precise as you do it. eren doesn’t care that much. he’s dusting blush over your cheeks and nose bridge with a brush which makes you sneeze and he chuckles. “you can do your eyebrows and eyelashes and shit,” he utters while grabbing a tube of white and pink eyeliner. “i want to draw.”

“on my face, eren?”

he shushes you, “i’ll make it look nice, daddy promises.” he ends up dotting tiny stars over your cheeks and nose bridge with the two colors . . almost like freckles. “then . . i like that dark outline and clear lipgloss shit on your lips.” he drops the eyeliner to pick up a random, dark pencil which is an eyebrow product and lines your lips with smooth, exact lines that follow the shape of them. he makes you rub them together when he’s done to blend the harsh contours then lets you apply the lipgloss yourself. from there on, he grabs a random setting spray and spritzes your face with it all over to complete it.

he’s smiling at the finished product, teasingly keeping your hello kitty shaped, handheld mirror hidden behind his back before showing you. “ready?” he asks.

you tap your feet, anxiously. “yes! lemme see already.”

“you sure?”

“eren!”

he holds up the mirror and your eyebrows instantly raise in a state of startlement. your reflection staring back at you through the mirror looks actually . . good. you find that he, if truth be told, blended in your foundation and contour quite nicely, and although the blush was a bit misplaced, you adore the star-freckles he added. “i’m . . i’m really surprised, eren. woah,” you tilt your face this way and that, admiring the liner and choice of lip.

eren tchs, staring at you as if just realizing something, “i forgot that shiny shit.”

you hum quizzically.

“the stuff you put on your cheeks.”

“. . oh, highlighter.” you nod. “no, no. i feel like this is good on its own, this is amazing actually. you did way better than i thought. the only product you misused was the eyebrow pencil on my lips, i’m proud of you.”

eren sets the mirror down and hums, tilting his head when he leans in to softly peck your lips. it’s a sweet sign of affection since he doesn’t make any other move than that and you smile cutely, “. . i think i’ll leave this part in.”

“good.”

you stand and decide to take a seat on his lap to film the outro. “and this is the finished look. i think my baby did well, ten out of ten for me.” you squeeze his face between your hands. “now when i hit three million subscribers the two of us will be back so that i can do eren’s make up!—“

he lifts his eyebrows. “—really?”

“please remember to like and subscribe and all that cool stuff. i’ll see you guys on friday with a new video. muah!” you blow a big kiss to the camera before turning to eren. “you gotta blow one, too.”

he groans and bury his face into your neck. you roll your eyes and give a final wave for him before grabbing the tiny remote off of your vanity to press a button and end the recording.

if eren’s honest, he isn’t quite sure what ensues after — it all kind of happens in a whirl. all he really knows is that one minute you’re sitting on his lap and the next, you’re squirming out of his arms, knees hitting the floor and you’re tugging his sweats down to wrap your small hand around his half-hard cock. he bucks up into your fist at the first touch, “woah,” pleasantly surprised. “what …”

you press a kiss right upon the silver barbell that pricks through a thin patch of skin right underneath the fat, mushroom head of his cock. “i just . . wanted it. ‘s this okay?” you’re looking up at him with big, pretty eyes that makes his heart thud just a little bit harder against the cage of his ribs. is this okay? what kind of question was that?

“yeah, baby,” he rasps. “it’s okay.”

you wiggle your hips and hold him upright with your thumb and middle finger as your tongue drags a thick stripe up the underside. he tastes a bit like sweat and soap — you’re borderline drooling when your tongue dips a bit lower to lave over the smooth skin of his heavy balls. eren doesn’t know where the hell women like you come from.

one moment so smart mouthed and slick, giving him rolled eyes, middle fingers, and pouts then the next, all docile and compliant, fluttered eyelashes, glassy eyed, and sweet.

he watches you gather a sloppy mass of spit to drip on his cock and smoothly follow its path with your tongue to ease him into the back of your throat. “awe, fuck,” he tilts his head off onto the seat as his eyes swing back within his skull at the tight warmth your little mouth brings. he adores you, very much so. he doesn’t think anyone else can keep him on his toes the way you do. “god, i fuckin’ love you,” he chuckles softly.

you give a small snicker at his sudden confession and pushes his hoodie up with your other hand, wanting to see the way his abs tauten and stretch each time his piercing hits your gag reflex. you start to attend to a rhythmic, even pattern — keeping your cheeks sucked in to provide a snug grip as you let your drool froth and foam thick bubbles at his base.

eren’s mouth is slightly agape as he watches you through hooded lids, eyes significantly darker than they were five minutes ago. what was once a brilliant teal, now a murky sage.

you lift your eyes up to meet his, establishing steady and solid eye contact and makes sure he keeps looking when you pop off with a pretty gasp, lips swollen and tongue bridged to his tip by a bubbly line of thick saliva. eren shakes his head, “nah, nah,” he’s mumbling lowly, feeling his brain wandering dimly into a darker, more sinister sector where he’s convinced the only two people left on this planet is you and him.

you like to call the sudden stance change a bit scary. you can see his brain practically forming itself around a more assertive, domineering slant by the way his hand presses into the back of your head and forces you back down until your nose is touching the bare skin above his shaft. “there you fuckin’ go,” he grunts lowly, ignoring your coughs and splutters as you jab the edges of your acrylics into the strong meat of his thighs. he forces you off again, just to watch you gasp for air and then shoves you back down a second later. “still not all the way there, doll. want you to drop for me.”

it doesn’t occur to you what drop exactly means until it happens — until you feel your mind go a bit cloudy and dull as your eyes tear and nose start to leak at the rough treatment your throat’s receiving. you drop when your nails stop digging into his skin and you stop holding back which leaves you limp and able to relax your throat to take his cock inside of it fully. then eren pulls you off.

there’s a stifled ringing in your ears as you blink up at him, watching him lean in close while smiling and grabbing you roughly by the face to make your lips pucker. “there you fuckin’ go. this is my good girl,” he gives two firm pats to your face, making you smile and hum, wonderfully dumb and gormless. he pulls you back up onto his lap by your arms, practically snatching off your shorts and popping open the buttons of your body-suit that clipped securely at your crotch. “mmm,” he’s looking up at you while tapping his wet, long cock upon the fat of your dripping pussy.

you mewl and circle your hips slow, trying your best to just sink down on it but eren’s holding you with one tatted hand by the hip, keeping you from doing so. you’re weak, already sniffling and crying, whimpering out tiny ‘eren, please’s’ as he smiles and ignores you. “fuckin’ filthy, aren’t you?” he dips two of his fingers past your lips to touch your throat when he pushes you down. he feels the way you choke and the way your little throat spasms as your tiny pussy gets split open by the fat of his cock the more he raises his hips to meet you halfway. “fuuuuuck.”

eren pulls his fingers out to grab you by the soft flesh of your ass and starts to rock up and down slowly, wanting you both to savor it for a minute.

you’re moaning, already a pile of weak goo as you hold onto the hem of his hoodie, staring into his eyes. “feels good?” he asks you quietly. you nod, too dumb to realize that you should probably vocalize it though you can’t. you couldn’t, even if you tried and thankfully, eren understands. “yeah?”

you nod again, this time giving a sweet, “mhm.”

he starts to rock you just a little bit faster and your mouth drops open. eren groans and pushes you faster . . and faster until ultimately you both realize that you’re starting to bounce on your own. the thick meat of your ass is clapping down on his thighs with each rebound and you can hear the slick of your juices mixing in with his as the chair squeaks underneath both of your weight. “just like that,” eren drags his nails down the arch of your back to smack your ass and make you whine. “shit!”

the thread of self-control is shedding into nothing between you both when you trade the bounces to take a firm seat on his thighs and push yourself back and forth, brushing that fucking piercing against that tender tissue of sensitive nerves nestled inside of you that makes drool start to trickle down your chin. eren’s moans are loud as he meets you thrust for thrust. he watches the way your tits move inside your shirt, nipples hard and straining against the cotton.

your hands slip from his shoulders to tangle inside of his hair. “g-gonna make me cum,” you sniff, voice quiet and small. “e-eren, you’re . . y-y’gonna make me cum.”

“gonna make me cum, too, baby.”

there isn’t a word to describe how it feels.

you both go quiet for a moment, working desperately towards your highs with him lifting his hips and you bouncing and it hits like a truck.

you’re loud and eren’s gasping, pulling you in close with both his arms wrapped around your back as if he were hugging you. his cum is seeping past your cervix it feels like . . shooting and gathering into the small crevice of your womb as yours seeps out of you like a waterfall — running and slipping down his balls and to the chair. you’re pulling at his hair, involuntarily tugging honestly, as your body twitches and trembles on the come down. “h-holy shit,” you’re crying you realize, little sobs pushing from your throat. “oh my god.”

you’re both breathing hard and eren groans upon realizing that he isn’t finished. there’s still a buzzing warmth coursing through his veins that makes him run his hands up your sides to your neck to grab your face and pull it from his neck to kiss you. he mumbles something on your lips.

“h-huh?”

he looks up at you, “don’t stop,” he repeats lowly and you let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs you by the hips to start to move you again. “don’t fuckin’ stop.”

“eren.”

you’re positive that you can’t take anymore. your cunt’s already bruised and sensitive, cervix tender and weak . . you can’t take it. you soon realize that you’re babbling this and dragging your nails across his wrists and he’s shaking his head, pupils blown as he stares into your eyes. “you can,” he tells you.

suddenly you feel the world tipping on its axis for a second prior to your back touching the white, faux rabbit-fur rug that lays underneath your vanity as he looms up above you on his spread knees with your calves thrown over his strong shoulders. “you can take it for me.” he pins your hips down when he starts to fuck you. it seems like it’s even faster this time. he’s fucking you like he’s sure in the fact you won’t break. no matter how hard his thrusts are, no matter how far he bends your legs back, no matter how brutal … you won’t break. “ ‘cause you’re my good girl, huh?”

his hair provides a cloak and shields your faces from the rest of the world when he leans down and kisses you. you nod at his question, moaning and hiccuping inside the heat of his mouth. “so fuckin’ good.” it’s so messy . . there’s loud squelches as he fucks the mix of cum in and out of you and it drips over the clefts of your ass and past the silver of skin that separates your pussy from your taint. but it feels unworldly. your eyes cross with each plunge of his cock into the barrier of your cervix. “ohhh god,” you cry through a whimper. “god, eren — god!”

he bites his bottom lip, watching you lose all sense of the world underneath him. “mhm,” he mumbles, swinging his hips harder into yours. “mm, ‘m your god, baby? is that right?”

your answer is immediate, “y-yessss.”

he grabs your face again, squeezing your cheeks until your tongue is forced out of your mouth by the pressure. and when the cushion of pink is placed on display, he gathers a wad of spit on his own to shoot it down into yours. “swallow it.”

you do so with a shiver of bliss and he groans, trembling along with you. “f-fuck, gonna make me cum again, doll.”

you’re begging him to give it to you with your feet dangling in the air above his head. his pounds are focused and hell-bent on doing so. you feel yourself nearing that edge of ecstasy once again — this time with a sharp twinge that makes you clamp your shaking legs at the knees as your face twists up in what looks like pain. eren goes to pull out, growing concerned but then it happens. your cum is splashing and raining out of you in a spew, drenching his hips and the pockets of his hoodie as you gasp and wheeze.

the sight is just enough for his eyes to roll back as his own cum sows your insides — painting creamy white over pretty, bubblegum pink.

you both don’t dare to speak nor move.

you want to bask in the aftermath of this deeply-out-of-fucking-body experience for as long as you possibly can.

but, when it ultimately passes around three minutes later, eren slumps forward with languor and groans, body feeling heavy. you run your fingers through his hair and hold him close, of course.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, a soft kiss following the words which makes you smile. “mm,” you hum in content. “i love you so much more.”

❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © tnyiest !

into it. — g. suguru

pairing: getō suguru x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: fem!reader, age gap (Getō 31, reader early 20s), virginity loss, fingering, virgin!brat!reader, brat tamer!geto, corruption kink, hatefucking, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, size difference, cum sharing, finger sucking, mirror sex, dumbification, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of pet names (sweetheart, princess), name-calling (brat, slut), reader experiences slight pain discomfort, mentions of aftercare, skin color is not mentioned.

a/n: this is completely self indulgent and i am not sorry

for @k-ryuuguji 's lights camera action collab!

“Cut!” The director yelled out, sighing and pinching the bridge of their nose. “Everyone take an hour, get lunch. Y/N, Getō, stay back a minute.”

You knew what this was about. You had worked on this once scene for half the day without any progress. No matter what you tried or how you portray your character, it just wasn't playing out the way it was supposed to. But then again, it was hard to play the love interest of someone you hated.

Ever since joining the cast of Jujutsu Kaisen, you and Getō Suguru butted heads. You hated his type. You hated how he thought he was better than everyone and how he looked down on you for being the youngest cast member besides Itadori Yūji. Sure, he was damn near ten years older than you, but that didn't make you less of an actor or even a bad one at that. You were convinced that guys like him just had ego’s bigger than their dicks. It was just a way for them to compensate.

“Tension is good for the role sometimes,” Gege, the director, told you and your co-star. “But whatever you two have going on is not. Get it sorted before we come back from lunch.”

You clenched your jaw before smiling sweetly, “You got it.”

As they walked away, you glanced at Getō before scoffing. You didn't say anything to him, deciding to leave yourself. You had ramen in your dressing room that was calling your name. When you went to walk away, a large hand clamped down on your wrist.

“Where do you think you're going?” Getō questioned, narrowing his eyes. “We were told to work this out.”

You almost snarled, roughly removing yourself from his grip, “There's no way in hell we're working past that big ass ego of yours.”

“Watch your mouth, princess,” He glowered, stepping forward as if to intimidate you. “Don't forget I can have you blacklisted before our break is over.”

You rolled your eyes, “Typical. The girl says no and the man threatens her. I'm not afraid of you, Suguru. If you really want to ‘talk things out’, at least let me eat first. That's what a gentleman would do. You'd know that if you weren't such a barbarian.”

This time when you walked away from him, he followed along silently. For once, he finally shut the fuck up and you could actually hear yourself think with him around. By the time you made it to your dressing room, you'd forgotten he was right behind you. You just hoped you didn't have anything sitting out that he would make fun of you for, like your plushie collection.

In all honesty, Getō didn't know what to expect. Maybe a shrine in his honor or something of the like. With how much you claimed to not like him, he figured maybe it was because you're secretly in love with him. Every time he tried to think about what reasons you had for hating him, he came up empty handed. It wasn't like he was the one that started it, either. One day you were nice to him and the next you literally told him to go fuck himself.

So imagine his surprise when you looked at him and said, “You can start with an apology.”

“Me?” His eyebrows shot up, a bewildered laugh escaping him. “I didn't do anything wrong. You're the one with the issue here.”

It was true. Getō had no qualms with you. But, it didn't mean he would sit there and take your shit. He would give it back, and has done so plenty of times.

You scoffed in response, “If you're gonna deny it, you can just leave. I already told you I'm perfectly fine not being civil.”

“Will you stop acting like a fuckin’ kid?” He growled, watching you reach into the bag sitting on your vanity.

You glanced over your shoulder, smirk tugging at your lips, “Okay, daddy. Whatever you say.”

He knew full and well that you were simply testing his patience. But, the sultry tone you used was not at all necessary or fair. It left him even more shocked than before. He hated that. No one has ever made him feel this conflicted and confused before.

“This was stupid,” He tried to recover, but you'd already seen the blush that hit his cheeks. And you silently cursed yourself for liking how he looked with a flushed face. “I won't apologize for something that I didn't do.”

You rolled your eyes, going to open the ramen pack when Getō took it from your hands, “Or is that the real issue here, Princess? Do you not get enough attention? So you bitch and moan like a brat?”

Your first instinct was to yell at him and grab for your food, but you knew you'd be proving his point. You clenched your jaw, staring forward as if he wasn't there. That act itself was also childish, but you knew that if you opened your mouth, all hell would break loose. Getō reached out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“Maybe it's because I don't give you enough attention?”

The wide eyed look you unknowingly gave him caused a low chuckle to push past his lips. He pulled you closer, his faces centimeters from yours, “If you wanted to fuck me sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

“As if,” You finally spat out, pushing his hand away from you. But just as quickly, he dropped the pack of ramen and grabbed you by the back of your neck. He twisted his fingers into your hair, keeping you firmly in place.

You swallowed thickly, knowing if you so much as dared to breathe, you'd waver. His scent was intoxicating, his gaze hypnotizing. Your heart was racing as you stared into his dark eyes, not knowing what had come over him. The thought was somewhat exhilarating and his grip on you left you feeling like your skin was on fire.

“Don't get shy on me now,” His voice came out just above a whisper, causing a shiver to slowly creep down your spine. “I didn't even fuck away that attitude yet.”

You should've been repulsed. You should've been pushing him away instead of pulling him in by his shirt. You should've been yelling at him instead of angrily pressing your lips against his. You should've been fighting instead of giving in.

All too quickly, Getō knocked your bag from the vanity table and wrapped an arm around your waist, hoisting you up. He sat you down, pushing himself between your thighs. Your mind was racing as he untangled himself from your hair and roughly grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into you as he pushed himself against you, letting you know just how hard he was already.

You didn't know what the hell was happening, or what was going to happen, or even why. You weren't going to deny the fact that Getō was hot, but the thought of sexual tension had never crossed your mind. You hated him with your whole heart, you'd swear it. But, god did you love how he was making you feel.

You hooked your legs around his waist, causing him to break the heated kiss with a sonorous laugh. His hands trailed your body, riding up your thigh and under your skirt until he stopped at your panties. He ran his fingers over the fabric, pulling an airy gasp from you. He smirked, “If you hate me so much, why are you such a mess for me?”

You held back a whimper at his touch, “Shut the fuck up.”

Roughly, he pulled your underwear aside and pushed a finger into you. Before you could cry out, he covered your mouth with his free hand and glared down at you.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Getō snapped, slipping another finger into you. “Unless you want everyone to know that you're acting like a little slut for me.”

As he worked his fingers, in and out, against your tight walls, you bit down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. Because he was right. You would be damned if anyone heard you calling out for Getō Suguru.

He was relentless. Pushing down on your pelvic bone, curling his fingers upward to hit that sweet spot over, and over, and over again until you were close to your release. But as soon as you tilted your head back and you clenched around him, he was pulling away from you completely. The smirk that tugged at his lips told him that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You think brats like you get to cum?”

It wasn't a question that needed an answer. For once you were smart enough to listen and keep quiet. He toyed with your clit, watching your face go red as you all but squirmed against him. He was enjoying how you reacted to his touch, writhing at something as simple as brushing your clit.

He moved his hand away from your mouth, using it to undo the few buttons of your top. You almost shivered at the cool air hitting your hot skin, going to reach for his shirt when he smacked your hand away. He would take up every single second of your lunch break if he had to. But he would fuck the brat out of you by the time you left the dressing room.

He bent down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You shivered, head rolling back as your breathing became ragged. He was reveling in the way you were puddy in his hands. So lost in your reactions that he didn't even stop to think maybe he had way more experience than you did. No, not when he was getting as lost in your noises as you were his touches.

You couldn't focus as he pressed his fingers into you, all while he sucked and nibbled at your skin. Every touch was lighting you on fire, your body shaking as you once again felt yourself close to cumming.

“Getō, please,” You whined, his tongue flicking over your sensitive flesh as his free hand continued to toy with your clit. You couldn't handle it, you wanted to touch him, to feel him inside you. You were too eager, so eager it was throwing him off.

He pulled away from you, shooting you a glare, “So impatient. It's almost like you've never done this before.”

The way the red tinted your cheeks told him exactly what he needed to know. You hadn't done this before, and it just gave him another thing to bully you for. The smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth confirmed your thoughts.

“You haven't, have you?” He questioned, already knowing his answer. “Oh, sweetheart. I am going to ruin you.”

You whimpered as he once again fucked his fingers into you. He’d allow you sweet release because it would make what comes next easier for you. He could feel you clenching around him, so damn close but not quite there just yet.

“You better cum,” He snapped, before leaning down and once again catching your perky nipple with his lips. “Now.”

“Getō, I–” You couldn't help the cry that pushed past your lips while he latched on, sucking and rolling his tongue over it as you instantly caved. You came around his fingers, your tight, gummy walls tightening against him. He didn't let up, letting you ride out your high as you panted out his name.

He pulled his hand away, sticking the fingers he used on you into your mouth. Everything you thought you knew about sex, you could forget it. Because Getō was going to teach you, and you were going to learn his way. This included forcing you to know what you tasted like. He wanted you to taste what he did, for you to know just how sweet you were. You ran your tongue over his fingers, doing what he wanted without even being asked to.

He let out a shaky breath as you sucked his skin clean, wondering how it would feel if your mouth was on his cock. As much as he wanted to find out, he was pushing the time limit as is. The thought had him yanking his hand away from you and flying towards his belt.

Your heart raced as you watched him, knowing you were about to give up everything for the person you hated the most without any hesitation. It made you feel so dirty but at the same time, he made you feel so good. You wanted more, for him to make good on his promise and ruin you.

As he slid out of his clothes you couldn't help but stare. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, knowing overall he was bigger than you. You knew you were in for it, and that he was most definitely going to torment you with his size. But you still couldn't help but ask, “Is that going to fit?”

“Cute,” He chuckled lowly, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. You whimpered as he pressed his erection against your throbbing cunt. “You're gonna take it all, sweetheart. Got it? I'm gonna make this pretty little virgin pussy mine.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip as he teasingly dragged his cock against your soaking entrance. With no warning, he pushed into you. Your eyes flew open, feeling the stretch as he stopped, allowing you to get used to his size.

“So fuckin’ tight,” He gritted out, slowly rocked his hips to inch himself in more. Tears stung the back of your eyes at the discomfort, and your hands curled around the edge of your desk to brace yourself. He placed one hand on the table and wrapped the other around your waist. “Don't be afraid to hurt me, princess.”

He kept his pace, waiting until you were moaning and wrapping your arms around him before going even deeper. But, you were getting impatient, using your legs to pull him all the way in, despite the pain that shot through you at your movements. The cry that left your mouth mixed with his own pleasured moan that he tried to hide by burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“More,” You whined, a tear rolling down your cheek. “Getō, please. I want more.”

He groaned, pushing in on your back until you were arched perfectly for him as he leaned back to look, “You're so fucking needy. Hurting yourself for my cock. Is that what you want more of? Be a big girl, use your words.”

He wiped the stray tear away, watching as your eyes briefly fluttered closed. He couldn't help but admire how adorable you looked. Your face red, exposed chest heaving as you tried to adjust to how deep in you he was.

“I want your cock,” A sharp noise left your mouth as your hand found the base of his neck. “Please. I– I want you to fuck me.”

He thrusted into you, the noises you made like music to his ears. If you didn't care about the pain you were in, he wasn't going to either. Your yelps were followed by your nails digging into his skin, allowing him to be as rough as he wanted with you.

You locked your legs around his waist, hardly allowing him any room besides short yet deep thrusts. But as he worked himself in as far as he could go, you noticed him picking up speed. He drilled into you, your pained cries slowly becoming more pleasured with each thrust. All you could think about was how he felt inside you. How the friction of his cock moving against your tight walls made you feel like every nerve in your body was on fire.

“Suguru,” An airy moan left your mouth that had his rhythm faltering. “Feels s’good. I wanna… Wanna…”

God, he wished you could see how fucked out you looked right now. Eyelids half open, a lost look in your eyes as if you were seeing stars. His own jumped to the mirrors behind you, an idea forming in his head as he pulled you closer to him. You weren't even on the table anymore, the only thing holding you up was your own arm and leg strength as he gripped your hips and forced your body up and down on his cock.

The slightest change in position made all the difference as you already felt a tightening in your abdomen. You couldn't form words as you wound your hands into his hair.

“You wanted to cum, princess,” He growled out. “So do it.”

As if on command, that tight coil finally snapped, letting the feeling of pure euphoria overtake you. Getō’s lips crashed against yours as you started to cry out, silencing you almost completely. You mewled against his mouth, clamping down around his cock so tight he had to hold back his own moans. He kept up his brutal pace until you had fully rode out your high in a series of spasms that had you jerking violently and nearly in tears as you could finally feel just how raw he had rode you.

He pulled out, a noise of discomfort pushing past your lips as he set you down. He let out a laugh before spinning you around and roughly bending you over the vanity. He leaned down before growling out in your ear, “I'm not done with you yet, brat. I'm gonna fuck you ‘till you can't remember why you hate me.”

You let out a whimper as he lined himself back up with your entrance, slowly thrusting into you. He let out a slew of curses as you sucked him back in, wrapping his arm over your abdomen. As soon as his hand trailed over your skin and stopped at your clit, he pulled you up just enough to grab your chin, turning your head so you could see yourself in the mirror.

Sweat was running down your forehead, your eyes almost crossed as he began toying with you once again.

“See that? How dumb you look for my touch?” Getō snarled, bucking his hips upward. You watched as your mouth dropped open, no noises leaving you even though you wanted to moan. “See how ridiculous you look for my cock, despite saying you hate me? Imagine how stupid you'll look when I fill you full of my cum.”

You couldn't form a response as he railed into you, your eyes rolling back into your head as you focused on the pleasure instead of the discomfort you had felt a minute ago. You gripped the ledge of the table, keeping yourself steady as it rocked underneath his force.

His fingers moved around your sensitive bud, kneading at you as he spurred himself on. He wasn't gentle, but you didn't seem to mind as an abundance of whore sounds we're finally flowing from your mouth. You couldn't think, still couldn't speak, and he was absolutely correct.

You looked like a fucking idiot.

Not because of the pleasured expressions crossing your features, but because of the fact he had you in this state when yesterday you were running your mouth about how you’d never touch him with a ten foot pole over a kissing scene. Now look at you, squirming underneath him as he hit it from behind and nearly had you in tears from how good he was making you feel.

He adored the sight, relishing in the fact that he had made you weak. Who knew all it would take was a few suggestive comments that you had every right to turn down? Because somewhere under all the hatred, you did want him. You finally had him, buried deep inside you and stretching you out more than you had thought possible.

There was no doubt in his mind you'd hate yourself in the morning. Because you'd be sore and worn out, but also because Getō was determined to not let you forget this. He had no issues with you, didn't even hate you. But, he was over your loud mouth and whatever issues you had with him. He was pissed off and he had been itching to let you have it. Although, this was not at all what he had in mind.

Never did he picture he’d be stealing your virginity, let alone fucking you dumb at work of all places. Anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone walking by could hear your sharp noises because you couldn't keep yourself contained.

It was all happening so fast, you slurred over your words as you tried to tell him you were close once again. Getō didn't need to be told though. He could feel you clenching around him, causing his own movements to become sloppy and out of rhythm as he used his free hand to place his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

As you once again came around his cock, he felt himself close to the edge as well. His strokes went long and deep, becoming faster each time he thrusted into you.

“M’gonna cum,” he groaned out. “Gonna fill up your pretty little cunt.”

You whined against his fingers as he pushed into you one last time, breathing out heavily. He made good on his promise, allowing his hot seed to paint your tight walls white. You could’ve sworn you were seeing stars as you tried to calm down. He lightly rested his forehead on your shoulder before softly kissing your skin.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he murmured, pulling out and away from you. You stood back up and turned to look at him in confusion, wondering why he was being nice. You expected him to just leave, but here he was, offering to take care of you.

“What?” He raised a brow. “Aftercare is important, don’t let anyone tell you differently. Especially with this being your first time, there’s no way you’re not bleeding.”

You scoffed, “Don’t act like you care. You got what you wanted, you can go now.”

“What do you mean by that?” Confusion clouded his features, having no idea what you were insinuating.

You looked away, folding your arms over your chest, “Gojo told me that you said I’d never amount to anything, and that I’d be just another washed up actress.”

“You will be if you keep listening to his dumbass,” Getō rolled his eyes, gently grabbing your chin. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

This time when he called you that, it wasn’t full of sarcasm. You dragged your eyes up to meet his, seeing that he was completely serious as he said, “I think you’re great at what you do. I never said that about anyone. As for why Gojo told you that… I’ll give you one guess.”

This guess didn’t need to be said out loud. You knew Gojo was the type to get around. You frowned, mad at yourself for believing him. You should be the one to apologize, not Geto. But as you went to do just that, he caught you by the mouth. Once again taken off guard, he let out a soft chuckle.

“Don’t apologize. You can’t help that you’re naive.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “Naive enough to let some old perve take my virginity.”

TAGS: @slut-for-serotonin @bxnten @queen-flower @rinsie @kennyb0y @portfolio-of-dreams @minoozi @chaoticyuna @sh4nn @sano-obsessed @chifuyuslilkitten @rozcdust @hibiscus-san @arosora @sanemishina @bontensbabygirl @izanasqueen @chronic-claire-universe @brownsugarmoonie @todorokiskitten @meena-in-a-nutshell @yukihime-mikeys-girl @softtashoney @zuuki @bluebellzie @rindousprincess @mortuary-ossuary @yeagerfushiguro

A/N: my pussy wrote this for me. don't let it flop i was on whore behavior for this 😩

his redemption | 02 | bakugo x reader

synopsis ⤸

after unknowingly moving in next door to a renown gang-leader, you are thrust into a foreign world tainted by the scars of his past. will you be able to help him redeem his sins before they finally catch up to him?

chapters ⤸

៚ contents

៚ prev

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, dark fic, gang au, gang-leader! bakugo, doctor! reader, one night stands, friends with benefits, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, graphic depictions of violence, kidnappings, mentions of blood, dubcon

word count ⤸

6.5k

a/n ⤸

so, i had planned to get this chapter out much sooner, but i kinda had a mini hiatus (oops). but! it’s here—finally—n i really hope that it’s worth the wait, bc almost a quarter of this wc is smut, smut, smut. enjoy!

reblogs are appreciated ~

two:

you do not see nor hear any sign of bakugo for over three weeks. 

the morning after his disappearance, you’d thrown out the bedsheets—the fabric stained an ugly shade of crimson—cursing between gritted teeth all the way to the outside dumpster. but despite your grievances, the medicinal instinct that festers inside you prevents you from resisting the urge to wonder at just how well his injuries are healing. he’s just a stranger, you try your best to remember, but that doesn’t stop the way that your stare seeks out the chipped green paint that coats the surface of his apartment door when you leave for work each morning. 

since the day that you’d moved in, new neighbour denki has taken to inviting you out for drinks, enthusiastic as he insists upon the notion of the two of you getting to know each other better. neighbours should be friends too, he’d gushed. or something along those lines; you hadn’t really been listening, because at that exact moment, you could have sworn that you’d seen a flash of blonde hair out on the balcony. without warning, you’d pelted down the hallway, denki gawking after you, baffled, as you yanked the door open with an unnecessary force. 

and much to your annoyance, the balcony had been empty. 

after peering over the railing, craning your neck both left and right—just to see if he’d walked off down towards the gardens—you’d heaved an exaggerated sigh before returning to denki, shoulders slumped with disappointment. 

the blonde had scratched the back of his neck, sheepish at the look on your face, but still dared to ask, ‘so, uh, drinks? on friday?’

‘friday,’ you had relented, giving confirmation without much thought. 

and so, right now, you’re balanced upon your tiptoes to lean closer to the bathroom mirror, applying a clear lipgloss to match the thin coating of mascara that had been hurriedly brushed over your lashes just a few moments before. dressed casually, you’re not all that bothered about putting in too much effort into an outing that you’re not really in the mood for, and yet, thinking of the boyish grin that had brightened denki’s face when you’d agreed has guilt forming somewhere in the depths of your stomach. the blonde is sweet enough, from what you’ve gathered, and you definitely aren’t opposed to befriending him, so, despite your lack of enthusiasm, you check your hair and makeup one last time before shuffling out to the bedroom to slip on your heels. exhaling, you make your way out of the door, locking it shut before you click, clack your way down the hall towards denki’s door. 

you barely manage to tap your knuckles against the door once before it flies open to reveal a dark haired woman, with equally as dark eyes that narrow slightly as she greets you.

‘new neighbour, i assume,’ she stretches out a hand towards you and you accept the handshake, forcing a smile. you haven’t a clue as to who she is, and she seems to have guessed your line of thinking, as she then reveals her name, ‘i’m jiro.’ 

‘nice to meet you,’ you offer, shifting on the spot, tension locking your spine rigid. she’s still staring at you, open with her blatant show of distrust, but you’re soon freed from her scrutiny as denki suddenly appears, beaming brightly as he bounds out into the hallway. 

‘hey!’ 

lips parting to greet him, you’re smiling once more, only to clam up as soon as the blonde bounds forward, wrapping his arms around you into a tight hug that forces a stuttered, surprised laugh that is choked from out of your mouth. bewildered, you catch jiro’s gaze as she watches with a bored expression, ‘he’s had a few already,’ is all she offers. 

‘oh,’ you manage to exhale, returning denki’s hug with less vigour, patting his shoulder once, twice, before retreating from the embrace. 

‘didn’t think you were gonna come,’ he pouts, before pointing to jiro, his grin widening, ‘have you met jiro yet? she’s my friend—whose a girl. she’s my girlfriend.’ 

you’re unable to ascertain as to whether he means that literally, but still, jiro’s cheeks appear to redden at this statement and you’re unable to stop the way that your mouth tilts into a gentle smile, ‘i have, yes.’ 

‘idiot,’ jiro grumbles, shoving a hand against the small of denki’s back, pushing. ‘let’s go, else we’ll be late.’ 

denki takes off first, dragging you along with him, and on the way out, you blink towards number 34, stare lingering upon the silver-coated numbers nailed into the door’s surface as denki tugs you towards the exit. jiro is close behind, having securely locked the apartment, hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie as she walks at a much more leisurely pace. 

when the three of you reach the bar that is conveniently situated just down the road from where you now live, after choosing a booth that is furthest away from the entrance, you are, admittedly, grateful when you receive your choice of drink in record timing. sipping at your flavoursome cocktail, you peer around the tropical themed environment, soca music playing in the background. you’re still new to the area, so you’re unfamiliar with this particular establishment, but it doesn’t take too long for you to decide that you appreciate it, despite the crowd of people that seems to grow larger with every passing minute. 

‘so,’ denki leans a little closer, so close that you’re actually able to recognise the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, ‘how are things at the clinic?’ 

nose crinkling, you’d almost forgotten that you’d told him about your line of work. allowing your purse to slip from your shoulder and onto the seat beside you, denki watches as you relax into the plush leather of the back of the booth. ‘it’s been a long week,’ you admit, attempting a smile that you hope will hide your exhaustion. ‘a very long week.’ 

‘betcha glad to get a drink down ya,’ he grins toothily. upon glancing down at the froth-rimmed glass that’s been abandoned on the table, you see that he’s already finished his first beer, eagerly awaiting his second.

you manage a small laugh, ‘it’s very much needed.’ you notice that jiro has barely touched her drink, not really paying attention to the conversation as she stares off to the side, eyes glazed over. blinking your attention back toward denki, you take another sip of your drink, ‘what about you? how’s work for you?’ 

denki waves a hand dismissively, ‘still on probation ‘cause of my contract with the agency. i don’t see why they won’t just hire me—the kids love me already and i’m amazing.’ 

you hadn’t been at all surprised when the blonde had told you that he was aiming to be a teaching assistant in the sports department at the local primary school, during a conversation that the two of you had had when he’d politely offered to help shift the seemingly endless stack of moving boxes into your apartment. it’s just the type of job that suits him, you think, and you don’t doubt that the kids like him—hell, you’re already warming up to him. 

‘they have regulations,’ jiro reminds him, suddenly joining the conversation. ‘they can’t just ignore them just because you happen to be good at your job. you’re still learning.’ 

‘well, i’m way better than the guy they actually have,’ denki protests. ‘he’s, like, seventy and can’t kick a ball at all. what the hell does he know about football?’ you hide your smile as jiro mumbles a comment that doesn’t reach your line of hearing. but denki seems to hear, a devilish grin playing the corner of his mouth. ‘that’s not what you were saying last—’

jiro manages to silence him by aiming a particularly hard jab to the blonde’s ribcage, but denki simply explodes with a loud bark of infectious laughter, only silencing when the waiter passes by to hand out the next round of drinks. you haven’t yet finished your first, choosing to quickly down the rest of it when you see the fresh glass that jiro slides over to you. 

and for the next few hours, the three of you consume a lot more alcohol than you had initially planned. 

by the time the clock on your mobile phone reads past one am, you’re a little more than tipsy. your temples are throbbing as your cheek presses to the palm of your hand, elbow precariously balanced upon the edge of the table, and you will yourself to remain awake as you watch denki challenge jiro to a game of cards. from where they got the stack from, you don’t know, beyond out of it to bring yourself to care. 

it is halfway through their third game when you sense someone watching you. the bar is now a lot busier than it had been when you’d first arrived, now crammed with a body count that is too large to sum up; most dancing, others nursing drinks at the bar. the volume of the music is now louder, so much so that you’re even struggling to hear your companions’ voices as they bicker over their game. 

‘you’re cheatin’!’ denki slurs heavily, but you aren’t paying enough attention to ascertain the accuracy of his accusation. 

eyes glancing around the bar as thoroughly as you can manage whilst this inebriated, you recognise that you’re searching for a needle in a haystack. it’s dizzying, looking at so many faces at once, and after a just a moment, you’re about to give up, only for your gaze to suddenly land upon a familiar face. 

kirishima stares right back at you from his seat at the bar, the stool beside him, empty. 

and much to your surprise, his welcome is almost immediate, his head tilting to beckon you forth, inviting you over. you hesitate, unsure. however, you’re also drunk, and so very curious, and so, it takes all of two seconds for you to stand from your seat. 

‘where you goin’?’ denki bellows over the music. 

‘i just saw a… friend,’ you blurt quickly. ‘i’ll be back in a minute—save my seat!’ 

denki nods, looking a little hesitant to let you go, but then jiro is distracting him with a touch to his cheek and his gaze is shifting, softening as he looks at her instead. you’re grinning, deciding to take your purse with you, snatching it from the spare seat before weaving through the crowd until you reach kirishima. 

he’s still staring, you realise, reluctantly perching upon the stool next to him when he points at it. he’s drinking alone, you note, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey as he leans a little closer so that you can hear him speak over the music, ‘what d'you want to drink?’ 

shifting in your seat, you’re hesitating again.  you don’t know this man, and yet, you’re unable to understand why his presence comforts you so. maybe it’s the alcohol that you’ve consumed, or maybe it’s the briefest of smiles that pulls at the corner of his mouth, but without meaning to, you’re already beginning to let down your guard. 

‘a woo-woo,’ the apples of your cheeks feel warm, self-conscious of the girlish choice of drink, even more so with kirishima looking at you with an amused quirk of his brow.  

‘’m not even surprised,’ he comments, before flagging down the bartender and reciting your order. as you wait, you fish into the depths of your purse for some money, holding it out to kirishima, who immediately rejects it. ‘this one’s on me,’ he insists when you stammer a protest, going as far as pushing the money back into the palm of your hand. dejectedly, you realise that he’s not going to allow you to pay, and so you drop the money back into your purse, zipping it shut with an exaggerated sigh. the bartender returns with your cocktail and kirishima hands over a paper-note that values a lot more than what your drink costs. ‘keep the change,’ he offers, and the bartender nods once before disappearing to tend to another customer. 

taking a long sip of your drink, you welcome the familiar rush of alcohol as it warms the back of your throat, looking up to watch kirishima down the remaining dregs of his whiskey, appearing to be much more sober than you are. swallowing down another mouthful, you sit upright, pushing back a loose tendril of baby hair that tickles the nape of your neck. the exhaustion that weighs on your shoulders is heavy, only accentuated by the alcohol that buzzes a fire in your stomach, and your eyelids blink rapidly in an attempt to keep you alert. 

‘didn’t know you were pals with jiro,’ you just manage to hear the low drawl of kirishima’s voice, his form towering as he leans closer so that you can hear him better. eyes darting over to where the couple are huddled together—still engaged in their increasingly heated game of solitaire—your head tilts. he doesn’t elaborate as to how he’s acquainted with jiro. 

a shoulder raises, ‘denki is my neighbour. he invited me out for drinks.’ your words slur, the syllables dragged along with each lilt of your voice, but that doesn’t stop you from consuming more of your beverage. it was free, after all. kirishima orders another drink—beer, this time—and you are surprised, bewildered, when the bartender doesn’t charge him. they must be more than acquaintances, you conclude, despite the fact that you (wrongly) suspect kirishima as a man with few friends. the two of you drink together in a comfortable silence, and it isn’t until the clock ticks past two am that kirishima offers to walk you home. stumbling as you scramble from your stool, you make to decline, ‘i-it’s okay. i’ll walk with—’

only, when you spin to flag down denki—pretending that the motion doesn’t make your temples throb horribly—to your drunken horror, he’s nowhere in sight. and neither is jiro. 

kirishima’s hand dares to touch your elbow, tugging you to his side to prevent you from falling over. ‘i sent them home.’ 

your neck cranes as you attempt to squint up at him. baffled, you struggle to recall him committing such a feat, but, struggle, you do, because as drunk as you are, you’re certain that you haven’t seen him talking to neither denki or jiro tonight.

a large arm curling around the width of your shoulders, kirishima is already steering you towards the exit, and you are given very little choice in the matter, reluctantly allowing him to accompany you home. there’s no harm, you relent, considering the fact that he already knows where you live, the short walk home quiet, save for the click-clack of your heels upon the pavement. when the two of you come to a halt at your front door, you just remember to offer a quiet thanks, muted around the slur of your tongue.

kirishima leans against the doorframe, suppressing a bemused twitch of his lips as he watches you attempt to push your key into the lock. it takes several tries, your fingers trembling, but eventually, the lock clicks, the door inching open when you push the palm of your hand to it. but before you step inside, you loiter, pupils dilating as they focus onto kirishima once more. 

‘how is he?’ 

the redhead regards you with an expression that you can no longer read. 

you swallow thickly, eventually deciding that he’s not going to answer as several long seconds pass by without a word shared between the two of you. 

‘he’s better,’ he breaks his silence, eyes watching as you kick off your heels by the door, exhaling a moan of relief as the pads of your feet mould into the carpeted flooring. ‘told you—he’s had worse,’ he pushes his weight from the wall, making to leave. 

absentmindedly, you tug at the blossom shaped keyring that ochaco had gifted you some years ago, the charm catching the light that shines in from the hallway as it dangles from your keys. 

‘make sure he takes the tablets i gave you,’ you mumble, brows pinching together because of the headache that is beginning to throb at your temples. you press an index finger to your lips, bile rising to the back of your throat.

kirishima stares at you, hesitant, ‘you good?’ 

waving a hand, you dismiss his concern, but when he still doesn’t move, you force a smile, assuring him that you’re just fine. 

‘hm,’ he hums, eyes narrowing, dubious, as if he doesn’t believe you. but you’re already beginning to close the door on him, barely managing to remember to thank him once again for walking you home. key twisting into the lock once more, you don’t bother to check if he’s actually left, hurrying to the kitchen to pour a large glass of water in the hopes that it’ll quash the nausea that churns at your stomach. 

it’s when you’re sat on the settee, downing a third pint when a thundering knock at the door startles you so much so, that you almost spill the remainder of your drink as you rush to place the glass down onto the coffee table. forcing yourself to your feet, you press an index finger to the bridge of your nose, and the ache that throbs there is now muted, but still very much present. marginally sobered by the consumption of water, you’re able to make your way down the hall, unlocking the door with ease this time, allowing it swing open. only, the face that greets you is one that has your brows twitching upwards, surprised.

bakugo leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he peers down at you, watching as you stare right back, unsure of how to greet him. kirishima had been right; the blonde looks miles better than he had when you’d last seen him. his eyes are heavily lidded, idle as they drag along the length of your body, pausing upon the stretch of your legs as he takes in your lack of attire, and you think that you can vaguely remember managing to pull your jeans off not long after you’d finished the first pint of water. 

clad in just an oversized jumper, you squirm under his stare, thighs pressing together just as your arms raise to cross over your chest. 

‘shitty hair said you were drunk,’ bakugo drawls, breaking the silence. the low baritone of his voice travels through your ears and settles right into the pit of your stomach. grimacing, you avoid his gaze, pointedly focusing on the fact that he refers to kirishima as ‘shitty hair’. 

licking at your dry lips, your toes buried into the carpet, you fail to notice the flick of bakugo’s eyes focusing on the shape of your mouth, your own trained in on his abdomen, where his t-shirt hides the injury that you’d stitched just a few weeks ago. 

‘can i check it?’ 

his spine is already straightening, making to follow you inside with an eager step forward just as you stumble backwards. quicker than you can process, his hand darts out, the width of his palm curling around your arm, steadying your balance in order to prevent your fall. the heat of his hand is scorching, rivalled only by the warmth that burns beneath the surface of your skin, your cheeks burning. murmuring a thanks, you tug yourself free from his grasp, shifting to the side to allow him to pass. he glides past you easily, already disappearing down the small hallway and toward the bedroom, leaving you to lock the door, where you lean against it as you gather your resolve.

what are you doing? 

you try to focus on the fact that he’s a stranger—god damn it—hesitating with your fingers curling around the hem of your jumper. blinking in the direction of the bedroom, you debate on as to whether you should just kick him out and demand that he gets himself checked at the hospital instead. but you’re no fool. even in your drunken state, you have enough wit about you to understand that that stab wound was no accident. someone had hurt him, deliberately, and because he’d been so stubbornly adamant on no hospitals when you had suggested it the first time, it’s hard to not jump to conclusions. still, you can’t stop yourself from suspecting that his lifestyle isn’t entirely on the legal side, especially if his scars are anything to go by. 

no, you decide. for a reason that you dare not dwell on, for now, his treatment is your responsibility.

and so, you wobble on the tips of your toes as you reach to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen cupboard, swallowing thickly as you shuffle your way into the bedroom. to your surprise, bakugo is already sat the end of the bed, his shirt scrunched beneath the fingers of his left hand, and you will your gaze away from the expanse of his tanned chest, temples throbbing as you move to switch the bedroom lamp on, shifting to kneel before him. 

the heat of his stare is molten, lids heavy as he regards you with an expression that you can’t decipher with your head spinning like this. your hands shake as you reach for the makeshift bandage that either he—or kirishima—has wrapped around the sharp lines of his torso, gently peeling it from his skin with an apprehensive crinkle of your nose. pleased to see that your stitches are still in place, you hum as you lean a tad closer to inspect the wound, the caress of your breath tickling the cut of his muscles. it’s scabbing nicely, you note, using your thumb to gently press around the wound, pausing when his abs constrict, a low grunt huffed out over the top of your head.

‘sorry,’ you mumble, turning your attention to the first aid kit. mind still fuzzy with intoxication, you’re a little slow with opening it, squinting as you busy yourself with cleaning around the wound before applying a fresh bandage—much neater than his own, if not a tad wonky due to your inebriation. ‘’s healing perfectly,’ you tell him, voice quiet. 

his next inhale is sharp, twisted around the shape of a soundless snarl as you press against a particularly sore spot, making sure the bandage is fixed in place. ‘great,’ he spits, glaring. 

‘if you want,’ you start, clearing your throat when your words begin to slur once again. ‘i can check it again next week… the stitches should have fallen out by then, but, uh, just in case…?’ 

‘’kay,’ is all he replies with, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. he’s yet to make a move to put it back on, watching you pack the first aid kit away with sluggish movements. 

‘okay?’ you repeat, bleary eyed as you focus your stare upon his face; you hadn’t expected him to actually agree. 

the corner of his mouth twitches, and again, you’re subjected to a heat that prickles the back of your neck, the reds of his eyes narrowing as they focus on the nervous bob of your throat. ‘so,’ he grunts, expression morphing into one that is less friendly. ‘i still owe you.’ 

you frown, ‘don’t want you to owe me.’ it then occurs to you that you’re still knelt before him, and for a moment, it feels as if your headache is worsening, your index finger massaging at your temple. ‘i did it because i wanted to.’ 

that, and it’s hard to say no to someone who is bleeding all over your bed, you daren’t add. 

it is bakugo’s brows that form a frown this time. 

‘i don’t like owin’ people,’ he insists. he shifts on the mattress, as if ready to stand, only to stiffen when he also clocks onto the fact that you’re still knelt before him. ‘what’s your price?’ 

your eyes flicker a little lower, focusing on the shape of his mouth before you blink, vision a tad hazy, your cheeks warm.  ‘nothing.’

‘people don’t do anythin’—‘specially not savin’ someone’s life—for free,’ he argues, eyes hard, jaw wound tight. ‘tell me what you want in return.’ 

you can feel the beginnings of annoyance prickling at your nerves, fists clenching where they rest on your bare thighs. you suddenly feel a lot more sober. ‘i’m a doctor, which you already know—how do you know that, by the way?—saving lives is kinda what i do.’ 

he dodges your question, nostrils flaring as he demands, ‘tell me what you want.’

again, your gaze is slipping lower, blinking towards his lips once more, before your eyes snap upwards, focusing on his. and much to your surprise, the reds of his irises have darkened to a burning crimson that has the depths of your stomach knotting with something akin to molten lava. or so you think—maybe the alcohol is warping your ability to read expressions?

but apparently not, because now he’s leaning forward, the length of his spine curling as his ribs shift to accommodate his position. stupefied, you watch as he looms over you, the width of his thighs shifting—parting, you note with a dry swallow—and he’s so close that you can hear each inward drag of his breath as he inhales, lungs wheezing with the effort. 

intoxication has your pupils dilating, the blackened orbs widening as his fingers twitch, his breath fanning across the slope of your cheek as he repeats, the low drag of his voice catching on the rise of a barely concealed groan, ‘tell me what you want.’ 

and then, before you can process what you’re actually doing—because, really, what the hell are you doing?—your hands are reaching up, the tips of your fingers brushing against his skin as they dance along the length of his jaw. you’re hesitating, however, hands frozen where they rest upon his cheeks, appalled by the audacity of your own actions. you make to pull away, but before you’re given the chance to regret what you’ve done, his hands come to hold yours in place, the lengths of his fingers calloused and ridiculously hot against the backs of your own. unblinking, his eyes bore into yours as he slowly guides your hands down his face, tracing along the length of his neck, allowing you to feel the thump, thump, thump of his pulse beneath the pads of your fingers. 

up close, you dare to trace your thumb over the plush of his bottom lip, ignoring the jump of your heart when the corner of his mouth curls upwards, the stretch of his mouth forming into the shape of a smirk. your fingertips trace the annoyingly perfect ridge of his nose, brushing over his cheekbones until you press against the beauty mark on his chin, so minuscule that you’d’ve missed it if not for the fact that he’s encouraging the exploration of your touch as he leans a little closer. 

maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just because he’s stupidly, ridiculously, unfairly beautiful, but your gaze is awed, welcoming the wiggle of his fingers curling into the strands of your hair. he pulls, the length of your neck exposed as it stretches to follow the way that he forces your head back, his own lowering until his mouth hovers just centimetres from yours. his gaze is smouldering as he studies you, licking his bottom lip at the sight of your hair wrapped around his fingers, your eyes heavily lidded—with intoxication or lust, he cannot tell. 

‘tell me what you want,’ he murmurs, breath ghosting over your lips. he feels the way that you tremble against him and he shifts closer, trapping you between the broad stretch of his thighs.  

your hands are stroking over his collarbones, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation of your skin tickling his. still kneeling, you have to stretch to reach for his shoulders, your arms curling around the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against his scalp as you pull him closer. 

‘you.’

he immediately complies, mouth moulding to yours, hot and wet and feverous. the taste of him is overwhelming, dizzying, the glide of his tongue urgent as it explores the shape of your mouth, your toes curling into the carpet as he does so. the crooks of your fingers gripping his hair, twisting until he’s groaning, the blunts of his teeth dragging over your bottom lip, nipping until you’re gasping along with him.

you know that you’ll probably regret this in the morning, but all second thoughts are thrown out of the window as he reaches for you, hands suddenly grasping at your waist and hoisting you—with an ease that makes your head spin—up, up, up, until you’ve joined him on the bed, legs curling around his waist. kissing you until you’re struggling for breath, his fingers are sneaking beneath the hem of your jumper, a groan rumbling from the back of his throat as one hand grips you with an impressive strength, the other skimming against your stomach, all knuckles and wide palms. his fingertips reach to trace the curve of your breast, and the steady pace of your kiss now falters when you pause to gasp into the sharp jut of his jaw. 

you thank the gods for your intuitive decision to forgo a bra this evening, keening as his thumb—wetted by a quick swipe of his tongue—brushes over the peak of your nipple, pinching until you grace him with another breathy sigh that pitches when his teeth drag over the pulse at your throat. you know that it’ll bruise, and still, you encourage him with an experimental roll of your hips, your clothed pussy seeking a friction that can only be sated by the bulge that is rapidly hardening with each brush of your groin to his. grunting, there’s a perspiration that is forming on the nape of his neck, one that is ignored in favour of him rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger, tongue expertly tracing circles down to the length of your collarbone, his hair tickling at your nose. you’re stifling a giggle, abdomen tensing and your tits bouncing as he huffs, feigning annoyance as he grumbles something about you ruining the mood whilst hiding his widening grin with a press to your sternum. his lips seek yours again, his fingers ghosting over the dip of your waist, and your breath catches on a moan when his hips jut, rolling, teasing. 

the palms of his hands splay themselves over the curve of your rear, encouraging the slow grind that has your thighs clenching with the effort. beneath you, his breath stutters, a short, strained groan punched from the bottom of his stomach, one that vibrates the bump of his adam’s apple as he tugs you up and down his pulsing length, his cock burning a ferocious heat through the cotton of his sweatpants. the drag of your pussy is one that has his blood humming, one that entices a pitched mewl—which he swallows down greedily, selfishly—his tongue tracing yours, bare chest warming yours as he reaches to tear your woollen jumper up and over your head. 

unceremoniously, it’s discarded upon the floor, and he’s fumbling for the tie on his sweatpants, shoving them down just enough so that you now feel the naked inferno of his cock, insistently pressing against the crook of your thigh. stomach coiling with excitement, your lungs expand and contract, struggling to suck in air fast enough, and struggling further so when he’s tonguing at the roof of your mouth like that. there’s a gentle stroke across your hip, his knuckles bumping along your inner thigh as impatience has him roughly tugging your underwear to the side. nerves have you tensing at the first touch, his index and middle fingers slipping between your velvety folds, delving into the pool of sap that drools from the very hole that he seeks. your legs tighten around his waist, aware enough as to not bump against his bandage as you adjust your knees, and that’s when you realise that he’s watching your face closely, your eyelids fluttering when the width of his fingers breach the opening of your pussy, gummy walls contracting around the bump of his knuckles that gently twist inside you. 

desperate, you cry out against his mouth, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip once more, your nails biting into the corded muscles of his biceps. it isn’t long until his fingers are withdrawing, your hips chasing after them, a whinge of protest spilling out of your mouth before you can muffle it. he’s chuckling breathily, deeply, breath hot on the shell of your ear. 

‘patience.’ 

and you don’t have to be patient for long. he’s guiding the length of his cock past the tight stretch of your cunt in one long thrust, his eyes screwing shut as he hilts, balls pressed tight to the plump of your rear, a chest-heaving groan expelled down the canal of your eardrum. the tickle of his public hair brushes over your clit, your toes curling just so, and hunger has your hips rolling, seeking friction. 

‘f-fuck,’ bakugo grunts, sweat trickling down his jaw as he inhales a stuttered breath. he withdraws slowly, testing the tremble of your thighs, before his hips cant upwards, harder, faster with each stroke. 

he sets a brutal pace, his grip bruising as he fucks into your dribbling heat over and over and over, and above him, you moan loudly, able to do very little other than cling on, fingers scrambling to find leverage upon his shoulders. he crushes your mouths together, tongue rapidly seeking yours as you attempt to keep up with his kisses, dizzied with the scent of him; addicted to the taste of him. the two of you are a tangle of limbs upon the bed, the room beginning to ooze with the stench of your alcohol-infused act, his name repeatedly slurred past your lips as your pussy secretes a mess that aids the wet schlick, schlick, schlick of his balls slapping against the round of your behind. your skin is damp—sticky—with the tantalising sap that seeps from the fluttering walls of your cunt, creaming a mess around the width of his slick-coated girth, and this only seems to spear him on, the slick sound of your connection accentuated with each rough drag of his hips as he drills into the pulsing heat of your cunt at such a pace that you struggle to catch your breath. 

abruptly, he stills, cock buried within the cushioning of your inner walls, the scratch of his pubic hair grinding over your clit—just right there—encouraging the sudden snapping of the coil in your stomach. nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, your tone pitches, keening on the syllables of bakugo’s name, your toes curling where your legs are crossed behind his back. your legs tremble as he fuck, fuck, fucks you through your climax, groaning as your juices aid the slip-and-slide of his cock drilling in tune to the flutter of your gummy walls that tighten around his base with a cheek-warming squelch. the sensation is addictive, even with the trickle of cream that is pooling a mess all over his balls, and it’s almost with regret when he can feel the tell-tale electric bite that jolts deep in his abdomen, a sharp warning of his fast-approaching peak. 

he shifts to lie flat on his back, dragging you along with him with a choked moan when your fingers knot into the tresses of his hair, pulling. the curves of his muscles bulge, biceps tensing as he shifts you higher upon his lap, both of his arms encircling the circumference of your waist in order to hold you in place as his pace becomes sloppier with his yearning need to come undone. 

clit thrumming with oversensitivity, you breathe a whimper into the warmth of his neck, suckling at the sweat-dampened skin as his cock repeatedly pistons its way past the aching opening of your cunt, the new angle coaxing a sharp cry against his collarbone. he exclaims something utterly guttural in reply—a groan, or a growl, you can’t decipher—evidence of his own bliss spilling past his lips as he chases his own climax. it doesn’t take much longer, his hips slick with sweat as he comes undone with a bellow, his seed finally claiming home inside the snug curve of your cunny, painting the plush of your cervix white. he’s loud, gasping and choking in between a series of growls that serve to encourage the weak throb that pulses between your legs, thrusting once, twice, thrice, until his hips falter, prick beginning to soften until it finally slips free from the safety of your cunt. there’s a gush, followed by a tacky, drooling web of opalescent that oozes from between your folds, the puffy shape of your pussy now swollen with arousal as it clenches, releasing another seepage of semen that dribbles a path onto the mattress, leaving a sticky, glistening mess in its wake. fighting to catch his breath, his grip tightens, his fingers splayed as his palm strokes over the length of your spine.

spent, his head rests, the apple of his cheek pressed to your shoulder, panting as his fingers rake over your sweat-drenched hair. your weight is slumped atop him, weak-kneed and breathless, and there, the two of you remain, embracing until the tempo of your pulse dwindles into a pace that doesn’t make your head spin. it is you who moves first, detangling your limbs from his and standing upon trembling legs when you rise from the bed. he seems reluctant as he allows you to withdraw, fingertips brushing over the dip of your back before you step out of reach, his eyes narrowing in on the way that the muscles of your thighs protest, aching as you both begin to fix your clothing back in place. 

a short while later, you’re guiding him to the door, hyperaware of the weight of his stare that lingers on the blemishes that litter your throat. the door is unlocked with a click! and you’re expecting him to make his escape immediately. however, to your surprise, he’s leaning closer, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, before moulding his lips to yours, greedily tasting the inside of your cheeks yet again. his thumb soothes a calloused path down the slope of your chin, fiery irises burning into the depths of yours before he tears himself from the comfort of you, sauntering down the hall towards the exit, not looking back. you loiter by the doorway, watching until his head ducks, disappearing from your line of sight, before you retreat into the safety of your apartment, legs quivering as you slowly make your way back to your bed. 

you awake the next morning, regretful, his mark tainting your skin. 

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

i need to learn how to work this app so i can post my books on here😭

I LOVE WHEN YOU DO THAT ! ── aot + jjk men.

ᨳ  ࣪ . 001. or - gentle, loving sex with them! ft. eren jaeger, armin arlert, gojo satoru, + geto suguru x f!reader [aot + jjk men]

ᨳ  ࣪ . 002. c/w: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, eren: (shower sex, pet names [pretty]), armin: (sleepy sex, pet names [baby]), gojo: (riding, pet names [angel]), geto: (plain old bed sex, pet names [princess]) | w/c: 1.8k

୨୧ EREN JAEGER

“You like that, don’t you, pretty?” Eren asks, smoothing his hands over your sides as he presses his cock deep inside of you.

The water from the shower streams down the both of you in a pleasant warmth, doing nothing to soothe the intense heat growing between you. His fat, leaking tip is angry and red, and you almost feel bad for Eren until he catches it along your clit, adding pressure to rub lazy circles against your aching nub. You moan as you grip onto his bicep, silently begging him for more. 

Eren has nearly had it, though, and with a desperate “Please,” falling from your lips, he nudges his fat cockhead against your entrance.

Keep reading

no face, no case • eren jaeger x black !fem reader

who knew that a simple picture posted on your Instagram could cause so much controversy? Oh…if only they knew the origin of it.

themes: just some nasty ass vacation/hotel sex, marriage proposal, marking (from the reader), foot play, drunk eren, back shots, overstim, slapping, choking..yktv

📝: sliding down a wall thinking about Eren and his influencer wife again like ughhh…this is just a little short drabble I’m totally not using an excuse to avoid finishing the full fic..never 🌚

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡

48 minutes ago

10,076 likes

location: Santorini, Greece

not exactly the reaction you were expecting to garner for a simple photo. A mere picture like the countless hundreds of others that could be found on your instagram feed..except it wasn’t!..and granted, it was nothing for you to crack one hundred thousand in a day but this?..was for a whole other reason. Reasons that had sent your entire following and the rest of the of the internet into a frenzy. Your texts practically imploding and notifications gone off the rails.

blogs like TheShadeRoom scrambling and breaking their fingers trying to post about the salacious snapshot posted from (reader’s social media name). What photo? Just a selfie taken from a ceiling mirror of the Katikies hotel room..

swaddled by crinkled white sheets and a man with long hair, tan skin, a tattoo on his right shoulder blade with various scratches on his back as he lie on top of you. Your right hand splayed across his skin and your ring finger glistening with a giant rock.

right now, you were the number one trending topic on Twitter..timeline ablaze with speculation of who was asleep in your bed. But in a not so distant past, he was wide awake, contributing to the mess you both lie in..

one hour earlier….

“F-fuck! Baby…you fucking me so good!”

the words spilling from between your drool stained lips, head tilted backwards courtesy of his fist clutched around the Brazilian wavy bundles cascading to your thin waist. The same hand held the diamonds of his buss down AP gleaming under the dimmed lighting, kept you reigned in as he tugged (y/n) back against his cock.

each inch filling you repeatedly and only getting deeper as those strokes intensified. Your thick, plump ass bouncing off the v-line of his chiseled six pack, moving fluidly like water as he pumped you full.. “I can’t help it..this pussy ‘s good, babygirl..and you creaming on my shit too, goddamnnn.”

that whiny wail coming from none other than world renowned artist and your fiancé, Eren Jaeger. Although that last part was to remain a secret until the two of you were ready to pop out and share that with the world. For now, you were celebrating your newfound engagement with passionate, rough and filthy lovemaking.

he had flew you out to the island on a last minute, spur of the moment getaway to celebrate the release of his long awaited EP and its success. Little did you know in the midst of a toast at an intimate candlelight dinner, would he fall to one knee, brandishing a small velvet box and ask you to be his wife. Without hesitation, you accepted and now, fast forward and you were being treated like his dirty little slut!

“..and imma get to fuck you like this for the rest of my life..oh shit..” so helplessly and needy rutting his hips into your bouncing backside. That tight grip of your cunt and milky cream, thanks to a thumb resting in your asshole, slathering him made it hard to keep his composure. Oh, he was so pathetic and fucking sexy as he hovered over your body.

but he always got like this with alcohol in his system. Shots of Dusse exchanged in the hot tub had led to the dark liquor coursing your veins and bringing out your nastiest sides.

from letting him dangle your head from the edge of the mattress and sloppily fuck your throat into oblivion as you drank his cum like water or sitting atop his face and gliding your pretty pussy across his lips until he sucked your sensitive clit to a squirting climax..going for rounds and rounds to give each other insurmountable pleasure. Beating your poor little walls sore with that big dick and he still was going! Now, you were hitting your second winds and it was as if he was trying to break the bed in the process.

“Aaah! Erennn..right there, you hitting my fucking spot!…gonna make m’ come all over this dick!” hearing your sweet voice cry out like that that done nothing more than to fuel his raging fire. Roping a hand underneath your thick thighs to massage your little bud;

coffin tips of the long acrylics brushing gently against your folds. Meanwhile, he had arched your back to its highest point and began pounding that dripping heat. Your mouth cradling a fluffy pillow in front of you as tried to muffle those moans but it was to no avail.

reaching across, Eren grasped that white linen and tossed it to the floor before folding himself completely over (y/n)’s back that he proceeded to mark with light kisses. Heavy full balls slapping against your slit and making your legs quiver in the process. “Then let me hear it, baby. Tell me how good it is..who that pussy belongs to.”

there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind from the way he had you clawing at the sheets and nutting all over his shaft but something about hearing it just inflated his ego. Tugging at your throat now, he’d pull you towards him to hiss in your ear as he spanked your ass. “I said let me hear that shit, mama..don’t get quiet on me now.”

without having to repeat himself twice, you’d mutter in a choked out whimper, glaring up at him with fluttering eyes and answer: “..mmm, you daddy! This pussy yours..” satisfied and quite full of himself, your future husband smirked and pulled you into a searing kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth where he drew out a trail of saliva when you parted.

in an almost lightning fast motion, he’d pull out slightly only to flip you over onto your back and fold your legs up; curling your thighs in his muscular, inked up arms. Both knees burrowed into the the memory foam, sinking down as he gathered his stance one more time. Gripping the shaft of that stiff cock, he’d tap the head against your messy sex..coaxing out more of that stickiness he craved. He couldn’t stop until you were pumped full of his nut either so with that, he’d push that thick length through your walls until you could feel it resting at the pit of your stomach.

emerald green eyes locked into your own as he stared down at your face, watching the reactions change by the second as he pinned you down and stuffed that tight pussy with every inch he could offer. Thrusting gently for only a second to slow his pacing. In that short minute, he’d glance down to spot your feet plastered to his chest…

a gold anklet with his initials and white painted toes planted to his skin. To quell your shaking, Eren slid them into his mouth and suckled as he continued to feed you deep strokes. Flicking his tongue over your instep and ankle as well.

“Oooh fuck…you know how much I love that shit, baby..”

There was no time for him to go slow..he couldn’t handle it right now..it felt too goddamn good. Suddenly, a slight bulge started forming at the base of your tummy near that dangling belly button ring…and you’d push him back almost immediately. Big mistake.

rather than holding those legs back, your throat became the next resting place of his large hands. His thumbs brushing the sides of your face at the same time.

“Move your hands, baby. Or I’m only gonna get deeper..don’t you dare try to keep this shit from me right now.” Sucking his teeth, trying to keep himself from coming right there but it was all but impossible when he’d begin to drum out small splashes of squirt from your little hole. It’d spasm and clamp every time he’d pull out and go back in. You couldn’t stop and he didn’t try to stop it either. Just slapping those nine inches against you to make it worse. “Squirt on that shit, baby. Don’t hold it from me..” giving you light taps to the cheek to bring you back to consciousness.

Eventually though, he couldn’t keep up either and those rhythmic strokes slowed to more sporadic ones as his larger frame fell cast over you. Digging your nails deeply into his muscular back, adding to the collection of scratches from earlier;

keeping him close while he hit his final stride. You’d squeeze at his base and it caused faint gasps to erupt in your ear. With his long brown locks gliding over you, (y/n) cupped that handsome face and pulled him into a searing kiss to help ease his mind. “..c-can’t hold it..’m gonna come, princess! I’m coming in this pussy—“ the last words he uttered before you’d feel his stroking come to an abrupt halt and along with a loud groan, his entire load was emptied into your womb.

“Mmmm…yes. Come in me, daddy..let it out.” Encouraging with sweet nothings and slow rubs to his back. He was pumping for nearly an entire minute until you felt it come to a stop and he was left an overwhelmed and overstimulated mess…completely spent and at your whim. He hadn’t been this vulnerable in a very long time and he couldn’t believe that this was future. Fucking this beautiful woman every night until the day he died. Exchanging kisses and breathy ‘I love you’ ‘s in a moment of passion, you’d fall into one another’s grasp and soon after, he’d fall off into slumber.

gently caressing him, you’d place a soft peck to his temple..happily thinking about the fact that he was yours forever now. And just to capture the occasion, you’d reach over for your phone, grabbing the device from the nightstand. Tilting it up, (y/n) let the camera take a couple stills of your half nude bodies. It was a night you’d cherish forever and true enough, the world wouldn’t know who was responsible for that happiness until you were full and well ready.

but a little teaser wouldn’t hurt.

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if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! please check out some of my other stuff in the masterlist. Likes are appreciated but reblogs would mean the world and help me out a TON! Also, considering leaving a little something in the tip jar if you’re feeling extra generous! 🫶🏾

g. satoru who is a massive pervert and constantly whines for you to let him touch you all the time, even when you're both around others. you've lost count of how many times he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, his warm hands slipping under your shirt while sitting next to g. suguru, who's attention is no longer on the tv.

'he doesn't mind,' satoru always comforts you, grinning into the skin of your neck. 'sugu's my best friend, he knows i can't help but touch you, baby.'

best friend or not, that doesn't explain how you always ended up with your legs spread open wide in satoru's lap, your jeans and panties discarded somewhere on the floor as suguru kisses all over your thighs. the two of them talk like you aren't even there, as if you aren't growing wetter as each second passes.

"satoru," suguru purrs, his fingers running up and down your soft lips, parting them open to watch slick slowly drip out of you. "you must be doing something else to her. i've never seen it get wet so quickly." the way he speaks so calmly makes you dizzy. it's unfair, so fucking unfair how calm and collected suguru is when he's inches away from your pussy, those pretty purple eyes focused on it.

"yeah? 's wet?" it's also unfair how riled up it gets satoru, seeing his pretty baby getting shy because his best friend is rubbing his fingers up and down her slick folds. "she's so messy, isn't she? she's the prettiest little pussy," he coos into your ear. that gets a chuckle from suguru, his eyes finally looking at you. "always the one to talk to the pussy and not about it, aren't you, satoru?"

his fingers finally focus on your clit, rubbing little circles into it. both you and satoru look pretty from this angle, suguru notices. the pure need and shyness on your face paired with that manic desperation on satoru's...it's a perfect picture, one he wants saved forever. maybe next time you'll let him take some pictures...after all, he needs a new background for his phone.

"c'mooon, sugu...give her a kiss? c'mon, c'mon, give that cunt a kiss, tell me how sticky 'n' wet she is," satoru fucking begs, acting as if he's the one spread open and dripping. but you second the thought, giving suguru the prettiest little puppy eyes.

"anything for you, princess," he coos softly, leaning down and pressing a little kiss on your clit. it's so light you barely feel it but then he's peppering kisses on it, your wetness starting to get on his lips and making each press of his lips sticker and wetter. "s-sugu-!" before you can even beg for more, his mouth is on you. his tongue is so wet and hot on your cunt, it feels like he was drooling for you.

"does she taste good? how wet is she, suguru, c'mon, tell me, tell me how that pussy tastes, pretty please?"

"mm, satoru, it's almost as if you wanted to be between her legs."

"who wouldn't? she's so pretty, she's squirmin' so cutely, my pretty baby, my needy little mochi, her pussy's always so creamy and warm and messy, god, i miss it right now."

"shit...stop talking like that, you're gettin' me flustered, should i-"

"s-sugu, please, keep going," you so politely ask. it's unbearable how cute you are, it's taking everything in him to keep being nice, to keep treating your cunt nicely. he knows satoru is mean and practically bullies your pretty slit almost every day, but he wants to be the nice one, the one who you go to when your 'toru' is being too mean. yet, you're making it so fucking hard when you look at him with lidded eyes that beg him to be rougher with you...

but he knows he's done for when satoru whispers something in your ear that has your eyes fluttering a bit and gets a pretty little gasp from you. those gorgeous eyes—oh, do you have little tears in them too?—connect with his and he's fucked.

"s-suguuu, please," you coo to him, moving your legs to hook over his shoulders and pull him closer to the apex of your thighs. "i need your mouth on my pussy r-really bad, please don't tease me." you take a pause and squeeze your eyes shut, whining a little as satoru coos for you to keep going. "g-give my...my messy cunt attention, suguru..."

suguru shakily sighs and the next thing you know, his mouth is smushed against your pussy, his tongue hungrily swirling against your clit as his hands grab onto the fat of your thighs. he doesn't know what gojo told you in order to hear you say that, but he's silently thanking him as he messily sucks and slurps at your juicy cunt.

it's so hot, all it takes is a few swipes of his tongue and you're gushing everywhere. suguru lowers his head to dip into your hole and he moans. he missed this, missed the sweet taste of your juices on his tongue as you squirmed and moaned for him, your boyfriend's best friend.

"fuck, i-i can hear how wet she is," comes satoru's pitiful whine, his hand dipping down to swipe at your clit as suguru focused on lapping up everything that dripped out of you. "lemme help, lemme help, wanna help you get her creamy, sugu." the feeling of suguru groaning into your puffy folds has you keening, arching your back against satoru's chest. oh, he's in heaven watching you both. "yeah, you didn't know she could cream, didya? put your fingers in her, sugu, put 'em in that sticky little pussy 'n' angle up."

reluctantly pulling his mouth off you with a wet sound, suguru slips two of his fingers in you. he doesn't miss the cry of his name, but he really doesn't miss the delirious giggle and moan when he angles his fingers up, rubbing against that spongy spot.

"f-fuck, she's dripping..."

"go on, fuck her with your fingers, you know you wanna see her make a mess. make her fucking cream, suguru, get her prepped. maybe t'day she'll let you put it in...oh, based on your face, she just clenched on your fingers, yeah?"

his fingers are still swirling around your clit, his other coming down to press on your abdomen. he can hear you getting wetter, your little whimpers turning to moans as you slur their names desperately. he wants you to lose all thoughts, only able to think about him and suguru...yeah, he wants you all soft and sweet so he and his best friend can try and slip into those warm, slick walls.

"mmn...she's really creaming...god, pretty girl, can you cum for me? i wanna see you cum on my fingers. satoru, move your fingers, the poor thing needs my mouth on her."

"hmmm, suddenly you know what she needs? ehehehe, you're learninggg, suguruuuu!" if you had turned to look at satoru, you'd see the charged look in his eye, blue eyes practically glowing with insanity. his hand grabs a fistful of suguru's hair and pulls his face directly into your cunt, unable to handle any more of this. he wanted to see you cum on suguru's face.

"c'mon, c'mon, kiss it, suguru, make it messy for the both of us. mmh, fuck, listen to you making out with her pussy, s' wet and sticky, isn't it? oohmygod, both of you sound so good, she's gonna cum, sugu, she's gonna cum in your mouth...fuck, i love you both so much, can't wait to see you both fucking each other."

summary — in which the neighbor becomes a bystander in an explicit window show by infamous artist geto suguru.

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻ female reader, female anatomy described, exhibitionism, oral (suguru receiving), masturbation (f.solo), drug usage/drug consumption (weed), voyeurism, artist!geto suguru, if you squint a lil bit–you may see hints of dom!suguru, takes place in the same verse of my rockstar!choso fic, minors do not interact

sticky note from deja — one of my babies that i hold close to my heart. a repost from my old blog—only the girlies who followed my blog 2 years ago remember this gem. completely ahead of its time.

The large window was something you had to get used to. You thought about putting curtains up, but you adored how the natural sunlight gleamed into your newest condo. Or the fact that you had a perfect view of the apartment across from you. You weren’t even aware that someone lived in the apartment until you were near the window and saw a male figure carrying art supplies. Your curious eyes squint to get a better look at the person, but you just couldn’t see that far.

As you ate dinner alone, you would find yourself peeping at the man across from you. He always seemed to be cooped up in his artwork. Rubbing his hands that were covered with paint onto his sweatpants or ripping a piece of paper out from his sketchbook. You found yourself wanting to get a closer look, intrigued to get a closer look at the mysterious man. So you brought a pair of binoculars. Cheeks burning in embarrassment as you realize you were a peeping Tom. How desperate could you be to invade a man’s privacy like this?

One evening when you were twisting and turning in your bed, you gave up trying to sleep. Your feet dragged across the wooden floors towards your kitchen to make your favorite tea that usually helped you fall asleep. As you walked by the huge window where the moon illuminated inside your place, your eyes nearly popped out of your head seeing the view. Your hands frantically picked up the binoculars as you looked directly towards the artist’s apartment. There he was sitting in one of his living room chairs, a rolled blunt in between his lips as another woman was in between his legs. Your heart pounded in your chest watching his fingers comb through his long jet black hair as the woman’s head bobbed up and down on his cock.

You kept mumbling to yourself that this felt so wrong. But your eyes couldn’t pry away from the sight. The way he inhaled and exhaled while a smoke cloud swirled above him as he held the rolled substance in his hand. His other hand was placed on the back of the woman’s head moving with her movements. He was enjoying the wonderful feeling of being on cloud nine due to the weed he was consuming and then being brought back down from his high due to a woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. You felt the growing heat in between your thighs as you put the binoculars down, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of what you just witnessed. You wanted to close your eyes and hopefully, when you opened, you were just hallucinating…dreaming maybe. High off the same thing, the artist was smoking. When you brought the binoculars back to your eyes, your heart seemed to drop in your chest. There he was, the artist giving you a sly wave. If you squint hard enough, you would even admit that he was giving you some cocky smirk.

He knew you were watching.

You watched through the binoculars as he gently nudged the woman off him. The woman’s face was covered with her own saliva as he gripped at her hair dragging her closer to the huge window just so you can get a better look. Your heart seemed to beat faster as you tugged one of your dining room chairs closer to the window, your thighs clamped shut to ignore the ache from your pussy that was begging for attention. As your eyes peeped through the binoculars once more, the woman continued to suck the artist off. His rolled blunt was in between his lips as he would toy with the woman’s brunette hair, eventually putting it in a ponytail to stop her saliva from colliding with her hair.

“Shit.” You muttered to yourself, the little things like that turned you on. You couldn’t help but play with the band of your pajama shorts. You were aware that if he knew you were watching, he could most likely see you.

You would put the binoculars down for a second as you tugged your shorts down. You stepped out of them letting them decorate your wooden floors as you sat back down in the chair you pulled up. Your eyes once again peeked through the binoculars once you picked them back up. The artist’s large hand was placed on the window keeping his balance from the sensational pleasure he was receiving.

Your eyes peered at the man as his head fell back in complete bliss. Seeing the way his hips thrust into the woman’s mouth caused your fingers to climb into your panties. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, shocked at the fact that just by being a peeping Tom, you’ve grown wet. Brain rotting with the thoughts of the artist in the other building as you massaged your own cunt, your other hand gripping at the binoculars to get a perfect view of the artist.

Your lips parted slightly to let out a soft whimper as your fingers made a circular motion on your clit that was begging to be touched. The sight of the artist getting a blowjob from another woman caused you to be soaked below if only you were the one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. The thought of it caused you to push two of your fingers inside to feel around your damp walls. Your fingers stroked eagerly to hit that one spot that caused your toes to curl up in pure bliss. Binoculars glued to your eyes as you watch the artist stare in your direction. A smirk on his face as he would quickly put the blunt he was smoking out. You watched as his muscles flex at each movement the brunette made on his dick. Your teeth grind against your lower lip as you remove your fingers from yourself. Your own wetness glistened your fingers that now were rubbing at your clit.

You watched as the artist’s hips thrust forward. The brunette on the floor grasped at the rug under her knees, trying to hold her balance due to the sudden aggression from the man in front of her. Saliva dripped on the floor and on the brunette’s lap as tears trickled down her cheeks. The actions you were viewing caused you to rub even faster; you could feel the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen. You watched as the artist’s head fell back as the brunette-haired woman used her hands to massage his shaft. Mimicking his motions as your head also fell back and once again insert your fingers to push around your wet walls. Your imagination lets you wonder and wish that the artist’s fingers were inside you, edging you on bit by bit. A moan hitched from the back of your throat as your vision was getting blurry. The last sight through the binoculars you caught a glimpse of before you were pushed into your orgasm was the artist removing himself from the woman’s mouth. A mixture of his cum and the brunette’s saliva dripped off the artist’s cock.

The binoculars clattered to the ground once you felt your walls clutch around your fingers. Your chest rose up and down as you seemed to slump in the wooden chair you were sitting in. Sitting in your own pool of wetness, you could see that the artists had also finished up. The girl who was blowing him off was walking out of the living room to clean herself up, her face a sloppy mess as she licked her lips of any cum that spilled out her mouth. You quickly grabbed the binoculars, your cheeks steamed with embarrassment as you couldn’t even believe the action you’d just done. You see him staring right back at you when you peek through them to end your night. He had a grin on his face as he gave you a wave right before he turned his living room light off, most likely to go join the woman he just face-fucked.

You placed the binoculars down and started to clean the mess you made. Your mind is still racing due to the actions you just committed. It was such a new thing, and your friends wouldn’t even believe you if you told them what you did. You pushed the chair back into the dining space of your condo and eventually went to shower. Praying that the shower's steam would push out the thoughts of the artist living rent-free in your mind.

The following morning, you seemed to have dozed off on your living room couch last night. A fluffy blanket tugged on your body, and your television was on. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you seemed to begin remembering the following night's events. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you jolted up, going towards the window. You couldn’t see the artist walking around his apartment, nor did you see the brunette woman that was wrapped around his cock. But you did see something. You grabbed your binoculars, peeping through them for one last time, and your lips parted to let out a scandalous gasp.

There stood in the living room, close to the large window that the artist once was using as support last night, a painting. A painting so explicit that it caused you to place your hand on your chest in disbelief. The painting was a painting of you last night. On the canvas was an explicit painting of you masturbating at the view of him. You couldn’t help but notice the details he put into his work, especially considering that you live in an apartment building across from his. He had to have such a vivid imagination to create such a piece.

And in the corner, you saw his signature in black paint.

Geto Suguru.

The artist’s name was Geto Suguru.

omi and naoyuki (3) communicate thru their ✨ | sakuatsu son