#♪ under the cut

[riftdancing]

Feel your heart beat, bang the drum Open up your eyes and fill your lungs The same word from where the stars are flung Love is a language Love is your native tongue

[sysig]

For Requestober, Req.1

Scri dressed as an angel, Edgar dressed as a demon. It would be fun to see the roles swaped regarding costumes!

Day 3 - Angel and Devil('s Advocate)

[ashipiko]

🫶 herro to my v small percent of a3! followers nowadays and my even smaller percent of fellow skypaul enjoyers. i got back into my btab sky pirates skypaul au

there is a whole 7k google doc about this AU. the beauty and the beast soundtrack changed me 😔

EXTRA PAUL REFERENCE BELOW <3

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[wrestlezon]

♫ now I'm running, off the feeling, that I get when you and me dance ♫

[poohwhin]

i wish somebody would want me as aggressively as shidou wants sae

[sunasilhouette]

「your intentions」 - s.rintarou x f!reader

✧summary:

what happens when a notorious manwhore, stoner, and player, encounters someone who doesn't seem all too interested. or: you piss suna off so much that he wants you

✧wc: 5.2k

✧au: college!au, freshman!suna, freshman!reader, miya twins side characters

✧ tags + warnings under the cut | ao3 link (sentence case) |

♪♬ intentions - starfall

✧warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, bratty!reader, experienced!reader, sadist!suna, dom!suna, fuckboy!suna, stoner!suna, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, fwb, suna is an asshole with standards,

✧tags: fingering (f.), oral (m.f.), teasing, degradation, pet name (kitten/ princess), unprotected sex, rough, edging, mirror sex, dubcon, creampie, face-fucking, cum swallowing

-

frat parties themselves were frustrating—loud, crowded, sweaty. but on the bright side, they always accompanied themselves with free booze and weed. a lot of the guys here played for various sports teams on campus, most of them on the volleyball team.

one in particular, suna rintarou. the guy you so happened to sit next to in the blunt rotation and the very guy your friend warned you about yet also praised. rumour has it suna rintarou only calls up girls when he's high but he was an insane fuck. you didn't take much notice until it was your turn in the rotation. with a tap on your shoulder, you turned to the tall, foxy-featured volleyball player.

“hey. you want some or not?" rintarou suna said lazily, expression blank. his sharp, foxy features complement the entire vibe he was exuding. plus, you were surprised that you could smell a sexy, earthy cologne on him and not just the weed.

you turned around, meeting his eyes with a similar blank expression, not really vibing with his tone. you might have had a resting bitch face... but, you didn’t say anything as you took the offered blunt, taking a big puff and blowing it at his face, saying, “thanks," clipped with a fake smile and then turned back to your friend, dismissing the surprise on her face.

what you didn't notice was how suna raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by your boldness yet intrigued. as you blew smoke in his face, he had taken a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes never leaving yours. even when you turned away, he kept his gaze drifting lazily over your body in a way that was both assessing and appreciative.

leaning back casually against the couch, he pulled out his phone but continued to sneak glances at her from the corner of his eye. a slow, sly smile spread across his lips.

meanwhile, your friend yui was erratically sputtering about your passive-aggressive interaction with the known ‘manwhore’. honestly, you didn’t get the big deal and continued sipping at your drink and making conversation with the other sports guys, purposely ignoring suna.

sure, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive but he was surprisingly not the kind of guy you usually go for. suna’s and your mutual friend osamu was more up your alley since you shared an elective with him and he seemed way more of a green flag than a notorious womaniser.

yui was in the middle of not-so-quietly warning you about him, no doubt painting him as some kind of villain suna thought. with that, you felt as though a certain someone was staring a hole into the back of your head causing you to shift your gaze briefly—mr hotshot himself already looking with that same lazy, blank yet sharp expression of his. he quirked the side of his lip. you rolled your eyes at him, something suna definitely wanted to see again.

you were alerted to a ringing and a name that pissed you off reading. “shit… sorry, I gotta take this call.” you told yui, putting your drink down and leaving the group, trying to find your way through the crowded living room and up the stairs into a hopefully unoccupied room.

.

.

.

you waltzed upstairs and managed to find an empty room where people weren't fucking in to take the phone call. it wasn't a very fun one.

"christ, anzai, I told you not to call me again. do I really have to block you?" the conversation was pointless and getting on your nerves. you sat down on the bed, rubbing your temples out of frustration. sighing and about to cuss out your ex-fwb over the phone, the door opened, letting a bit of light into the dark room.

suna rintarou. your eyes grew at the coincidence but you needed to end the phone call. suna was just quiet, watching you with that blank expression and stare of his.

"you're blocked. don't call me."

the invader leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with keen interest as you hung up. you sighed as you rubbed your temples which probably struck a chord in him—you're sure he knew this feeling all too well. the room fell silent except for the muffled noise and shit music from downstairs. wordlessly, he pushed off the doorframe and moved further into the room, closing the door softly behind him. suna came to sit beside you on the bed, close but not quite touching. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a joint and lighter.

"trouble in paradise?" he asked quietly, sparking the lighter. his tone was devoid of its usual sarcasm, surprisingly gentle. he took a long hit before offering it to you, exhaling smoke slowly through barely parted lips. his eyes, usually sharp and mocking, had softened as he regarded you in the shadows. for now, the game was on hold - it seemed he was simply offering a moment of quiet understanding.

this was the infamous manwhore on campus people were dying to get in bed with? you glanced at the joint that he offered. you didn’t take it, saying, "can't a girl get a little bit of privacy? I prefer escaping the party alone, actually."

"this is my room, actually," he replied calmly, taking another drag from the joint.

“shit- sorry.” you started, about to stand up and leave but he didn’t seem bothered or react as if he was so... you slowly sat back down.

suna exhaled slowly and shrugged. "don't worry, I'm not going to try anything. just thought you could use someone to vent to, if you want." his tone was casual, non-threatening. holding the joint out to you again, he added, "or... we could just get high and forget about our problems for a while."

his expression gave nothing away as usual, but his eyes were open and attentive, implicitly letting you know he was genuinely offering an ear. the ball was in your court now - you could take the outstretched joint as a peace offering and relax in comfortable silence, or tell him to fuck off.

“well, guess I'll take you up on that,” you said in reply, the faintest hint of a smile on your glossy lips.

a ghost of a smirk tugged at suna's lips as you accepted said peace offering, brushing against his fingers slightly (intentionally or not), clearly pleased with himself. he leaned back on one arm, mirroring you, close but not quite touching and watched the end of the joint glow orange as you took a hit.

"so, what's with the aggressive call?" he asked casually, your brief contact sent a subtle spark through him, though his expression remained as bored as ever. "ex giving you trouble?"

he took another long drag, holding the smoke for a moment before releasing it. his hooded gaze remained fixed on you, waiting patiently. there was a comfortable silence as the weed started to take effect, blurring the edges of discomfort.

during the brief silence, you took him in, only now realising how long his legs were and how huge he actually was without that oversized jacket- arms, hands, fingers; everything.

averting your eyes, you instead noticed a few things about his bedroom. one - a massive wall-to-ceiling mirror on his built-in wardrobe and a volleyball as well as some trophies on display on the shelves. some of his clothes were thrown about, as you would expect in a first-year guy's room. not to mention his impressive PC set-up.

suna had followed your gaze around the room, catching the subtle once-overs of his physique and belongings.

you finally indulged him by replying to his question, “not that big of a deal. just an asshole that begged to tap again despite being a one-minute wonder," you smirked through the confession - subtlety not being one of your strongest suits.

"really? wouldn't know what that's like." you could practically hear the smirk in his voice too, confidence oozing through.

you rolled your eyes at his comment, "though, seems like you're the same in that you don't know how to take the hint. heard all about you." you continued before you could really think over what you had just implied.

he hid a smirk by taking another drag.

"hmm, really?" he replied lazily, "and what exactly have you heard?"

of course, suna knew the rumours that circulated about him - manwhore, player, only calls girls when he's high and or drunk. but he was curious what impression you in particular had gotten. his hooded gaze watched your expression closely.

the joint was starting to take effect now, softening the edges of his usual sharp demeanour. a pleasant buzz hummed through your veins.

letting out a soft chuckle, closing your eyes and replying with shrug, "you only call girls when you're high or drunk. and… you're an 'insane fuck'. a friend's words - not mine."

as you spoke, suna reached his arm past you, leaning over your thighs to stub out his joint on an ashtray atop the bedside table. your eyes grew wide at the sudden proximity.

"hmm, your friend isn't entirely wrong," suna hummed, his breath ghosting over your ear. he took his sweet time stubbing out the joint, not missing and clearly enjoying the subtle tension of your body.

when he sat back, he turned his head to meet your eyes, mere inches away. his gaze, usually sharp and mocking, had softened into something molten under the haze.

"but, what do you think?" he asked quietly, a hint of challenge in his tone. one of his long fingers came up to brush a lock of hair from your cheek, lingering there for a moment as his eyes dropped to your lips. the game was still afoot, but the rules had changed - this was no longer just casual banter.

this was an invitation.

and, your own gaze failed you too. for a split second, your eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to his greyish-yellow eyes. you decide not to swat his hand away.

“well, shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and so on...” you whispered low and sultry, “as for ‘insane fuck’… let’s just say I don’t have the experience to give my own opinion.”

"wise words," his thumb tracing soft circles on her cheek. your admission both surprised and intrigued him. he liked the way you talked.

leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, he brushed his lips against the shell of your ear once more. "what do you say we change that?" he breathed, letting the question hang tantalizingly in the air.

his free hand came up to tangle gently in your hair, tilting you enough to expose the long, column of your neck. suna pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling that pulse quicken under his lips and forced a breathy sigh out of you, the pressure feeling so good.

"or d'you wanna continue our little game of cat and mouse?" he whispered, hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin. his eyes, when they meet yours again, gleam with promise and challenge.

"that depends,” you whispered out, “who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?” contrary to conflicting words, your own hands moved to slide up his shirt—to the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his brown locks. hands on his bare skin sent sparks through his veins, sharpening his focus.

"good question," suna murmured just above your lips, eyes half-lidded with intent.

in one smooth motion, he pushed you down, caging you against the plush mattress. his knee parted your thighs, making that tight mini skirt ride up just enough, pressing against your core, eliciting a gasp.

"for now, I think it's safe to say the mouse has been caught. but, I have a feeling you're more kitten than mouse," he gazed down at you with hooded eyes, taking in your flushed cheeks and sweet curves. "so you gonna let me kiss you, or...?

that shit-eating grin on his face made the idea of denying him so much more tempting. alas, suna rintarou was stupidly good with his words. but, so were you.

"I'll let you do more if you hurry up."

you could hear suna curse under his breath right before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he rolled his hips against yours, grinding his hard length through the thin layers of fabric. a low groan rumbled in his throat at the exquisite friction.

breaking the kiss, he trailed his mouth down your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking marks into the tender skin. “so you’re the impatient type, huh?” he teased, hands making quick work of that skirt. "alright, I’ll give you what you want.”

not a second later and you’re stripped bare. he’s settled between your thighs. no more teasing—he delved right in, lapping eagerly at those dripping folds. his reputation precedes him, ministrations focused and skilled, clearly well-practised in the art of reducing his flings to a quivering mess.

you didn’t know what to expect but suna going full-throttle was definitely not on the list. either suna really was a god with his hands and tongue or the weed in your system was making you feel pleasure tenfold. you hoped it was just the latter.

you couldn’t even stop to think about trying to avoid the mounting orgasm. suna didn’t help with the way his tongue perfectly circled your clit. or how his fingers curled and prodded that sweet spot in your tight, soaking wet cunt.

it wasn’t your fault how your thighs quivered and threatened to close around him—but suna kept you spread, happily lapping up the slick and wetness from your cum.

you cursed and could feel his fucking grin, taking his time kissing and nipping down your inner thighs. only when you stilled did he crawl back up your body, grabbing at the flesh of your curves.

his lips and chin glistened with your essence, kissing you once more and letting you get a taste of yourself on his hot tongue.

suna nipped at your swollen lips, erection straining painfully against his jeans. “your turn,” he said, taking your hand and guiding it to the tent in his pants.

your brows frowned and smirked somewhat irritably. that nonchalant, confident arrogance of his really did a good job at pissing you off (and turning you on). two could play at that game.

recovered from that mind-blowing orgasm, you pushed against his chest, making him sit up and lean on one arm. “you really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

you claimed his lips once more, undoing the belt and unzipping his pants with practised ease as he helped by kicking them off.

his grunt out of surprise was delightful to hear as you gripped him by the base, cock twitching eagerly in your grasp.

“guilty as charged,” he breathed when you parted, watching with that lazy grin and hooded eyes. “but you seem to be holding your own just fine,” he reached down to stroke your cheek. suna’s expression softening from his usual mocking edge into something almost tender. almost.

now that you were quite literally face-to-face with his cock, you couldn’t think anything else other than, ‘fuck, he’s big’. stupid volleyball players and their stupid big hands, big build and big dick apparently.

“you’re not the only one who’s been around,” you confessed, teasing the tip, flicking salty pre all around, all while looking at him doe-eyed through your lashes.

suna sucked in a sharp breath, hips twitching slightly from the teasing touches. “mm, I’m learning that,” he replied, voice roughening with barely restrained desire. what he would give to shove his cock down that diabolical mouth of yours. the mental image of your full, pouty lips stretched wide around him might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own.

his fingers tangle into your hair, not pushing but definitely encouraging, giving it a light tug. you took that as the go signal, licking up a stripe from the base of his cock. your spare hand, already coated with the juices from your cunt came up to pump once and then twice.

and, just as you finished licking up that stripe, you closed your mouth around the tip, bobbing your head and experimentally hollowing out your cheeks.

the throaty groan suna let out was more than satisfactory, head falling back as you sucked harder. “fuck, just like that…” he growled encouragingly, hips wanting to jerk up into that perfect mouth but he held back, letting you set the pace.

furrowing your brows at him, you swallowed him deeper until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, moaning, sending waves through his cock. he was in so deep. you could feel it twitch inside your throat and taste what was uniquely suna rintarou.

"f-fuck," he stammered, hips bucking up helplessly at the sensation of your throat fluttering around the head of his cock. oh, you were taking him so well, like you were made for swallowing his length. "so fucking good," he praised roughly, stroking your cheek. his release was coiling hot and tight already.

just before sending him over the edge, what could a little more teasing do? with a lick of your lips, you gazed up at him from below and with a smirk saying, “you holdin’ back or somethin’? I’m not a stranger to being face fucked," and licked another swipe down his cock.

suna scoffed. his eyes flashed dangerously.

in a flash he flipped you backwards, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his cock jutted heavy and eager between you, glistening with his pre and your saliva.

"you asked for it, kitten," he warned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. without further preamble, he plunged back into your mouth, setting a punishing pace as he fucked that perfect throat.

suna's hips snapped forward relentlessly as he took what he wanted. one hand tangled roughly in your hair to hold you in place for his merciless punishment.

"such a naughty little slut, begging to be face fucked," he growled, feeling his release coiling tighter with each slick thrust. "swallow it all when I come, got that?"

his groans and grunts were honestly music to your ears. a few more hard thrusts and he was spilling down your throat with a guttural groan, pounding into your mouth through the entirety of his climax.

you weren't immune to having tears well up in your eyes as white hot cum spurted down your throat, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling and to not choke around him.

when suna ‘generously’ (not) pulled out of your mouth, you puffed your cheeks and swallowed hard, turning to cough. you faced suna after, licking your lips and swallowing all while looking at him dead in the eye almost defiantly, “people usually stop fucking moving when they blow,” you complained, voice slightly hoarse but that just made suna even more prideful.

he just chuckled at your complaint—that same evil laugh accompanying that shit-eating smirk. "dunno who you're tryna convince since..." he shifted, fingers tracing your hips and tapped your sopping wet cunt, wetness practically dripping down your thighs. "you're ruining my sheets."

you detested that suna rintarou face-fucking you made you wet to the point where you dripped all over his bed. it was now clear to him exactly how he should continue treating you.

rolling smoothly atop you, he caged you in with strong arms and settled between welcoming thighs. "I’ll clean that up for you," he purred, dipping his head to sample the sweet flavour lingering on his tongue.

suna let his fingers do most of the work stretching you out, making you mewl, moan, and arch your back. “s'that what you say to all the girls you fuck?”

suna chuckled darkly against her slick flesh, tongue delving deeper in response. "not always," he replied, lips and chin glistening when he pulled back to meet your eyes. two fingers scissored inside you, curling to stroke that sweet spot, while his thumb circled your aching clit in lazy eights.

"now quit your yapping and enjoy the ride." he resumed his oral devotion with renewed vigour, determined to reduce you to a quivering mess once more before claiming you fully. only when you were sobbing his name and gripping the sheets in abandon would he deem you ready for his cock.

fuck— his fingers really were magic. you were questioning why he was so adamant on stretching you out. though, after taking his cock in your mouth, you were actually wondering how it’d fucking fit inside. you were so, so close to coming for the second time that night. but, you oh-so badly wanted to cum on his cock. you’d rather die than admit it though, stubbornly biting your lip, muffling cries so as to not give him satisfaction.

suna hummed, smirking around the mouthful of flesh his lips and tongue were lavishing. he could feel your inner walls fluttering, body coiled as tight as a bowstring on the edge of release.

pulling back with an obscene pop, he withdrew his fingers to your disappointed mewl. "tsk, so impatient," he chided, nipping at your inner thighs. "don't you want the real thing?" he purred, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your slick folds in slow, teasing circles. he was fully hard again, ready to plunge deep.

"beg for it like a good girl and I'll consider it," he challenged, grey-golden eyes glittering with mischief. his thumb returned to rub tight, fast circles around your clit, keeping you right on the razor's edge.

your brows furrowed, eyes closing tight in hopes to stop yourself from coming. you swallowed hard and managed a smirk despite your hazed eyes, closing your legs around his torso, pulling him in, playfully nipping at his bottom lip. "not until you ask me for my name, asshole."

suna growled low in his throat. little minx was going to be the death of him. his cockhead nudged insistently at your entrance, aching to breach that tight heat.

his voice was low and smooth, lacking its usual teasing edge. for once, his full attention was focused solely on you, "alright then, kitten. what's your name?" you waited on his question, and then you'd give your answer, along with the fucking of a lifetime.

whispering your name into his ear, you continued, "but, you can call me your slut if you let me cum on your cock this time. and, if you’re good I might even let you have my number."

the way your voice stayed low and sultry almost lulled him into some sort of spell. it didn't help suna's patience when your legs tightened around his waist, making his cock kiss the entrance of your cunt.

suna's eyes darkened at the sinful proposition, cock twitching eagerly. oh, he was going to make you beg for release before the night was through.

he purred your name, tasting it on his tongue as he rolled his hips, "such a pretty name for a dirty slut." he chuckled, nipping your lobe.

in one swift thrust, he finally sank home, burying to the hilt in one smooth stroke. your velvety heat clenched so tight around him. it was exquisite torture. the moan you both shared together was downright diabolical and the proceeding muffled cries that you let out in your mess of a kiss felt delicious on suna’s tongue.

bracing himself on muscular arms, he set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward to grind against your clit on every pass. "you'll probably be begging for mine once I'm done," he mumbled against your lips, grey eyes alight with primal hunger.

with the way your pussy clenched down on him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders and the way you moaned his name: how could he not feel like he was running on pure ecstasy.

suna gripped your hips and flipped you over, leaning over your arched body. he nipped the shell of your ear with a smirk. his free hand gripped your chin, pulling your head up, making you look up at that full-length mirror on his wardrobe, "remind me how you want it, again?"

you wanted to curse him out so bad with how badly your walls fluttered achingly around nothing. biting your lips, you let out a shaky sigh as your cheeks flushed an even deeper red. finding the strength to lift a hand to turn his head and whisper devilishly into his ear, "rough."

with a breathy chuckle, he replied, "sure thing, princess." without further warning, he gripped your hips once more and slammed back in. you cried out, whether in pain or pleasure or a sick mixture of both, you neither knew nor cared. all that mattered was the feeling of suna wrecking your insides.

suna's hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the debaucherous reflection in the mirror. the muted sounds of the frat party downstairs faded, replaced with the noises of sex and slapping skin.

your skin flushed pink and red from the marks he left on your body. looking up for a brief second, you met his blown-out pupils in the mirror, managing to get out, "a little fucked in the head, aren’t you-"

suna's lips curled into a feral smirk at your words, meeting your gaze unflinchingly in the mirror. "takes one to know one, princess," he growled, angling his hips to drive even deeper. his thrusts were relentless, pounding into you so hard the force shifted you forward.

leaning over you and reaching around, he splayed his large hand over your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock. "feel that?"

of course you fucking felt it—he was practically splitting you open. and you'd hate to admit it but you felt high and it was definitely not the weed.

he caught your mouth in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. his eyes bored into yours in the mirror, a feral challenge gleaming in their depths.

you couldn’t stay up. you lowered your head, body high on firey pleasure as suna pounded a second orgasm into you. you cursed and sputtered out, "f-fuck...! I'm gonna..."

his own face twisted in ecstasy. fuck, he needed to fill you up. your cries raised an octave and walls began to spasm around him, making him groan deeply into the crook of your neck. as much of an asshole he was, he found a slither of control inside him to care enough to ask.

he cursed, his control hanging by a thread, "you on anything?"

his cock pistoned in and out of your walls, hitting that spongy sweet spot every single time. the slap of skin filled the room along with your mingled moans. suna's orgasm was coiling tight, ready to explode.

somehow summoning the last shreds of willpower, he panted against your skin, "hurry, tell me before I lose it…" the decision was yours, but he wasn't sure he could stop even if you said to. not when you felt this fucking good.

part of him wanted nothing more than to spill deep inside, and claim you as only his. a few more erratic thrusts were all he could manage, hanging on the razor's edge for your reply before the dam broke.

“f-fuck... just— fill me up…!” you couldn’t even think straight as you peaked. your back arched like a pretty moon with a death grip on the sheets, trying to at least hold on to a bit of your sanity.

a guttural groan tore from suna's throat at your permission, the last of his restraint shattering. he slammed home one final time, spilling hot white cum deep inside your clenching walls with a full-body shudder.

wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him as he pulsed into you, your climax dragging his out for an agonizing eternity. your velvety heat milked him for all he was worth, and he swore he saw stars behind his lids.

coming back to himself, he collapsed heavily over you, panting for breath. suna buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as you both floated down together.

"fuck…" was all he could manage in a gravelly rasp, still nestled inside.

the previously faded noise of the party had now become slightly audible and matched with the beating of your heartbeats and panting breaths. holy fuck. suna rintarou really was an insane fuck.

pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from your abused cunt with a satisfied smirk. rollling onto his side, he tugged your limp, well-fucked body towards him, tucking you under his arm.

was he still high? cus the way he was looking at you was kinda dangerous… you didn’t say anything else and pressed your lips against his again, wanting to forget about everything else and enjoy the ‘insane fuck’ that was suna rintarou.

suna readily returned your kiss, losing himself in the feel of your pretty soft lips. for once, his mind had gone blissfully blank - all he knew was the girl in his arms and the taste of you on his tongue.

reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to yours, noses brushing almost intimately as you both caught your breaths. his fingers traced idle patterns along your flushed skin, committing every curve and plane to memory.

his eyes cracked open to meet your gaze, and for a heartbeat, something almost tender flickered in his usual sardonic depths. "stay the night?" he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. fingers tracing the bow of your lips, he awaited your answer.

“what, can’t get enough of the girl that accidentally walked into your room?” you teased, biting the finger that traced your lips.

suna huffed out a soft laugh at your retort. he replied, "can you blame me? think I hit the jackpot with you." his fingers combed idly through your tousled locks, gaze roaming your well-fucked form with unabashed hunger and appreciation.

"besides," he purred, nosing along your jawline to nip at the spot below your ear that made you gasp, "you still need to answer my question."

his voice had dropped to a low, gravelly rasp that went straight to your core. he smirked against your flushed skin. "do I live up to my reputation as an 'insane fuck'?"

yes, you answered mentally—but you weren't about to feed his ego even more.

trailing his fingers down your spine, he purred, "and I believe someone promised me her number? for being 'good' and filling her up.”

despite the way you shivered at his touch once more, you huffed and pushed against his chest. “your volleyball friends not gonna miss you?” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"probably too busy getting shitfaced to notice I'm gone," he replied with a lazy shrug. "I'd much rather stay right here and wreck you a few more times before calling it a night." his hand slid down your stomach to tease that oversensitive clit, smirking at your involuntary gasp.

“you’re impossible.”

.

.

.

unfortunately for you, you did surrender your number to suna in the end. and, you even stayed the night, surprising a few of suna’s house mates from the sight of the smoking hot girl he managed to somehow get into his bed. you paid them no mind as you left his place. well- apart from giving your classmate, osamu miya, an awkward greeting before leaving.

it wasn’t long before you and suna would meet again, and again, and again…

[smooshednetwork]

Celeste!!!

Pose/image reference under the cut ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

[the-thing-withfeathers]

for the better

a/n: this is part 2 to know your worth. i’m sorry this took a bit of time but i just wanted to get some requests done before fully getting into this buttt i hope y’all like it.

read part 1!

this one is for @dandelions4us specifically 🫵🏼🫵🏼

pairing: billie eilish x reader

warning: bold-italics are flashbacks. ex-toxic relationship, mention of therapy, toxic coping mechanisms, trauma.

summary: billie tumbles while you thrive. can you manage to find each other again through this all?

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock.

the dreadful noise of the second hand going on a full rotation was filling billie’s ears. she was overwhelmed and she didn’t want to be here.

“you mentioned last time that you had a partner…” the woman sat on a leather chair started. she was older and was graying, she wore glasses that were too small for her face. “a partner that you had let down.”

“yeah… i really fucked up there.” billie chuckled dryly. “i was horrible during the end of that relationship. it was amazing at first but after touring, i… i became horrible.”

“why do you think you became horrible?” the woman asked.

billie didn’t want to start therapy but her brother had convinced her to do it. she hated talking things out with a total stranger. but she knew she had to take a step towards getting better one way or another.

“i… i don’t know.” billie sighed in defeat.

“do you think it had something to do with your job?” the woman asked again. this was getting ridiculous. billie felt like the woman knew all the answers but was just trying to get billie to say them, she felt like she was back in school.

“maybe?” billie asked herself. “i think when i got back from touring, i realised how serious things were getting— not just with my relationship but with everything around me. i think i just wanted to be less serious? but i didn’t go about it very well. i royally fucked up. i should have been honest— i think things would have gone so much better.”

“it seems like you have a pretty good idea about what you need to work on.” the woman pointed out, impressed. “it was a lot better than our past sessions where you were lost. it seems like you’re starting to get a better grip on yourself.” she nodded in approval.

“i dunno, i think the break i took from working has been really good to me.” billie smiled a bit, she had decided to stop making music for the time being. it wasn’t forever but it was just to give her time to recover.

“do you want to get back together?” the therapist asked, tilting her head.

“yes. more than anything.” billie nodded. “i miss the love that i used to come home to everyday.”

“you could always call.” the therapist suggested.

“i don’t think i’d get an answer.” she huffed.

“you never know if you don’t try.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

that’s how billie ended up at a cafe with her leg shaking under the table, waiting for you.

she hasn’t seen you in months. she heard about you from her friends, she tried not to ask but sometimes it would slip out. your friends reluctantly answered out of pity.

you walked into the cafe. her jaw nearly dropped at the sight of you. a smile tugged at her lips. you had cut your hair and your fashion sense had changed, you cleaned up well.

your eyes scanned the room for billie, a small smile forming when you saw her. she looked almost the same, except she dyed her hair.

you were hesitant to come today, but you had done enough self-growth that you were confident enough to face her again.

you made a beeline for her table, sitting down across from her.

billie thought she knew what to say but she was mesmerised by you. you looked good and healthy, and even more beautiful than she anticipated. she wasn’t prepared to have her breath taken away by you.

“hey.” you said, settling down and flashing a smile at her.

“hi.” she responded, clearing her throat.

“um… hey.” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows. “it’s good to see you.”

“yeah, you look good.” she said as the waiter brought her order over. you ordered something for yourself as well while she was there.

the way your eyes twinkled when talking to someone else, that was never there before. you were always more introverted but suddenly it was like you had all the confidence in the world.

she fell in love with you all over again.

you turned back to look at her after ordering, crossing your legs one over the other. you smiled at the look on her face.

“you look surprised.” you pointed out.

“i mean… a little? you’ve changed… in a good way.” she said, sipping at her coffee. “you seem… um… more—“

“out there?” you completed her thought. “well, yes. i kind of put myself to the test. i finally used my savings to travel over the past few months. i kind of had to fend for myself— that involved putting myself out there.” you explained what you had been up to. “all those work hours finally did me good.”

“that’s… that’s really nice.” she said, staring at her coffee on the table. “where did you go?”

“german, greece, rome—“

“rome? you’ve always wanted to go.”

“mmhm. and i finally did. and i finished up my trip in london. i saw some of our friends that we made when i visited you on tour.” you said, scooting over to make room for the waitress putting your order down.

“that’s good, i know they would have been glad to see you.”

you let silence fall over the table for a second as you took a bite of the biscuit at the side of your plate.

“why’d you call?” you asked, cutting to the chase. you thought that there was no point in the small talk when there was clearly something looming over billie.

“oh!” she didn’t expect you to ask so quickly.

“sorry, it just seems like there’s something you’re wanting to say.”

“yeah… i’m uh, i’m in therapy.” she said, leaning back in her seat. “and i just… we’ve been working on how i can explain myself to you. i feel like you deserve that.”

“i would be lying if i said i wasn’t curious, billie. about our relationship ending…” you said, sighing. “feels like i never got closure.”

“that’s fair! and i guess that’s what i wanted to give you.” she said. “i don’t know why i did what i did exactly, because i could have handled it so much better.”

you nodded in anticipation.

“i felt old.” billie sighed out.

you almost let out a laugh but instead let out a stifled chuckle.

“old?”

“old… yeah, it sounds so silly.”

“billie, you’re not even 25.” you scoffed a little bit in disbelief.

“i know! which is why it’s silly.” she said, a little bit defeated. “it was all too much for me when tour ended. i realised how much i had missed with everyone back home. everyone was going to parties and i was stuck working in the studio all the time. i think our relationship took the brunt of it, it was all getting so serious so i took it out on you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “serious?”

“yeah… i used to think our relationship getting more serious and committed meant i had to settle down and grow up. i wasn’t ready for that. but i realised i was wrong. our relationship was my safe place to land, coming home to you was the best part of my day.”

“i didn’t realise you felt that way. i wish you told me.” you huffed a little, crossing your arms. “i would have helped you… whatever it took.”

“i know, and that’s why i regret it so much.”

“i kept replaying that fight in my head when it was all so fresh… i just felt like i was fighting with a stranger.” you felt your heart ache upon reliving those memories. “i had some hope that maybe you’d come to your senses that day, that maybe me saying something would be enough for you.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t. i was so stupid—“

“the worst part is that i never fell out of love with you for a second.” you confessed.

“what?” she asked, making sure she heard you right.

“i tried. i tried to hate you… believe me, i did. but i couldn’t.” you shook your head, finishing your coffee off.

“could we ever try again?” billie popped the question. she didn’t know what answer to expect from you. sure, you still loved her, but could you put yourself in that position again?

“i don’t know.” you said, truthfully. “it’s taking everything in me not to say yes, but i don’t know if i can do that to myself again. i think i’ve come too far.”

“then let me catch up to you.”

there she was. your billie.

you couldn’t hold back a laugh when you heard her say that.

“oh, billie. it’s good to have you back. it’s for the better.” you sighed through the smile that was plastered on your face. “well, how about this then?”

you took her phone that was sitting down on the table. she had reached out through a mutual friend but you didn’t have any other contact information.

“i’ll give you my number.”

thump. thump. thump

billie could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

“i’ll give you my number.” you said. billie had just met you that night but she was captivated by you.

you had gotten a job working tech at her release party. she saw you backstage and couldn’t take her eyes off you for a second. the way you tried to make sure that everything was perfect for her.

you were a face in the background and yet you were at the forefront of her mind the entire night.

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.”

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.” you giggled, teasing her a little bit. you found it amusing that one of the biggest figures in the world was chasing after you after the show.

she was panting a little bit, she definitely ran after you. her hands were on her knees for just a second while she introduced herself, trying to catch her breath.

you were on your way to your car, your bag already on your shoulder. she couldn’t let you leave without shooting her shot.

you handed her phone back to her.

you handed her phone back to her. she took it back in her hand and immediately pressed dial, you were still in front of her.

she pressed dial.

you rolled your eyes and picked up the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?” she said with a cheeky smile on her face.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

a/n: heyyy y’all i hope the switching between flashbacks & current time wasn’t too confusing. but i hope u enjoyed part 2 <33 much love mwah mwah

[riftdancing]

When you're in motion I don't notice myself moving in To close the distance in an instant just to touch your skin.

[sysig]

A lot of early concept stuff was expression/pose brainstorming - there’s the classic six Webkinz emotions (which, I learned have been largely pared down to just four after a point! Since they got rid of Dr. Quack’s role, there’s no more “sick” expression and most ‘Kinz’ tired and sad expressions are the same! >:0 What’s the point of having an easily editable puppet with the spaghetti code intact that you have to put an image there AnyWay and not make a slightly different expression!! H’f) as well as the main Sakura poses - so if I’m already making up expressions, why no go a little further! :D

One of the expressions I definitely needed up top was Mischievous - working with a cat, that’s the only logical conclusion really. I think it’s funny that she swerves the compliment only to pay it right back as well lol

The ticklish expression is one I’m still going back and forth on! I’m half tempted to have it be somewhere between happy and angry - maybe a mood gradient, starting out just positive and slowly moving into “Hey stop! >:0″ if it’s too many times in a row? It’s a thought haha

Similarly so, messing with her ears - bothering your pets is a very important element of socialization (lol)

As seen above, I’d reallyyy like to figure a way to have a dual-visual mood system - both the ‘Kinz body language/expression/emotion and a more exact stat bar. I’m still chewing on this idea a bit, no pun intended lol. That and click-and-drag with an actual image you can drag around your screen, hm and hm! Much to think about. Her face here turned out cute and funny haha, helped me push the expression more comedic

Much better :) Webkinz already has some well-known food dialogue, my favourite is probably “Mmm to the mmmax!” haha

Each low-mood would have their own emotion tied to it, but what about somewhere in the middle? I like the idea of the ‘Kinz getting bored if they’re left alone for too long! And little paw taps, showing off her embroidered paw pad haha ♪

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪Wheel of Fortune - Kay Starr

Aahhhh. I love weddings. Don’t you? I think it’s a wonderful expression of one’s love for another, and it’s always nice to see celebrated! Crashing weddings can be fun to watch too, thankfully. Thanks, Sierra! (And sorry you lost your husband!)

Notes on the episode under the cut!

* Cody’s silently praying to whatever God may be out there that Noah’s the one that comes back.

* Chris announces Noah’s return as he rises from the stage on a three-tier platform. Sierra’s “WHAT” is drowned out by Cody’s “YES!!!”.

* (Noah's song is an entirely new arrangement that spoofs Kay Starr’s “Wheel Of Fortune”. It would entail Noah leading [obviously], singing about how awful it is that Lady Luck brought him back to compete on this awful show. It would end with Noah and Cody collectively thanking Lady Luck for letting them see each other again.)

* Noah asks if he has to go back to team Chris, and Chris responds that the teams are merging. Everyone welcomes this development except Sierra.

* Once he rejoins the cast proper, Sierra starts picking a fight with him. “Whatever… At least I got to spend more time with Cody.” Noah’s petty. “…At least Cody likes spending time with me.”

* They keep going. “At least I got to sleep with Cody!” “At least I slept with him first!” “At least my parents won’t hate me because I kissed a boy!!” “At least my parents care about me in the first place!!”

* Chris interrupts them: “Okay, okay! As entertaining as this spat is…” Cut to Cody, Tyler and Heather holding back Noah, and Courtney, Alejandro and Duncan holding back Sierra. Cody holds Noah’s mouth shut and Courtney holds Sierra’s shut. “…I’ve got a show to run. Let’s move on, shall we?”

* Sierra’s the first one to spin the roulette machine and she gets Tyler. She’s not happy. Tyler’s met with no one as Sierra yells at Chris to let her spin again. He insists she gets what she gets, and she’s not allowed to re-roll.

* Noah goes after Sierra, and rolls Cody. He pops out and finds himself in front of Noah. He jumps up and hugs him tight as he says it’s “The BEST DAY EVER!!” Sierra seethes in the background.

* Courtney rolls Alejandro and Heather is left with Duncan. Alejandro's disappointed but he won't say that out loud. Courtney on the other hand is SO happy to not be with Duncan.

* (As it turns out, Courtney and Alejandro are more compatible than they thought. Duncan and Heather, on the other hand, are not. Sad.)

* Noah and Cody breeeeeeze through the dress portion of the challenge. Cody’s laying down on his podium kicking around his legs, yelling directions at Noah with the stupidest look on his face. Noah makes it to the dress first and looks it up and down. Cody yells out “I THOUGHT THAT DRESS SUITED YOU WELL!!” Noah weakly yells back “Thank you Cody!” He’s not thrilled about wearing the dress, but he does appreciate Cody leading him to the one he’d be the most comfortable in.

* Noco’s the first ones to walk the tightrope. Cody looks down at the falls nervously, and Noah suggests carrying him instead. Cody stops him, insisting he can do it, and picks Noah up. Noah leans into him, getting comfortable. “If you insist, macho man.”

* Sierra and Tyler go after them and Sierra’s visibly upset. Tyler tries to mellow her out, suggesting that Cody and Noah are happy with each other and maybe she should let them be. Sierra stares at them as they talk about flower arrangements in their hypothetical wedding. She decides that no, she’s not quite ready to let them be, so she starts bouncing to make Tyler wobble and shake the line. It works and both couples fall.

* Cody manages to grab Noah in one arm and the line in another, though he’s struggling. Noah asks him if he can pull them back up (though he knows he can’t.) Cody tries anyway, and strains to the point of veins popping out of his neck. Noah tells him to stop.

* Alejandro and Courtney walk by and Alejandro “accidentally” kicks Cody’s hand off the line. Noco falls, screaming on the way down (“No!” in reality, “Asshole!” If I was allowed to curse.) Courtney is somewhat impressed by his ruthlessness. They win this challenge. Duncan and Heather were just bickering the whole time don’t worry about them.

~*[Events of the comic]*~

* Duncan gets voted out for being a prick and a bastard. Courtney is ok with this.

[dirtbagcore]

THE GIRLS‼️‼️

does anyone remember the wip for this i posted like 3 months ago?? cause i FINALLY got around to finishing it up ヽ(^。^)ノ woohoo

★*☆♪∠※。.:*:・'°☆.。o○

close-ups under the cut ⬇️ (◕ᴗ◕✿)

[yunnimilk]

could u do a fyodor with sub, gn reader with dumbification, overstim, biting and choking too with a red and white theme? (( something non canon, like him being a secret vampire priest or something of the like and reader is a devoted worshipper of his Church mayhaps..)) .. drabble, or full fic for me is fine eitherway!!

「 ✦ AMAB! DOMTOP! Fyodor Dostoevsky x AMAB! GN! SUBBOT! Reader

{ sorry it was a drabble, I started my second year of college so I had a lot of work to do }

DRABBLE !!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine being a membef at a church, you've decided to devote your life to god. Collecting donations and volunteering around the chapel isn’t anything new. Sometimes it was boring, but, this was the price to pay if you wanted to show your dedication to the lord , (^ε^)♪

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | The head pastor introduces a devilishly handsome man to you, asking you to tour him around the church buldings. The stranger had fairly pale skin with reflective dark hair that contrasted with it. Deep purple eyes that suck you in, you couldn't help but blush, which was embarrassingly evident on your face ! ◟꒰◍´Д‵◍꒱◞

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | His soft smiles take your breath away, your heart being pulled out of your chest. You take every opportunity to lovingly stare at his face, and you also got caught several times, but it seemed like he enjoyed your company !

ﾍ(≧▽≦ﾍ) ♪

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | he seemed off though, sometimes his skin would turn grayer and he would avoid mirrors. It's such a coincidence, vampires aren't real, you're being silly !

('A｀*)

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | But,,, one day, you found the man kneeling over, trying to hold his composure. Fyodor was sweating profusely as his fangs sharpened when you got closer to him, letting out a meekly, “f.. father ?”. He stayed still for a moment, his back was turned so you couldn’t see his expression . ( •́ㅿ•̀ )

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Suddenly, he lunges at you! You barely had time to react, instead, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and a wet sensation going down your collarbone. Your eyes found Fyodor's head, him draining all the fluid out your neck. It was really painful at first, then it turned so electrifying, sending shivers righr down your cock . (•ө•)♡

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine Fyodor licking your neck and taking off your clothes, his moist tongue on your skin and you felt yourself getting harder and harder. Your soft moans encourage him to continue . ( ¯ ρ¯ )

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Some time later and your head is buried in your pillows while Fyodor was plunging into you, sloppy and firm. Grinding inside your guts to make sure your prostate gets bullied by his cock, your body was so sore, from the bites and especially from Fyodor's relentless thrusts . o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Your mind was far gone, everything was getting fuzzy and your cheeks were soaked from your tears, your tight, puffy hole making a squelching sound everytime he dug his cock into you. Your body stained from your cum and your blood, what a pretty painting ! ୧(-᷅ ہ-᷄)୨

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | He reaches down your neck as you let out a melodious whimper. Fyodor loves your pretty sounds, to him, it's the same as the church choir, so he's going to make sure you sing for him some more ! •﹏•

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Your cock was so tired just trying to pump out semen, it was throbbing so badly. You begged Fyodor to have mercy on you, "P...plEASE! I- I don't.. I CAN'T.. c-c...come anymore! ~", he tugged your hair back, so you could look at him, "then release yourself for me, one last time, my dear", he went quicker to feel your walls tightening up ! ⚆_⚆

ׂ 𓈒 🍷 ／ ⋆ ۪ | Imagine your eyes rolling back as you felt euphoria coursing through your body as you stiffen up. Your hole squeezing Fyodor's dick, him grunting as his cum intrudes inside your guts ,

"I changed my mind, actually, let's go for another hour hm?"

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot (?) this is more fluff-centric with a lil smut towards the end <3), lighthearted, comfort, dancing in the kitchen, teasing, slight bickering, kissing, couch cuddling, sort of a netflix-and-chill moment?, heavy petting, fingering, riding, vaginal sex, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names "pipsqueak" "baby" "princess". lmk if i missed any tags ! ((unedited))

wc : 3.8k

an : *roxie on the dash* zayne comfort !!! *roxie in the drafts* :D caleb comfort !!!! WHFKJSHDGKJH it's not sunday but i've been writing this through the week between work because i miss him ... and i figured screw it. there are rumors going around. so. if they turn out to be not real. I'LL CONSOLE MYSELF WITH THE FACT THAT HE ISN'T HERE (yet)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Sometimes, slow days with him are all you need to feel a little better.

The fact of the matter was this:

Blankets were comfortable.

Your hands and legs stretched out as you turned, the warmth of the sunlight falling upon your face. You were delighted at the colder sensation on the side of the pillow you hadn't been lying on until now, and a smile spread across your lips—this was nice. Your fingers curled around the duvet, bringing it back up to your neck, and your eyes blinked slowly open. Your position allowed you to glance at the clock on the wall. And though you had fully expected it to be noon, you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not quite as late as you'd assumed.

You had been known to sleep in a little.

Work was demanding; sleep was as much comfort as you could find in your spare time. Weekends, on the other hand, were heavenly for it. So it wasn't a surprise to you that you'd woken up this time with the entire bed to yourself, all warm and comfy in your blankets…

♪ Sunday morning, rain is falling… ♪

Your eyebrows raised as the tune filled your head, wafting into the bedroom along with a more-than-welcome scent of… something.

You couldn't quite make out what it was.

But you were very aware of who was singing, and the smile on your face grew significantly.

This time you sat up and stretched, before swinging your legs off the bed and finding the soft fluff of your bedroom carpet. Your hands moved to rub the lingering sleep from your eyes as you stood up—soft trudges into your slippers, a hand on your doorknob, and the muffled voice became clearer to you.

♪ Clouds are shroudin' us in moments unforgettable~ ♪

It was so silly.

You had to keep yourself from laughing as you peeked around the corner and into the kitchen, and there he was.

The original track was playing lightly in the background, likely to keep him company, but the whole scene was just so typically Caleb. To throw out a couple of tunes without a care in the world, lazily flipping the piece of toast he was frying in such a smooth motion that you almost thought your eyes were playing tricks on you... He had his back turned to you, focused on the stove, but his head moved casually to the rhythm of the song. And it wasn't that you'd say he was bad; in fact, quite the opposite, more like. Not stellar, definitely, but there was a little roughness to his tone that made it feel endearing to listen to. You were grateful for the fact—his voice was much louder than the actual song, and if you weren't enjoying yourself, you might as well have thrown something right at him.

But this time the giggle that was fighting its way out of you felt harder to suppress, and you stepped into the kitchen. Your back leaned against the entrance. "So, it's not Sunday, first of all," you grinned.

He turned at the sound of your voice and threw you a wink. "Ha ha, maybe not, but it sure feels just like it with ya~"

It was swift, the way he pulled at the pan and with a flick of his wrist, and the plates he'd set out a few feet away from him flew perfectly into his waiting hand. The toasts slid right onto them, contents of the pan rather quickly replaced with a set of freshly-cracked eggs.

Impeccable control as always.

Setting the stove back on low heat, he neatly placed the plates back onto the table, and offered a bow. "Mornin', sleepyhead!"

"Show-off," you rolled your eyes playfully.

Yet as he held out his arms for a hug, you were quick to approach. Arms wrapped snugly around his waist as you fell against his chest, a familiar warmth and a familiar feeling of… home.

"Mm…" you sighed. "Yeah, g'morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm! Warm and comfy!" You pulled back a little bit to look up at him, and sighed contentedly. "I mean, partly thanks to you, no less. I didn't put this on last night before we went to bed… You put your sweater on me before you went out. Thanks, Caleb."

"Oh, so we're gonna talk about last night… now?"

A smirk began to form on his face—the teasing lilt in his voice was back, and you shoved him away with a huff.

"No way! I was just thanking you for—"

He promptly scooped you right back into his arms before you could finish your sentence, twirling you around before planting a quick little kiss over your lips.

"Kidding," he whispered.

You could have melted.

Your feet touched the ground once more as he gently set you down, hand sliding away from your waist to go back to the eggs in the pan—you wouldn't have known if it was intentional; you found that you'd learned many new things about him over the past couple of months you'd started a relationship of a more romantic nature. Yet he'd do these things, be all cute and soft with you, and you'd almost feel as if you were in a daze.

You watched, quiet, listening to the music, and his humming… no different from before. He moved around the kitchen, grabbing a couple of things from the side: the onions, some garlic, some tomatoes… You hadn't had omelettes from him in a while, but you already found yourself anticipating how it would taste. After all, he knew exactly how to cook all your favorite dishes. Even the simplest of them.

And the reality that you were always so well-cared-for with him settled in.

It made you smile a little more.

The comfortable silence between you broke as you walked over, peeking from behind him and resting your head against his shoulder. "Sooo… You didn't think to ask me how I like my eggs in the morning?" you teased.

A laugh; another kiss into your hair.

"Me? Nah, don't need to, baby. Already know just how you like them."

With the omelettes settled perfectly in the next minute, he offered a bite for you to try. "Here. Wanna try?" He had his head tilted to the side, almost as if surveying your reaction, but the twinkle in his eyes told you he was confident you'd like it anyway.

He would be right, of course.

You happily obliged as you wrapped your lips around the spoon, and you knew he had to laugh at the way your eyes lit up.

"See?" he poked your forehead with a playful roll of his eyes. "Don't you doubt me!"

"Oh, no no no, I win this. You totally fell for my ploy to sneak an early bite," you grinned. "I didn't doubt you at all!"

"Whatever you say, pipsqueak."

The food found its home on the two plates he'd previously placed the buttered toast on, and this time, it was you who leaned in to steal a kiss.

Soft and quick, not unlike the kiss he'd given you just earlier—

And then another.

And another.

And then within seconds he was laughing, pulling you against him with his hands resting at your waist, your own hands placed upon his shoulders. Your foreheads rest together as he sways you gently to the music—another more of those older tunes he seemed to be fond of these days, a little smooth, jazzy melody to them that surely did have you moving your feet to it.

Not that you looked away from him.

His hair fell over his face, a little bit longer than you were used to—it had been a while since he'd trimmed it, and you had half a mind to think that maybe he'd been a little bit too preoccupied with you to notice.

But it did little to distract you from the pull that his eyes had always had on you.

Still that beautiful, beautiful hue of sunset purple and tangerine skies… You had to let out a soft sigh—

At least, one that nearly turned to a squeak as he took your hand to spin you around. Having caught you off-guard, you could see him nearly double over in laughter at the few missteps in your movements, but he was quick to catch you in a little dip before you could really trip over yourself.

"Heyyyy!" You whined a little, reaching up to flick at his forehead, but he only winked.

The audacity.

His eyes were narrowed playfully, a glimmer of amusement clear on his face. "Alright sorry," he chuckled, "but don't you wanna tell my what's brought this on, at least?"

The song still continued to play through the little speaker, enough to spur him to lead you through to finish it—but his eyebrow remained raised.

"Nothing!" you laughed honestly as he spun you around a second time, successfully this time, before catching your waist and guiding you to glide across the kitchen tiles. "I was just thinking that it's pretty neat to have such a nice, caring boyfriend around…"

"Just pretty neat?"

"Yeah! Just pretty neat."

The last couple notes filled the air as he pulled you back against him, settling into the position you'd started in moments ago.

His forehead pressed against yours.

"I was hoping I'd get something a little more, I dunno… starts with an I, ends with a you, maybe some four-letter-word in the middle…"

You scoffed, and he nuzzled your nose affectionately.

"What? I'm waiting!"

This time, you grinned. "You silly goose," you clicked your tongue, feigning annoyance. But you closed the distance for another quick kiss, and your expression softened. "I love you."

"There we go. I love you too, princess."

Another little kiss, this time to your forehead, before he pushed you back, and gestured towards the table with his eyebrows raised. "So I promise it'll just be a lazy day with the both of us, so you can think up whatever more of those silly antics that I'm totally gonna be on-board with, but eat. It's nearly just noontime, pipsqueak, and I worked on the food, y'know!"

Once again a laugh fell from your lips, and you promptly sat down on the seat he'd pulled for you. But a bite on your spoon reached out towards him; "Okay, but. The chef gets first honors. Say aah~"

And, breakfast—brunch, rather—aside… Caleb kept his promise well.

He knew you usually only had today, and tomorrow, to relax in ways you wouldn't have been able to for the rest of the week. And for the rest of the day, he had simply been adamant on ensuring that you did.

It most definitely was a lazy Saturday.

And now, you had yourself snuggled comfortably on the couch, legs resting over his lap as he surfed through the list of movies on the screen.

"Geez, there's been nothin' interesting out in the past couple months…" He was mumbling under his breath, a tiny furrow of his brows evident to the mix of concentration and frustration.

Yet his free hand had time to run over your exposed thighs, lazily drawing shapes into your skin—so much so that you had nothing left in you to care about anything else he was saying.

"So let's just re-watch something!" you huffed a little, trying to make it seem as if you were keen on making conversation.

"You really wanna?"

A mistake.

He turned from the screen to your face, conveniently catching the way your eyes had been watching the way he caressed your skin, almost subconsciously gliding higher up your legs without really noticing what he'd been doing.

Until now, that is.

"Baby, the screen is here, not there," he teased with a squeeze to your thigh. The action made you gasp, but if you thought he'd tease you further, you were surprised by the gentle tone his voice took on next. "Don't wanna watch a movie anymore, or somethin"?"

Your eyes flitted back up to him. The answer you wanted to speak didn't come out immediately.

"Hey, this day's about you, alright?" He shifted closer this time, one hand reaching out to poke at your forehead. "We don't have to watch. I mean, if you'd rather do somethin' else…"

This time he wiggled his eyebrows a little, daring to slide his hand up a little higher—

You squeaked, clearly the desired effect, as he let out a laugh immediately after.

"Your call, princess."

Swallow your pride, was a phrase you'd often have to repeat to yourself when you were with him.

He used to be a little more lenient with you, but these days he seemed almost insistent to hear the words out of your mouth instead—for good reason, you figured. You knew that he knew you well enough, but you couldn't blame him for wanting you to speak.

So you shifted your position to settle over him, noting the curious gaze in his eyes as you snuggled against his chest.

"Baby?"

"Don't really wanna do much," you mumbled. "But… I want to be close to you. I mean… We can watch something if you want to, but, mmh…. I'm okay with just this. With you."

"Yeah?"

"…Yeah."

He rubbed soothingly into your back. "Alright, alright, I can work with that... But, hm. 1-10 on the cozy scale?"

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him with a little pout. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you looked pretty riled up a second ago, princess, so you tell me if you want me to do anything, right?"

Another glimmer of amusement.

Part of it was frustrating—but, again. Swallow your pride. You were sure that as much as he adored pushing your buttons, he wasn't quite doing this on purpose.

So a soft laugh through your nose.

"Okay, not the level of rough from last night, if anything," you joked. "But… Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'd… like it if you touch me."

Nothing quite changed in the way his hands were moving over your back in the same consistent, soothing motions, but he smiled—satisfied with your honesty, and more than willing to oblige.

"God, I love it when you're honest," he chuckled. He deftly slipped his hands beneath your sweater—his sweater—and sighed.

And perhaps it was this moment of intimacy, but you felt yourself leaning up, hands cupping his face, pressing your lips against his.

It wasn't rushed, nor heated.

He smiled into the kiss, and your lips moved almost lazily against each other. Eyes closed, enjoying the casual comfort of the moment, your thumb gently rubbing over his cheek as his hands explored every dip and curve of your skin.

Blankets were comfortable, and dancing in the kitchen was fun, but, this—this was really all that you needed.

"Mmmh…"

You sighed as you pulled back for air, but quite frankly, neither of you very much wanted to part.

It only took a few moments before he was kissing you, and you were kissing him, and your fingers had nestled into his hair as his trailed down to slip beneath the band of your underwear.

"So wet, baby," he murmured against your lips, a trace of a laugh in the way he spoke.

You smiled, and tilted your head, allowing the kiss to grow from soft, and lazy, to a little bit deeper.

"Mhm. S'for you," you whispered.

And a low groan tore from your throat as his fingers sunk into your heat, the feeling oh-so-familiar, and oh-so-welcome. And with how many times you'd done this, the stretch felt nothing more than you were used to—but it was delicious.

Your legs spread in an immediate response to the intrusion, allowing him to move a little easier. Separating from the kiss for a mere moment, your head turned back, just in time to see him pull out and discard your panties completely, just in time to watch the way he thrust back slowly into your walls, the squelch of your wetness so deafening in your ears.

"Holy shit," you whispered—and it was almost ridiculous how you sounded, you'd think, so much so that you had to let out a breathless laugh as you turned back to him.

He raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Yeah? Feels good, huh?"

"Real fucking good."

It was his turn to laugh a little. "Yep. I totally love when you're honest."

Before you could lean back in to kiss him, however, he helped you sit up with him, moving both his hands back over your waist to grab a handful of the flesh of your ass.

"Easier this way," he murmured.

And he kept a hand behind you while the other moved to your front, resuming steady thrusts that had you slowly grinding into his palm.

"Nnnh.. If you keep teasing me like that, m'not going to wait any longer for more than just your fingers," you rolled your eyes.

But he was right; it was easier like this. He had his other hand running up and over your entire body, slipping back beneath the sweater before dipping down over your ass—it was easier for you, too, finding the momentum to guide the movements of his fingers in your cunt, urging him to rub against your sweet spot.

Even as your lips found each other within moments yet again, busy with all these sensations and the wet noises that you felt were echoing in the living room, your hips continued to move—a little up-and-down motions, riding his fingers, very evidently craving more.

"Thaaaat's it," he groaned against your lips, finding time to speak praises of approval in-between kisses and gasps for air. "Get off on my fingers, baby. Y'feel good? Hm?"

You no longer had the mind to reply to him.

Kisses turned to whispers of dirty words into your hair, your face buried into the crook of your shoulder. Muffled moans, movements more frantic…

And then you said it.

"Need you," you gasped, feeling him hit that spongy spot once more. "Need—hngh—need you, Caleb, need more—"

Another kiss over your head. "Shh, shhh. I'll give it to you, baby. Just a little more…"

"Mnh, but! I don't— don't want to—haah—like this—"

"Relaaxx, princess. Breathe, alright?"

He was so deep. So good. So—

"Not this, I wanna cum on your cock…"

You felt him smirk.

It was almost as if he'd been waiting, again, to hear it—to push you enough to have you snap, have you disregard that little tiny bit of pride you still have left.

"Yeah?" he grinned, and he pulled his fingers out of you with a little schlick.

You nearly whined at the sudden emptiness, so much so that even without his fingers to ride, you couldn't help but grind over his bulge.

"Baby," he laughed. "Are you that excited?"

Your movements made it difficult for him to deal with the tie of his sweatpants.

"Just… just hurryyyy!"

"Geez. I've spoiled you, huh, princess? Got you craving my dick this much?"

With a huff from you, he lifted you up just enough to push down his pants and take out his cock. A couple of pumps over his length and you sat yourself down, taking him in with a long, drawn-out moan.

"Oh, fuck, baby."

He was no different.

"Who's—haah—who's the cocky one now, huh?" You managed to smirk at him, despite the way you were panting, despite the way you could feel him, warm and pulsing, reaching deep into your pussy.

You were so full.

"Shit, baby, just move—" He choked on a moan, almost instinctively thrusting up into you.

You fell forward into his chest with a startled cry, but it was enough.

The feeling was not one you were keen on letting fade, and your hips began to move. Slowly, at first, almost as if getting a feel for it again, before moving faster. And he was groaning, and hissing, cursing into your ear, trying to keep his voice down, restlessly roaming his hands over your body. It didn't take long before he was pressing you tightly against him, your bodies moving in a synchronized push-and-pull.

Your hips moved up and down, hands gripping his arms to steady yourself. "Caleb—!" Your moans mixed with broken words, broken syllables of his name, higher-pitched than usual as you worked yourself over his cock.

You could see another one of those shit-eating grins making its way to his face, all flushed and heedy with lust, but you couldn't be bothered to care about it anymore.

"You should see yourself, princess," he panted, moving his hands to grip your cheeks tightly and earning a delicious gasp from your lips. "Shit—fuck—can't ever get enough of you, baby, you're so fucking perfect f'me."

"Mhm? Feels good? Feels… Feels…! Nngh—Caleb! F-feels so good—"

Your movements began to turn frantic.

Grunts and groans mixed in with the slap of skin against skin as you bounced yourself over him, his own thrusts meeting yours with a fervor. There was the heady scent of sex in the air, and you could barely even remember what you'd planned to do here in the first place.

"M-mmhn—! G-gonna cum!" you whined, breathless.

You were panting, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying with every ounce of your strength to keep yourself consistent despite the building tingling in your stomach, despite the tensing in your limbs.

"Cum for me, baby."

He leaned in to nip at your earlobe before trailing his lips over to yours, swallowing that loud cry of his name into a deep, filling kiss.

It was messy.

Your body slumped against his as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, body trembling almost helplessly in his arms. Your chest heaved; you could feel the warmth spreading inside you as he spilled his cum inside within seconds of your orgasm, and you whimpered—you felt so sensitive.

"Shit… Fuck… I know, baby, I know, I know, you did so well…" He cradled you in his arms, voice low and hoarse. In that same comforting manner, he had himself rubbing your back soothingly, giving you a little bit of a squeeze. "Shh, it's okay. Breathe, princess, breathe."

And it would be like this.

You stayed still in that same position for a moment, Caleb whispering soft little words of reassurance, sweet words of praise as he peppered kisses all over your face.

"Satisfied, on a scale of 1-10?" he chuckled a little, stealing a kiss from your lips as you looked back up at him.

Your eyes softened.

"You're kidding, right?" you murmured. "A 10. With you? Always a 10."

"I mean, yeah, I'll bet. You were practically crying about how good my—"

"Caleb!"

You'd reached to grab a nearby pillow and promptly shove it at his face, but it did little to stop the laughter from bubbling from his throat.

"Okay, okay! But! C'mon. Nice start to your weekend, right?"

And this time, you grinned.

"…You know what? Yeah, you're right. Always feels like a Sunday with you."

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[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) you plus me is three

𝜗𝜚 ITOSHI SAE: KNAUTIA.

a/n: [fem!reader] sae sae sae come home the kids miss you butt mention near the end ☹️ inspired by a reel i saw on insta!!!! ENJOY HUHU!!! ♪( ´▽｀)

to love,

"i'm home!"

the smell of comfort washes over your weary soul after another demanding day at work. as you take a deep breath, a bit of dusted cocoa, hints of cinnamon chai latte and just a smidge of caramel seeps into your lungs. whirrs of the dish washer, occasional rumbles of the washing machine and cicada chirps flood the energy in your brain, making your body feel limp. it feels like your ankles are about to give out as you take of your shoes while touching the wall to keep balance.

walking in, all the lights are warm and dim. unlike your workplace, walking in being greeted by a wave of cold air, where the lights are too cool for your liking. you let out an exasperated sigh, before looking from side to side to see of you could spot your husband, sae, or your daughter, fuyumi.

faux cosmetic products scattered the floor with its bright pink hues too vibrant to miss. occasional dolls here and there, with new hairstyles and plastic hair clips littered here and there. the tv has been left on pause, so it’s not like they’ve been away long. you smile to yourself. definitely didn’t get bored while mama was gone, huh?

to change,

you and sae had evolved from initial necklaces and hoodies, to wedding rings and shirts. slipping into something snug and soft, curiosity infects your heart once again and the feeling encourages you to keep searching for them. walking up the stairs, you feel the cold railing under your fingertips send little chills down your spine. the warm cocoa smell gets washed over by the overwhelming scent of your frangipani and coconut perfume.

“yumi~! where are you two silly little…” chuckling to yourself, thinking about what the two might be up to. you walk down the hallway, grazing your hand upon every doodle sprinkled door before ending up at you and your husband’s shared bedroom where the door was slightly ajar. before even laying your fingers on the handle, you’re greeted with a soft thud.

you suddenly gently bump into a familiar detergent. rosewood and jasmine. the subtle scent hypnotises you for a second, nostalgia washing over you until the friction of your husband’s hands meet your skin. he fumbles with his hands for a split second before effortlessly holding the base of your back, catching you with ease.

“hi sweetheart.” he smiles, sae’s hands slowly slip down to your rear, gently squishing a handful.

“hi, sa—“your sweet voice cuts off, spotting little stains of lips on his shirt.

“where did this come from?” you smile awkwardly, your hands on his chest moving to tug at the collar of his white blouse, noticing a couple of small pink kiss marks scattered near his neck, slightly dishevelled.

fuyumi’s little figure emerges from your vanity, your old lipstick in her small grasp. her rosy bangs which matched her father’s (slightly shorter than her eyebrows), small toothy smile and long lower lashes catching your eye. she wraps her little arms around you and sae’s leg, squeezing her face in between.

“meee!” she giggled.

and to become.