#FUCKING USE THE RIGHT GODS DAMNED WORD!!!

[isaisliterallyhim]

"what the hell were we? tell me weren't just friends!"

ft. michael kaiser . asshole! kaiser . ooc! kaiser ? . fem! reader . reader going thru a bum situationship . kaiser doesnt help lol . toxic fwb situation . breeding ? . seeeex . unreliable narrator . smut . smut after the cut bware!

synopsis: being extremely pissed off with this one guy you're talking with — you complained to a close friend of yours, kaiser. pushing your luck with the relationship you two had, you asked him to come over. y'know maybe for comfort or something, right? the night for sure took a shift in direction. have you forgotten? you n kaiser had a friends with benefits complex.

wc: 1.3k

"uuugh, this guys so confusing!" you whined. kaiser listened carefully as you continued to whine on call. "does he like me or is he just tryna get pussy? what the fuuuuck!" you continued to complain.

he smirked, "seems like he's a hassle." he was shut up immediately as you yelled, "because he is one!" calming down, you asked sweetly. "mihyaa.. can you come over?" how could he say no?

you were wearing nothing but his t-shirt. kneeling in front of him, he took out his member. fuck you forget how big this guy is. the pretty rosewood tip was leaking with precum.

you pressed your lips onto his tip, placing a small kiss. licking your lips and savouring the slightly sweet and salty taste. forming your lips into an "o" you got down at it. your warm and moist mouth sucked this guy offff.

"s-scheiße..[name] ouuh, god." kaiser moaned. "your mouth feels so good.." he gripped you by the hair and forced you to swallow him a little deeper. your nose grazed slightly against his pubes. balls deep. you gagged a little. then, you bobbed your head as you kept sucking. and sucking. aaand more sucking.

his grip on your hair got tighter. he didn't even give you a chance to react as he finished in your mouth. his crazy strength kept your mouth on his cock. it hurt your knees. you also didn't want to swallow but this guy GAVE YOU NO CHOICE. you swallowed. slowly, he let go of your hair. there was an erotic pop as you gently peeled your lips off his member.

"mihya.!" you frowned. kaiser chuckled at your expression. those gorgeous lips formed into a frown as a bit of his cum was somewhat dripping from your mouth despite you swallowing. "sorry, meine liebe. not my fault your mouth feels extraordinary," he smiles. fuck. he knew how to use his words.

"i dunno why you're so upset though, [name]," the emperor smirked. he pulled you by the arm, to the position in which you're now standing. he got on his knees, (the emperor on his knees?! girl you got him over you! even if ur j fwb jesus!!) to face the level of your pussy. he traced his finger along the wet spot of your panties. a little squelch could be heard.

" 'cause she certainly not mad," he smiled in that dumbass smug way again. god you wanted to slap his stupidly attractive face. you were hit immediately with a flushed feeling. "s-shut the hell up!" you stammered. "jus' natural after i do something intimate. not that you have a toll on me or something," you muttered.

in one swift movement, he pushed you onto the bed. you laid on your back as he towered over you. your panties were slipped to the side as he slipped into you. you let out a high-pitched yelp. "y-yer so shallow, mihya..!" you moaned out. all so suddenly, this fucking guy just put it in? no foreplay no nothing? there's no way you were THAT wet.. okay to be fair he did get it in without hurting so...

as he kept thrusting, the shirt slowly rode up. the wet plapping sound of your bodies colliding was beginning to drive you crazy. "haa, calling me shallow but i'm just gettin' deeper.." kaiser groaned out. your walls were clenching onto his shaft for dear damn life.

you bit your lower lip til it bled. fuck the sensation. was crazy. "i fuckin' haaaate! you-!" you moaned out, voice going a few pitches higher as he hit that gummy spot within you. you grit your teeth as your back arched. shit. that arch was craaazy. "y-you, ooh! keep leadin' me on!" you gasped out. "ya different from those other guys or you jus' the same!?" you continued. (how do you eve have the energy to say that...?) "cause you keep fuckin' leading me into yer room. how's that my fault?" the prodigy grunted, his accent running through. you kept moaning and creaming over his dick. it was getting hard for him to not cum in you right there n then. your walls were sucking him in. he could cry. your nails began scratching and digging into his skin. "mihyaaa!" you cried as you came. the ecstasy filling your veins as he thrusted in you a few more times for you to ride your high. "how many times now?" his accent a lil' rougher than before. "forgot.." you muttered out a reply, catching your breath. you had that fucked out facial expression. seeing your expression, his once slightly limp cock was hard again. this guy is not softening up anytime soon..

prone-bone, doggy, mating press, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. seashell, valedictorian, lotus position. everything was going on. while you were riding him, he made you do all the work. "tell me, meine liebe." he began. "confess to me, what's the worst?"

you fucking yourself dumb on his maaassive cock, you couldn't reply. the hell? he thinks you can form an answer after all that?! his annoying ahh voice chuckled, "that bad? your eyes are rollin' to the back of your head. can you formulate a single word? dumb dumb girl. why do ya think yer always gettin' played?" kaiser smirked. despite teasing or just making fun of you, there was a twinge of emotion. jealousy was it? envy..? anger..? who cared. you were getting your BRAINS fucked out man. "you're so smart... what happened now hm?" he sighed contently, switching positions as he kept thrusting. the gloss in your eyes matched the gloss on your lips.

"mihya- michael fuucking kaiser-" you were able to scream out. "finish in me plea- please..!" you sobbed. your eyes widened as he shut you the hell up with a passionate kiss.

tears were pooling. hands intertwining. ew. it was kinda gross. you couldn't breathe at all. your lips parted, giving his tongue an invitation to slide in. kaiser was actually losing his shit at this point. wild? this guy was going feral. genuinely feral.

the slight aftertaste of his semen (salty ahh) lingering in your mouth... the flavour of your mouth n his semen mixed drove him once again, insane. could there be a girl more perfect than you? nah. kaiser's ego was too big to admit that.

one more sloppy thrust and he relaxed his body. he came in you. your legs loosened around his waist as you came undone as well. kaiser stayed a little longer, not letting a single ounce of his seed drip out of you.

your soaked n warm cunt took all of that semen (oh yea girl!) he pulled out, running his hand thru his rigid ahh hair (no srsly wtf is that rattail hair oh gawd..) you were still dazed. blinking a few times you got up.

"mihya?! you're jus' gonna leave like that?!" you exclaimed as you sat up. he was already putting on his clothes. "mhm. i am, schatz." he replied.

"wait- but t-that's unfair!" you frowned. he didn't bat a single eye or did he dare to look in your direction. "what the hell are we?! please don't tell me we're just friends!" you sobbed. you were an emotional outbreak.

despite being the arrogant man he is, kaiser felt a pang of hurt. for himself and you. if he told you the truth on how he felt, he'd injure his fat ego. but if he didn't, he'd hurt you. kaiser's ego was very dear to him. it's what kept him alive to this point.

"come to my game tomorrow if you wanna see me, [name]." he sighed, buckling his pants. "you dick! not even aftercare!? fuck you kaiser!" you whined out. shit. you knew he hated being called by his last name. you were kinda annoying. did he care? na, not really he was all for it.

kaiser knew you'd come to his game either way. he just wanted to taunt you. before leaving, he uttered words you never expected to hear. "[name], y'know you're my dream girl right?"

michael kaiser damaged his ego that night. all he ever wanted to was to be able to express his affection for you. if only you knew how heavenly perfect you were in his eyes.

a/n: can u tell i lost motivation and the plot half way lol... exams punched the hell out of me oh fawk why am i still recovering.. once again i suck at writing smut, like i suck in general but smut is not my cup of tea.. (i say as i continue writing HAHA) hopefully ygs enjoyed T_T this unironically made me so mad ? i got so lost while writing so er.. if its actually unreadable and confusing im sorry. i tried ok 😓once again, english isn't my first language n i don't have any prior experience... kaiser's so hot tho if he was my situationshup id get on my knees oh fawkkk... 0 to no proof reading btw this has been stuck in my drafts since the starf of conception! work was heavily based off of church.. and friends ig. also writing this sparked me how bad my love ife is, heavens... ya this is all yap hope ygs devoured this (isagi ref?!) im flopping omg...

[lichenes]

Let The Weak Suffer.

I saw this post and had to write something on this cuz the premise is absolutely fantastic ;_; obviously go read this first!!! send love to the author :D the phrase "he sounds like an elk in heat when he fucks" will forever be cemented in my brain tbh. anyway, hope you enjoy!! (feel free to send asks for cod boys :D) CW: nothing!! sfw wc: 451 .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚

They weren’t disruptive in any other way, you told yourself. They didn’t throw loud parties or cook any food that was too much olfactorily, yet when you coincidentally got out of your apartments at the same time you couldn’t quite look them in the eye. 

Being tormented this long was driving you crazy. Every night, when you were just on the brink of sleep, your borderline sadistic neighbours would start their mating sessions. It was like they could sense you falling into the NREM phase of your slumber each and every time. 

The night you heard your name being moaned you felt something break in you… and something primal emerge. You were ready to get out of your bed right that second and march yourself over to their place. 

You found yourself standing in front of your door, debating if you should go out and… talk to them. Look them in the eye and hope to find words that would describe the feelings you felt every time that god damned headboard would knock against the wall. 

You decided against it.

Soon enough, during one of your late night study sessions happening in your bed, you heard the familiar sounds of coitus happening not 30 centimeters away from you. You were tired and burned out from all the knowledge entering your brain and they were. Not. Helping. 

In your slippers and pyjamas you shuffled over to their apartment and rang the bell. You weren’t sure what they were trying to achieve with their lovemaking at such ungodly hours. 

You stood anxiously in front of the entrance and just when you turned back to walk into your own apartment, the door opened.

 “Oi.”

You froze in sudden terror. You were standing turned just enough to see him standing only in his boxers - the neighbor you’ve come to know as Simon. “Need something luv?” He challenged, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. You sighed. “Actually yeah.”

You walked closer to him and got obnoxiously close to his face, not missing hints of sweat in his aura, undoubtedly present, taunting. “I need you to stop fucking so loud.” He was taken aback by your phrasing for a second, expecting something more timid. He regained his composure as fast as he lost it.

He was just about to answer your not so unserious quip when John popped his head out of their bedroom and smiled at you brightly. “Who d’we have ‘ere?” He chuckled. “Bonnie decided to join us?” You sighed theatrically. “Hello John.” He waved at you with his shit-eating grin. 

You turned your attention back to Simon. “Please... consider?” You folded, you were pleading. And right then, he knew, they won. 

.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ .  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚.  * 　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ masterlist

[ikkyfics]

Paint Me Yours

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Warnings: fluffy, language, veteran!reader/freshman!Dave(two years difference), suggestive, college au, first kiss, no use of y/n

A/N: I know that each uni has its own hazing, but here is what happened at mine - a paint bath to celebrate approval

My dear love @gingerteafairy, thank you very much for giving me this idea, I hope you like it <333

Masterlist

You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

It was the first day of university, and he was a little lost—okay, very lost, actually. The campus was huge, and there were so many people that the place looked like an anthill. That’s when you appeared, dazzling, and asked if he was one of the freshmen. Dave needed a second or two before he stammered out a yes, watching your smile widen before you started guiding him.

During the welcome party organized by the upperclassmen, Dave could barely take his eyes off you—off your pretty mouth. The way you smiled while answering other freshmen’s questions. At some point, your gaze landed on him—maybe you’d felt his eyes boring into you—and your lips curved into a smile. Dave looked around, unsure if that smile was actually meant for him, but then you laughed, saying goodbye to the people around you before walking toward him.

“Hi,” you greeted, that smile still wrapped around your lips. “Dave, right?”

He nodded, feeling his heart stumble, not trusting his own voice to respond. He barely noticed he’d been holding his breath when you bit your lip, and God, what wouldn’t he give to be the one to do that? They looked so soft and plump—he suspected they were sweet, too.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

Dave blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. “Uh… yeah, sure. Everything looks great.” He wanted to slap himself. Damn it, fighting criminals was fine, but talking to a pretty girl? Impossible.

You didn’t seem to mind his lack of tact, though. In fact, you looked amused. “I’m glad,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Was it too soon to reveal that he wouldn’t shut up when it came to something he liked? Probably, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Depends. I can be exhausting sometimes.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he knew he could start rambling if it meant hearing that laugh again. “That’s a little hard to believe.”

Dave stared at you, lips parted in surprise. No, that definitely wasn’t flirting. Absolutely not. Or was it?

Before he could respond, you quickly changed the subject. “You should grab one of the donuts before they’re gone, you know? You’ve barely moved from that corner since you got here.”

“You, uh… noticed me?”

You paused for a moment, as if only now realizing what you’d said. But the surprise on your face was quickly replaced with a relaxed expression.

“I kind of have to. It’s part of my job as an upperclassman, you know—guiding freshmen and all that. So, have you tried one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we need to fix that right now. Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the table where the donuts were. You handed him one with pink frosting and colorful sprinkles, your eyes shining with anticipation. “Try it.”

He raised his hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the donut. Maybe he blushed under the intensity of your gaze—just maybe. When he took a bite, he closed his eyes, letting out a hum of approval. The dough was soft, and the frosting was perfect.

Your smile widened, if that was even possible. “So?”

Dave opened his eyes, finding you leaning closer to him. He drank in your image—the way the light illuminated your eyes, the soft curve of your mouth, how painfully beautiful you were. He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

“I think it’s pretty girl—” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Good! Pretty good. I think it’s pretty good.”

He didn’t dare look up. What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, why couldn’t he act like a normal person?

Hearing the soft sound of your laughter, he exhaled deeply, lifting his gaze hesitantly, only to find a playful smile dancing on your pretty mouth. The weight on his shoulders lifted slightly at your reaction. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t ruined everything just yet.

“Dave,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you tried to stifle your laughter, “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Almost reflexively, a sheepish smile curved his lips. “Sometimes.”

From that first encounter, Dave Lizewski knew he was screwed.

The weeks that followed were a blur. He kept himself busy trying to adapt to his new reality, but every time he crossed paths with you on campus, it was like being struck by lightning.

You always smiled at him, asking one question or another, which Dave took forever to answer because he was too distracted admiring you. He became especially distracted when you wore those spaghetti-strap tops that highlighted your bust. Marty once jokingly told him to wipe the drool off his face while he watched you from across the hallway.

Today had been surprisingly light. There were still a few hours until sunset, and classes had ended a few minutes ago. Dave was walking among the other students in his class, heading out of the building, when he noticed the murmurs around him. He pulled out one of his earbuds, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Did you hear? There's a stash of paint in the lockers," someone said, and it didn’t take long for the other person to reply with a smirk, “I think today’s the day. I mean, it’s been almost a month since classes started.”

But it wasn’t until Dave reached the entrance of the building that he realized what was about to happen. The upperclassmen were gathered, and there was a dizzying amount of tempera paint in sight.

However, that wasn’t what caught his attention. You were there, radiant as always, but today you looked like you were ready to give him a heart attack. The only things covering your body were shorts and a thin top. He swallowed hard as his eyes lingered on your legs, on how soft they looked. It wasn’t hard to imagine how it would feel to settle between them. The image popped into his mind as clear as the waters of a pristine lake. You riding him, your face clouded with pleasure, the sounds you would make. The intensity of the thought made him blush, and he quickly buried his indecent ideas before they caused trouble in his pants.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, continued organizing some of the paint. The memory of your own hazing was still fresh in your mind. It had been epic—there was no other word for it. You didn’t have to think twice before agreeing to do the same for the freshmen.

Hearing the commotion, your eyes lifted just in time to catch sight of Dave. A small smile curved your lips without your permission. That was the effect he had on you, one you were definitely fighting against. He was a freshman, probably two years younger than you, and you had never been with a younger guy before.

The very thought brought a feeling of unease.

But it would be a lie to say he hadn’t been occupying your thoughts more frequently. It was hard—impossible—not to be drawn to those eyes, as bright as sapphires, and those dark curls that constantly fell over his forehead. They were adorable. How many times had your fingers itched with the urge to push them back from his handsome face?

And it wasn’t as though you didn’t know you had some effect on him. It wasn’t arrogance—Dave just wasn’t very discreet. He always blushed and seemed to struggle to find the right words. It was genuinely cute.

Without thinking, you headed toward him.

Dave didn’t notice you approaching right away. He was too busy trying to act casual, which only made him look even more awkward, staring at the ground, his earbuds now hanging around his neck. But when he finally sensed your presence, his whole body tensed, as if the air around him had turned into static electricity.

“Hi, Dave.” Your voice was soft but carried something he couldn’t quite place—a warmth that made his stomach flip with nerves—and something else he didn’t want to name.

He looked up, and seeing you so close rendered him momentarily speechless. The late afternoon sun lit up your face, highlighting every detail—the curve of your lashes, the soft shape of your lips, the delicate line of your jaw. It was impossible not to be captivated.

“Hi,” he finally managed to mumble, his voice rougher than he would’ve liked.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked on his with a playful glint. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He tried to smile but ended up with something awkward instead. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I mean, you just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Did I?” You laughed, and the sound seemed to echo inside him. “Or maybe you were just distracted.” Your voice lowered slightly on the last word, almost as if you were teasing him. And it worked. Dave felt his face heat up instantly.

Without hurry, you took a step closer, invading his personal space. “Are you staying for the hazing?”

He blinked, surprised, his eyebrows rising. “Hazing? Uh… I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into something that looked like a challenge. “Oh, come on, are you really going to tell me you’re not joining? It’s nothing scary, I promise.” Your voice was persuasive, carrying something that made him want to say “yes” to anything you asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but something in the way you looked at him—like you were challenging him, but with a sweetness that made him want to impress you—made him nod. “Alright. What do I have to do?”

“First,” you started, pointing to the small group of freshmen gathered a little ahead, “leave your backpack over there with the others. You won’t need it right now.”

Dave followed your gaze and saw the other freshmen dropping their bags near a makeshift bench, some already with their arms and faces painted in bright colors. They were laughing, exchanging jokes, their energy light and full of the excitement of new beginnings. Dave sighed, adjusting the strap on his shoulder before finally moving to do the same. He placed his backpack down carefully, as if the act itself carried more significance than it seemed—a small gesture of belonging.

When he came back to you, he seemed more relaxed, but you couldn’t ignore his posture. It was hard not to notice—the way his shoulders stayed square, his arms defined even without him trying to show them off. He was fit, very fit, and you found the words a little harder to get out as you tried not to make it too obvious. Still, the idea of touching him, even under the innocent pretense of the prank, made your heart beat a little faster.

“You’re going to need to take off your jacket,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Dave hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, unzipping it slowly, the sound of the metal seeming louder than necessary in the silence between you. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders with a natural ease that felt almost rehearsed, folding it carefully before setting it on a nearby bench. The white shirt underneath seemed simple at first glance, but now, with him more exposed, you noticed how perfectly it fit him—highlighting his chest and arms in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Do I need to roll up the sleeves too?” he asked, already pulling one sleeve up to his elbow before you could respond.

You only managed to nod, pretending to be deeply focused on grabbing the paint. But it was impossible not to notice his movements—the firm way his fingers gripped the fabric, the casual way he folded each side, leaving his forearms exposed. And oh, those forearms. The muscles flexed slightly with each fold. Heat rose to your face, and you quickly lowered your eyes, forcing yourself to focus, clearing your throat.

“Green,” you blurted out suddenly, as if the words slipped out without thinking. He stopped, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?”

“Green suits you,” you explained, gesturing toward the row of paints. Your voice came out firmer than you expected, but the truth was that having him so close was starting to mess with your ability to form complete sentences.

Dave raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Does it? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It just does. I’d guess you belong in Slytherin.”

He frowned, feigning indignation. “Slytherin? Are you serious?”

You laughed, enjoying the playful tone in his voice. “Yes.”

“I’m definitely a Gryffindor, for your information,” he replied, crossing his arms, though the amused curve of his lips remained. “Lions are better than snakes.”

“Oh, I see.” You laughed again, grabbing the pot of green paint and carefully opening it. “But today, you’re going to be a Slytherin, sweetheart.”

He smiled, but you could see the faint flush creeping up his ears, something that made him look even more endearing. Would he mind if his cheeks were bitten? You blinked, forcing that thought away.

“Now stay still,” you said, dipping your fingers into the cool paint. “I’ll start with your arms.”

Dave obeyed, keeping still, but you could feel his full attention on you. Your fingers touched his skin, sliding carefully as you began drawing soft lines and delicate strokes along his forearm. The warm texture of his skin contrasted with the fresh paint, and you lost yourself for a moment in the simple act of tracing each curve.

He was quiet, but you could feel his breathing change—slightly heavier, as if he was aware of every touch. When you glanced up to check if he was okay, you realized he was looking too. Not at his arm, but at you.

His gaze was intense, his blue eyes fixed on your face for a few seconds before dropping, almost accidentally, to the neckline of your shirt. The movement was so quick that he blinked, shifting his focus back to his arm, but the blush rising to his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“I... uh, you’re pretty detail-oriented, huh?” he tried, his voice slightly lower than before.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your face too. “I like to do things properly. Now your forehead.”

He blinked, surprised. “My forehead?”

“It’s a prank, Dave,” you replied, laughing. “The arms are just the beginning. Come here.”

He tilted his head hesitantly, letting you get closer. Your fingers were covered in paint, and as you began to glide the tip along the contours of his forehead, you realized just how close you were—so close you could catch the subtle scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy.

The silence between you grew heavy, charged with something that felt electric. Each breath seemed synchronized, every move you made met with his gaze. When you finished the drawing, your fingers lingered, still lightly brushing against his skin. It was Dave who broke the silence, laughing softly.

“Now that you're officially painted, I think you're ready to be a proper freshman,” you joked, trying to ease the tension hanging between you.

You stepped back, tilting your head to evaluate your work. He already had some green marks scattered across his arms and forehead, but somehow, he still looked surprisingly... neat. That wouldn’t last long, of course.

“Time for a picture,” you said, raising your phone. “We need to capture this ‘tidy’ phase,” you explained, stifling a laugh. “Because soon, my friend, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

He chuckled, a bit shyly, and nodded. “Alright.”

You winked, adjusting the angle of your phone. He stood there with a small, reserved smile, proudly displaying the name of his course and the university's initials, but with an ease so natural that you didn’t need to ask for anything else. “Look here,” you directed, snapping the photo. “This one’s good. Now, give me a serious face or something.”

He attempted a more serious pose, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow, but the effect was ruined when he started laughing—soft and full of life.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” you teased, laughing along. “Alright, last one. Just smile this time.”

He complied, and this time his smile was brighter, more carefree—something so genuine you already knew it would be your favorite. “Done. Immortalized.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he said, still smiling.

Before you could respond, one of the upperclassmen clapped loudly to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, freshmen! Everyone, listen up!”

Dave turned toward the voice, and you used the moment to pocket your phone, staying close as the upperclassman explained what would happen next.

“Now that you’ve all been properly christened, it’s time for the fun part of initiation. Everyone is going to form a line, holding hands, and we’re going to walk from here to the main engineering building over there,” he pointed to a building about a 15-minute walk away, “leaving a trail of paint behind us. Along the way, we’re going to throw paint at you. A lot of paint. And just so you know: if any of you freshmen try to fight back, you’ll get an extra soaking. Got it?”

The freshmen murmured their agreement, some chuckling nervously. Beside you, Dave seemed amused, his easy smile firmly in place. That was when you realized your role was about to begin: as an upperclassman, your job wasn’t just to watch—it was to dive into the colorful chaos and make sure no one got out unscathed.

You turned to him, a playful glint in your eye. “You know, Dave, I think you should take your glasses off.”

He blinked, surprised. “Take my glasses off? Why?”

“Trust me,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “The paint will get everywhere, and you don’t want to ruin the lenses.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. Then, with a sigh, he slowly removed his glasses and handed them to you. “Fine. But if I trip over someone, it’s your fault.”

You laughed, holding the glasses carefully. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry. Can you still see anything?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost with genuine concern.

Dave tilted his head, that small smile appearing again. “I think I can... enough to know you’re still there.”

Your laugh was a bit nervous, but you covered it by glancing away. “Well, that’s enough.”

He laughed too, that light sound contagious. And before you could respond, the upperclassmen started moving, organizing the freshmen into a line. “Take good care of those,” he said, pointing to his glasses. “I’m trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” you replied, waving the glasses before stepping away.

Dave joined the line of freshmen, falling into place among them. You watched as he took the hands of two other students, looking both relaxed and a little eager. The upperclassmen began circling the group, armed with bottles and squirt guns filled with colorful paint.

“Alright, everyone!” one of the upperclassmen yelled, a mischievous grin on his face. “No mercy!”

You grabbed your improvised weapon—a bottle filled with vibrant blue paint—and walked alongside the freshmen, your eyes inevitably searching for him in the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find him; it was as if your eyes were drawn to him naturally. His smile was still there, as if he was genuinely enjoying the impending chaos.

Music started playing—something upbeat and lively from a portable speaker someone had brought. It was the perfect soundtrack for the moment, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the energetic rhythm set the tone.

As the group began to move, the upperclassmen launched their attack. Paint flew in every direction, splattering onto laughing freshmen who tried—and failed—to dodge the colorful assault. You aimed for Dave, squeezing your bottle and hitting him square on the shoulder. He stopped, pretending to look offended as he laughed.

“You did that on purpose!” he accused, pointing at you, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Of course I did!” you shot back, unable to stop laughing. “What, you thought I’d spare you?”

He shook his head, still grinning, and kept walking. But you weren’t done yet. At every opportunity, you squirted more paint at him, streaking blue and green across his arms and back. Other upperclassmen joined in, but you got the sense that he was far more aware of your attacks than anyone else’s.

The soundtrack kept playing as the group moved forward slowly, everyone fully immersed in the fun. Dave, now almost unrecognizable with the amount of paint covering his hair and clothes, still seemed to be having more fun than anyone else. But amidst the chaos of colors and laughter, something glimmered in his eyes—a kind of challenge. Before you could prepare yourself, he took two quick steps toward you, his paint-covered hand reaching straight for your arm.

"Dave!" you exclaimed, trying to step back, but it was already too late.

His fingers left a streak of green paint across the light fabric of your shirt, staining it mercilessly. You froze, staring at the mark with a skeptical expression, then at him, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his mischievous grin.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, disbelief dripping from your voice. "I loved this shirt."

"Oops," he replied, with the most insincere tone of regret you’d ever heard, raising his hands in a gesture that didn’t convince anyone. "But hey, I think green suits you, too."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "Are you serious, Dave?"

Before he could answer, a nearby upperclassman noticed what had happened and raised their voice, laughing. "Hey, everyone! Looks like we’ve got a bold one here!"

That was enough to grab the attention of all the other upperclassmen around. In seconds, it seemed like everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at Dave, who now seemed a little less confident—but surprisingly, no less amused.

"Retaliation, huh?" someone shouted, already starting to fill a bucket with a deadly mix of paints. "This won’t go unpunished!"

You took a step back, watching the scene unfold. Dave opened his mouth to protest but didn’t have time. The first splash of paint came from the left, hitting him square on the shoulder. Then, it was as if the heavens had opened, but instead of rain, there were buckets, bottles, and tubes of paint being thrown at him from every direction. Red, blue, yellow, pink, green, purple—a whirlwind of colors determined to turn him into a walking masterpiece.

You stood there with your arms crossed, watching as the upperclassmen laughed and shouted, the background music amplifying the chaos. Dave, however, seemed… completely unfazed. He raised his hands in surrender, but the grin was still there—a wide, bright smile as if he was having way too much fun.

When an entire bucket of blue paint was dumped straight over his head, he shook his hair, sending splatters everywhere—including onto you. "Seriously, Dave?!" you complained, but the laughter in your voice betrayed the fact that you weren’t really upset.

He wiped the excess paint dripping down his forehead and looked at you through the chaos. His smile was different now, a little softer but just as captivating as before. "Worth it," he said simply, as if the storm of paint had been a small price to pay.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that slipped through. "You’re impossible."

He shrugged, finally extending his hands to the sides, as if accepting defeat with dignity. "Maybe. But at least I’m not the only one covered in paint now."

The group, a walking rainbow, finally reached the other building, still laughing and making comments about their utterly destroyed—but hilarious—appearances. Clothes that had once been normal were now completely unrecognizable, and many people’s hair dripped paint like oversized brushes. You couldn’t help but laugh as you noticed how Dave seemed to lead the pack of the most wrecked ones, completely covered from head to toe.

"I look like an exploded paint can," someone commented, eliciting even more laughter from the group.

The upperclassmen began organizing everyone for a group photo. "Come on, everyone! I want to see everyone squeezed in here!" one of them shouted, waving a red paint tube like a microphone.

Dave laughed beside you, leaning in to whisper, "I think there’s still time to escape."

"You’re the last person who can say that," you shot back, glancing sideways at him. He was drenched in paint, but his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, and something about the way he smiled made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable—but addicting—way.

The freshmen started lining up, bumping into each other and trying to find space in the tight group. You ended up being pushed to the front, practically pressed against Dave as he positioned himself behind you. "Looks like this is going to be pretty snug," he remarked.

"That’s the spirit of teamwork," you replied, trying to maintain your composure, though you were very aware of how close he was.

"Teamwork, huh?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

Just as the photographer positioned themselves, you felt movement right behind you, and before you could process it, Dave’s arm slid around your waist. It was a gentle touch, almost casual, but the way he did it—firm yet hesitant, as if waiting for your reaction—made your heart race.

You looked at him, surprised. “Dave…” you began, but your voice got lost amidst the chaos around you. He looked back at you, the smile still on his face, but now there was something different—an intensity in his eyes, a glimmer that seemed to say more than any words could.

“Just to make room for everyone,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. You weren’t sure if it was because of the noise or the way he seemed to look directly at you, ignoring the rest of the world entirely.

You tried to think of anything relevant to say, but your mind was a complete blur, the words tangling together as he stayed so close. The touch of his arm around your waist was a constant reminder, a warm pressure that sent shivers through your skin, even under the layer of paint covering you both.

Someone shouted, “Smile!” and you forced a grin for the camera, even though your thoughts were far from where they should be. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dave lean slightly forward, and his closeness was overwhelming. He smelled faintly of paint mixed with something uniquely him, and it was ridiculous that you were noticing that at such a moment.

When the photo was finally taken, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Dave, still with his arm around your waist, looked at you with a satisfied smile. “I think this will be a photo to remember,” he said, his voice low, and the way he looked at you almost made your knees buckle.

“I hope you’re right,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the weakness in your voice gave everything away.

As the photo group began to break apart, the laughter faded. A few freshmen tried unsuccessfully to scrub the paint out of their hair and clothes, while others seemed resigned to heading home in their messy state. You watched the scene unfold, the sound of footsteps and chatter echoing through the space. The energetic buzz of the event still lingered, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

Dave stood near you, a mix of tiredness and contentment on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, now stiff from the paint, and let out a soft laugh. “I think it’s going to take me two weeks in the shower to get all of this off.”

You laughed, reaching for your bag and unzipping it. “I think you’ll need more than that. But luckily, I came prepared.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as you pulled out a small packet of wet wipes. “It’s not going to fix this entire disaster,” you said, holding it up for him, “but it’ll help with the basics. Here.”

He looked at you, his smile widening. “Are you always this prepared, or is this just for me?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re full of jokes today, huh?”

He chuckled but didn’t take the wipes from your hand. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if challenging you. “So, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there holding that?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing at the way he was looking at you—direct, playful, but with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Fine, but stay still and cooperate.”

He took a small step closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. Dave lowered his head slightly, making it easier for you to reach his face. Your hands were steady as you pulled out a wipe, but the same couldn’t be said for your heartbeat, which pounded wildly as you leaned in.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but soon you were carefully wiping away the streaks of paint from his forehead. His skin was warm under the wipe, and you could feel every tiny movement as he stayed still, his eyes fixed on you.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“No,” he replied, his tone rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

You tried to ignore the weight of his words, but it was impossible. Each second seemed to stretch the space between you. Your fingers, holding the wipe, brushed lightly against the side of his face, and he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.

His eyes never left yours, and there was something about the vibrant blue that made you feel lost, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You’re all cleaned up now,” you murmured, but you didn’t step away.

“Am I?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew more than he was letting on. “Because I think there’s a spot here…” He pointed to his cheek, though it felt more like an excuse to keep you close.

You laughed softly but obliged, wiping the spot he indicated. “There. Happy?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when you finally found the courage to look at him again, the smile had disappeared, replaced by something deeper. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was filled with everything that wasn’t being said.

His hand rose for a moment, almost as if it were going to touch yours, but then stopped halfway, falling back to his side. “I am. Quite a bit.”

You felt the weight of his words, the raw honesty hanging in the air like a thick, tangible cloud. That I am seemed to hold more than he was willing to say out loud. His breath was heavy, not from the physical effort of the day, but from the tension that seemed to pulse between you like a rope about to snap.

Without thinking much, as if your fingers had a life of their own, you brought a hand to his face again. His hair was messy and still wet with paint, some strands stuck to his forehead, others falling to the side, blocking your view of his eyes. “Stay still,” you murmured, almost apologetically, as you brushed the wet strands back carefully.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the simple touch of your fingers was enough to disarm him. When he opened his eyes again, there was something different in them, something more intense, more vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, and before you could hesitate, you began to clean the paint still staining his jawline, your fingers gliding along the strong line of his jaw. The texture of his skin under the wet wipe, warm and slightly rough, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t control.

“Do you have any idea how much you got dirty today?” you tried to say, but your voice came out weaker than you intended.

“Maybe,” he replied, and the hoarseness in his voice made you feel the impact in your chest, like a muffled thunder. “But you seemed to be having fun.”

You chuckled softly, trying to relieve the growing tension, but it was a useless effort. Your fingers slid from his jaw to near his lips, and you hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently passing the wipe over the corner of his lips.

His eyes followed every movement of yours, and when you looked back, his gaze seemed to beg for something he didn’t have the courage to ask for. His mouth was slightly open, and his breath brushed against your fingers so tangibly that you almost felt the heat on your own skin.

“All done,” you said, but your voice sounded different now, as if it carried everything you didn’t want to admit.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured, and the smile that played on his lips was as soft as it was dangerous.

“I am,” you replied, but your hand didn’t move. It was still there, dangerously close to his mouth, as if it were impossible to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he teased, his tone barely audible, and you knew he wasn’t talking about the paint anymore.

The silence that followed was deafening. The proximity between you was almost painful now, each inch filled with electricity that had your whole body on high alert. His eyes dropped for a moment to your mouth, and when they returned to yours, there was something there that made your heart beat so fast you thought he could hear it.

Your hand, still near his mouth, wavered for a second, and it was all he needed to take a step forward, closing the distance between you even more. His breath mixed with yours, and you knew, you knew you were on the edge of completely losing yourselves.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice a little firmer now, but still low enough for only you to hear. “And I’m tired of pretending I can.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with raw honesty that seemed to steal all the air around you. Your throat went dry, and you could feel the conflict building inside you, fighting against what already seemed inevitable.

He was younger. A freshman. And you knew you should have some sense here, some logic screaming for you to pull back, to remember the differences, the line that separated you two. But your hands were still on him, your fingers still brushing the paint-stained skin of his warm face, and you just couldn’t let go.

“Dave…” Your voice came out in a trembling whisper, carrying all that you were trying to hold back — the hesitation, the disbelief, and above all, the desire you had been trying to bury since the moment he looked at you that way, completely enchanted, for the first time.

He leaned in imperceptibly closer, his eyebrows furrowed, the intensity in his blue gaze fixed on you. “Tell me what’s holding you back,” he asked, almost pleading, but his tone was still soft, patient, as if he was trying to find his way to you.

You opened your mouth, but the words seemed to dissolve before you could even form a sentence. He waited, his proximity a temptation, and you felt as if you were being pulled toward him, against all the logic you thought you had.

“You’re…” you started, but hesitated, then took a deep breath. “You’re younger. A freshman. That…”

He laughed, low and hoarse, and shook his head slightly. "You think that matters to me?" He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with the intensity of his gaze. "I don’t care if you're older. Do you think when I look at you, that’s what I see? Because I don’t. I only see you. You, with that habit of looking at me like you’re trying to push me away, but you can’t."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He looked so vulnerable and so certain at the same time, and that made something inside you tremble.

"I don’t know if I can do this..." you murmured, the hesitation weighing heavily in each word.

"I know you can," he shot back, his voice firmer now, but still low, almost reverent. "Because if you didn’t want to, you would have already walked away. And you’re still here."

His words hit you like a punch, because he was right. You were still here. Your hands were still on him, and the closeness between you was so small that any movement could close it.

His fingers slowly moved until they lightly brushed your wrist. It was such a subtle touch, but it electrified everything around you, as if the world had stopped to observe that moment.

"Tell me you don’t want this," he said, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder would be dangerous. "Tell me you don’t feel this too, and I’ll stop now."

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t pull your hands away, couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you, as if you were something he didn’t know he needed until the moment he saw you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Dave," you murmured, but your voice came out weak, with no conviction.

"I know exactly what I’m asking," he retorted, his eyes fixed on yours, as if each word was a promise. "I’m asking for you. And I know you’re trying to find a reason for this not to happen, but there isn’t one."

And in that moment, you knew he was right. That it didn’t matter the logic, or the differences, or the doubts you were trying to hold on to. He was here, and you wanted him. God, how you wanted him.

Your gaze fell to his lips, then rose back to his eyes. He was so close that you could feel his breath, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression, so open, so surrendered, that you simply couldn’t hold back.

Without thinking any further, you closed the distance between you, your hands moving to his face as your lips met his. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting for this since the moment he saw you. And maybe he had. Maybe you had too.

His lips were warm against yours, firm yet hesitant, as if he feared that it could all disappear in the blink of an eye. You felt his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressed to yours in a way that made the whole world disappear.

His touch was both reverent and desperate, as if he didn’t know if it was real, but was determined to imprint every detail in his memory. His hands slid over the curve of your back, stopping at the base of your waist, before moving up again, his fingers brushing the exposed skin that the light fabric of your blouse didn’t protect. It was electrifying, each touch, each movement, and you felt your heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in every cell of your body.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours as if searching for some kind of certainty. "Is this... real?" he murmured, his voice hoarse, cut off. He seemed lost, his blue eyes shining amidst the remnants of lilac and green paint on his face, as if you were the only thing he could see.

You laughed softly, breathless, but didn’t pull away an inch. "Yes," you answered, your voice soft but full of something you couldn’t hide anymore. "It’s real, Dave."

He let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief, and then his lips were on yours again, this time more certain, hungrier. His hands moved up to your shoulders, then slowly slid down your arms, his fingers tracing the path as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve, every inch of skin.

"You have no idea..." he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your face. He stopped, just enough to find your eyes again. "How much I’ve dreamed of this. Of you."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, and something inside you broke and rebuilt itself all at once. "Dave..." you started, but he shook his head, interrupting.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I need you to know. From the first day. From the moment you spoke to me, from the moment you smiled at me… I knew. I knew it was you.”

Your breath faltered, and you felt his hands rise again, this time stopping at the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw until they brushed the corner of your lips. He seemed so sure, so lost in you, and at the same time so fragile, as if this moment could be taken from him at any second.

“Dave…” you repeated, his name coming out as a whisper, almost a secret. You held his wrists, your fingers gently tightening against his skin. “You have no idea…”

“Tell me,” he insisted, his voice still hoarse, but laden with something so raw, so real, that it made the air around you feel heavier.

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “That I thought about it too. That I wanted this too. You. From the beginning.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he let out a short laugh, almost disbelieving, as he pressed his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he needed that instant to collect himself, then whispered, “You’re messing with me, right?”

“You think I’d do that now?” you replied, the teasing in your voice mixed with the weight of the truth.

He opened his eyes, and there was something almost glowing in them, something that made you lose yourself completely. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured before pulling you in again, the kiss more intense, more urgent this time.

His hands slid down your back, tracing the curve of your hips before stopping at their base, as if he needed to hold you there, as if he feared you might slip away. You pressed even closer to him, feeling his heat, the smell of paint mixed with his scent, and nothing had ever felt so right.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he gave a small smile, his lips still red from the kiss. “So… is this it?” he asked, his voice soft but playful. “Can I stop torturing myself now?”

You laughed, your fingers still tangled in his shirt, and shook your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I like seeing you like this,” you replied, the teasing clear, but your eyes still filled with everything you were feeling.

He tilted his head to the side, a crooked, utterly charming smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “If that means I can kiss you again, then torture me as much as you want.”

You laughed, short, still breathless, and pushed lightly against his chest, but not enough to create any real distance. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, and it was impossible to ignore the streaks of paint he’d left there—a deep blue staining the pale pink of your blouse. His fingers had drawn an impromptu map on your skin and the fabric, and you knew that, even without a mirror, it was visible.

“Look at what you’ve done,” you commented, trying to sound indignant as you looked down at your blouse, but it was impossible not to smile. “My blouse is ruined.”

Dave laughed softly, his thumbs sliding along the curve of your waist before tracing their way back, as if he wanted to emphasize the mess. “You should’ve walked away while you could.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you would’ve let me go, right?”

He smiled wider now, his face still covered in paint, but somehow it only made him more irresistible. “Not for a second,” he confessed, with a tone that was both light and serious, like everything he did.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the laugh, even as you tugged at the fabric of your blouse to examine the stains more closely. “And what do I do with this now? This is beyond saving, you know?”

Dave let out a dramatic sigh, pulling away just enough to look at you properly, but his hands remained firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t help it. “Okay, I’ll admit it was a fashion crime,” he began, his eyes dropping to the stained fabric before rising back to your face. He looked so carefree and yet so intensely focused on you at the same time, it was almost unsettling. “But, look, you could… I don’t know, keep it as a keepsake.”

You raised an eyebrow again, his mischievous look signaling he had more to say. “A keepsake?”

“Yeah,” he continued, his smile growing. He raised one of his hands, covered in paint, and his thumb lightly brushed against the strap of your blouse, where a small paint stain was already printed. The touch was casual, but you felt a shiver run through you as if he had done it on purpose. “Every time you look at it, you’ll remember today. Me.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but it was impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, sure, because I’d want a ruined blouse to remember you by,” you teased, but your voice came out quieter than expected.

He tilted his face a little closer, his fingers still idly playing with the strap of your blouse, as if he were testing his own limits. “You will,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but with that sweet tone that made your heart race. “Because I know you won’t forget me, with or without the blouse.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to hide the effect his words had on you, but it was useless. “You’re really confident for a guy who’s covered in paint,” you commented, pointing to his face.

Dave laughed again, tilting his head to the side as he ran one hand across his own face, spreading even more paint without realizing. “Oh, seriously?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And who was it that left me like this, huh?”

“You weren’t exactly trying to avoid it,” you replied, crossing your arms, but it was impossible to keep up the defensive posture with him so close, so absurdly adorable.

He took a step back, pretending to examine himself, before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, it’s pretty bad,” he admitted, pointing to the stains on his face, neck, and arms. But then he looked at you, a mischievous smile returning to his lips. “But, you know what? Totally worth it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed any attempt to seem serious. “Really worth it?”

“Totally,” he said, giving that half-smile that seemed dangerous and irresistible at the same time. He took a step forward again, closing the distance, tilting his face until it was only inches from yours. “Wanna know why?”

You barely had time to respond before he continued, his voice low and heavy with something that made your breath falter. “Because now, I know what it’s like to kiss you.”

And with that, he smiled, so completely satisfied, so completely in love, that it was impossible to say anything. And you knew he was right: you’d never forget this. Or him.

[katethetank]

The Dungeon - Chapter 19

Rating: 18+, minors gtfo Chapter Summary: The boys hit the club and Eddie looses his mind over Steve's outfit CW: Drinking, rough sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism kink? Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Rock Star Eddie, Counselor Steve, Eddie is gay, Steve is bi, slow burn, smut Word Count: 3,545

Chapter 18<<Masterlist>>Chapter 20

Eddie is going to have a heart attack. Either that or pass out from all the blood draining from his brain directly to his dick. He’s at Steve’s door, club-ready in his Father Figure shirt, skin tight leather pants, calf-high boots, a smokey eye moment, and hair tied up. He thought he’d knock his boyfriend’s socks off for once, but he’s the one who’s getting knocked off his ass.

Steve is just standing there like he hasn’t done a complete factory reset on Eddie’s brain. Hair messy, but in controlled way, where it looks like he’s been fucked six ways since Sunday. His cropped Daddy’s Boy t-shirt. Cute little sneakers with the bi flag colors. Mascara lengthening his already gorgeous eyelashes. Fucking lip gloss. And the smallest, tightest, cutoff jean shorts Eddie has ever seen in his life. They leave nothing to the imagination. Literally. You can tell Steve is circumcised, they're so tight. 

“God DAMN Steve, how fucking dare you. My dick is hard already and we haven’t even left yet.” It’s not a lie. He started filling out the second Steve opened the door. His boyfriend looks down and smirks, the cocky asshole.

“I can see that. It’s gonna be a long night, huh?” Steve fucking winks at him. God he’s so in love with this little minx. “Let me just get my door key, I don’t exactly have room in these pockets for much else.” 

Steve turns to the little table by the door to detach the key from his key ring and Eddie nearly cums in his pants. Those fucking shorts. They’re cut so high in the back that the bottom of Steve’s cheeks are exposed. In one swift movement, Eddie steps inside, slams the door shut, crowds him against the table, grabs two handfuls of that glorious ass and rasps in his ear, “You’re a little fucking tease, you know that princess? You’re not even wearing anything under here are you?”

Steve gasps and braces himself, throwing his hands up on the wall. “Fuck! Eddie!”

“Got this ass peeking out for everyone to see, huh?” he growls as he grinds his dick into Steve. “You know exactly what you’re doing don’t you, honey? Tryin’ to rile me up? Tryin’ to make me jealous? Everyone is gonna be drinking you in tonight, aren’t they, but who’s ass is this, baby? Who does it belong to?” he grits through his teeth. He’s never been this possessive, but seeing his boyfriend’s body like this, barely covered and about to be displayed for any other man to see, has him going absolutely fucking feral.

“Yours! It’s yours Eddie!” 

Eddie tisks in his ear and grips his ass harder. “Try. Again.”

“Daddy! It’s all yours, daddy!”

Eddie hums his approval. “That’s right baby boy. Mine. Now here’s how tonight is gonna go. We’re going to the club. You’re gonna dance for me. Only me. You get two drinks, no more. I want you clear-headed when we leave there. And when I bring you home, I’m gonna fucking wreck you. Color?”

Steve moans and throws his head back. “Fuck! Green, daddy! Holy shit!”

“Good boy.” Eddie smirks at the whine that leaves his boyfriends glossed lips. “Now give me your keys. I have pockets that are actually fucking useful.”

Steve grabs his keys and passes them to Eddie over his shoulder. Eddie slips them into his pocket, gives Steve’s ass a little slap and takes a step back. Steve slumps and catches himself on the table. After a few breaths, he turns around to face Eddie and his eyes are low lidded and glassy. 

Eddie gets back in his space, wrapping an arm around his waist and tipping his chin up. He places a soft kiss on Steve’s lips and asks, “You a little floaty honey? You love this, don't you?” Steve nods his head and Eddie caresses his cheek. “You ok to head out baby, or do you need a minute?”

“I’m ok. Kiss first?”

“Of course princess.” He kisses him slowly, sucks on his bottom lip, and gives it a little nibble. That gloss tastes like strawberries, and Steve is putty in his hands. He gets him out the door and loaded into his car, and they head over to the club to meet the girls.

By the time they arrive, their dicks have calmed down and Steve seems like he’s fully back in his brain. Hand in hand, they enter the club and it’s an immediate assault on the senses. Strobing lights, thumping beats, air thick with the heat of countless bodies. He spots the girls at the bar and they make their way over, Eddie with his hand possessively planted on Steve’s lower back.

“Steve! Jesus Christ, you busted out the Fuck Me shorts? You realize you don’t have to work so hard for it now, right?” Robin shouts over the music. Of course they’re called Fuck Me shorts, no wonder Steve had no problems meeting people.

Steve laughs and shouts back, “You just wish your ass could fill them out like mine!”

“Hey,” Chrissy pipes in, “Shut your glossy mouth Steve, she’s got a great ass!”

Eddie shakes his head at these goons and throws his credit card down on the bar. “Alright bitches, drinks are on me tonight!” The bartender sashays over, takes the card, and their drink orders. Eddie makes eye contact with Steve as he’s passed his drink and just holds up two fingers. Steve nods back and winks.

After shouting at each other some more and finishing their drinks, they all make their way to the dance floor. The girls are immediately on each other, Chrissy getting her hands on Robin’s hips, and Robin wrapping hers around Chrissy’s neck. They look good together, Eddie’s gotta admit.

His siren of a boyfriend starts swaying his hips, running his hands through his hair, licking his lips and staring right into his eyes. You’re gonna dance for me. Only me.  God, he’s such a good boy isn't he? Eddie hooks a finger into the waistband of those nonexistent shorts and pulls him into a filthy grind. 

He gets his hands on Steve’s hips and a thigh between his legs. Steve throws one arm over Eddie’s shoulder and his other hand moves to his abs. They sway and grind to the beat while Steve snakes that hand up Eddie’s torso, under his crop top, and moves for the barbell in his nipple. Steve grins at him as he rolls it under his thumb. Fucking hell it feels good.

Steve leans in and says in Eddie’s ear, “You look so fucking good baby. Everyone is watching you.” Eddie glances at the bodies moving around them. A lot of eyes seem to be on them, but he knows better. They’re watching Steve. 

Eddie leans into Steve and tells him, “It’s cute you think they’re looking at me, angel. All eyes are on you. Shaking that ass around, showing it off like a trophy. They’re looking at you, but they wish they were me.” His hands slide from Steve’s hips down to the skin he’s flashing to the whole fucking club. His fingers run along the crease where his ass meets his thighs as he looks around watching the hungry eyes follow the movement. He feels like a god.

Steve wraps his arms around his shoulders and Eddie can feel the heat of his tongue as it licks a line up his neck. He bites Eddie’s earlobe and grinds even harder. “I don’t want any of them,” he tells Eddie. “Just want you.”

Eddie is one more grind away from dragging Steve to the bathroom and fucking him in the stall. But his boy deserves better than that. He spins him around and pulls him flush to his body. Hands on that slutty little waist covered in a light sheen of sweat. Steve puts his hands on top of Eddie’s and laces their fingers together. Their hips continue to sway to the beat and Steve tips his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and closes his eyes, the long line of his neck looking so fucking edible. He resists sinking his teeth in and just drags his lips up and down the delicate flesh.

Time disappears as they move together, one song bleeding into the next. Men all around them eyeing them from head to toe. No doubt Steve has been sporting a visible hard-on at least half the time. Eddie sure as fuck has been. 

The song they’re dancing to ends and the DJ grabs the microphone. “Welcome, welcome, welcome to all the girls, the gays, and the theys! We don’t normally do dedications, but we just couldn’t say no to this one. We’re gonna slow things down and throw it back with this next song. It’s dedicated to the absolutely stunning Father Figure and his gorgeous boy, from their favorite lesbians!”

Steve spins to face Eddie, looking at him with that what the fuck face and they both turn at look to where they last saw the girls. Robin and Chrissy are nearby, arms wrapped around each other and shit eating grins on their faces. They both blow them kisses as a slow beat starts up. Cheers and wolf whistles surround them. Eddie looks at his boyfriend and they both crack up, wrapping their arms around each other. They start swaying along to the song as George Michael’s vocals fill the room.

That's all I wanted

Something special, something sacred

In your eyes

For just one moment

To be bold and naked

At your side

Steve’s hands move up to Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s arm curls around Steve’s waist and his other hand wraps around his hips and slides down to cup his ass. He rests his forehead on Steve’s. Rocks him back and forth and just breathes him in.

This time I think that my lover

Understands me

If we have faith in each other

Then we can be

Strong, baby

Eddie lifts his head and looks his boy in the eyes. He’s so beautiful. 

I will be your father figure

Put your tiny hand in mine 

I will be your preacher teacher

Anything you have in mind 

Steve is looking at him so intensely. Moving his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. Eddie wants to tell him. He can’t do it here, it’s not the right time, not the right place. The way Steve is looking at him though…

I will be your father figure

I have had enough of crime

I will be the one who loves you

'Til the end of time

They crush their mouths together, tongues diving deep, hands grasping, hips grinding. Eddie’s never been so desperate to get inside someone before. He’s gotta get his boy home immediately. He gives one last bite to Steve’s lip and pulls back. “Do you wanna-“

“Yes!”

Steve grabs his hand and starts to drag him out of the club. He looks over his shoulder to try to signal the girls, but it looks like they’re trying to climb into each other’s mouths. Good for them. He shoots Chrissy a quick text telling her to close his tab for him. He’ll get his card from her tomorrow.

Eddie rushes them back to Steve’s apartment, and hauls him to the bedroom. “Goddamn baby, do you have any idea how good you looked out there?” Eddie asks as he strips off Steve’s shirt. He spins him around and pushes him onto the mattress. That fucking ass of his, Jesus Christ. “Fucking hell, look at you. Every set of eyes out there tonight were glued to you, baby boy.” He runs his hands up the back of Steve’s thighs. “Watching you move. Watching the sweat drip down your skin. Watching you rut against my thigh like a desperate slut.” Steve whimpers into the sheets. Clouded by his own lust, he slipped and forgot that his boy prefers praise. “Color, angel?”

“Green?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Steve turns his head to look at Eddie. “Not a slut…your slut.”

Jesus fucking Christ, he stands corrected. “That’s right baby. Thank you for using your words. My slut. This body is just for me, isn’t it?”

Steve nods and turns back into the mattress. “All for you, Eds.” He’s got his fists balled in the sheets and looks like it’s taking every ounce of effort to not hump the bed.

Eddie’s thumbs swipe across that crease under his ass and he hums. “You were giving them all a show out there, weren’t you? I saw them, honey. They couldn’t take their eyes off of you. Off this ass.” He leans down and drags his tongue across the bottom of a cheek. “Do you know how crazy that made me? I wanted to bend you over right on that dance floor and fuck you stupid. Right in front of them. Show them that this ass, this hole, you…belong to me.”

Steve is gasping for breath and Eddie can see his eyes getting glassy. He’s gorgeous. Eddie hauls Steve up so he’s on his knees. His hands reach around and grope at the hard cock constrained in that small amount of denim. “You been hard like this all night, honey?”

His boy nods and weakly replies, “Yes daddy.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Eddie tuts. “Let daddy take care of you.” He pops the button and lowers the zipper, Steve’s cock immediately springing out. It’s flushed dark pink and looks downright painful, like he’s been edging himself since Eddie picked him up. “All fours baby.” Steve obediently lowers himself to his hands and knees like a fucking dream. “Color?”

“So fucking green.”

Eddie grins. He can’t wait to fuck Steve like this. He grabs the top of those slutty little shorts and treats himself to a slow reveal of what he’s been craving all night. All the breath leaves his lungs when he sees a plug nestled in Steve’s hole.

“Jesus Christ Stevie, you had this in all night? Just knew you were gonna get fucked, didn’t you?” He presses on the base of the plug and Steve moans like a slut. “You just need to be filled, don’t you? Let’s get you something better then, shall we?” He carefully removes the plug and sets it aside. It was fucking big. No wonder Steve was hard all night.

He tests his boyfriend with a finger and it slips right in with no resistance. It’s so fucking wet in there too. He must have used a lot of lube. “Mmm, you’re so wet baby. Won’t even need to use any more lube, will I? You’re so loose and dripping I could just slide right in, huh?”

Steve drops down to his elbows and arches his back. “Fuck, baby please! I’ve been ready all night! Please just give it to me!”

Without a word, Eddie whips off his belt, unfastens his leather pants that are choking the hell out of his dick, and shoves them down just past his balls. He grabs Steve’s hip with one hand and his dick with the other and lines himself up. “You want this, baby? Want me to wreck this ass?”

“Green!”

Eddie pushes forward and sinks all the way into the tight clutch of Steve’s body. A ragged moan escapes him as he bottoms out. Steve is gasping for breath and grappling at the sheets. He holds still for a moment, allowing Steve to adjust while also trying to not blow his load immediately. 

When he feels Steve start to relax, he pulls out halfway and rocks his hips back in. It’s fucking bliss. He sets a steady pace, both hands planted on Steve’s hips while he fucks him deep. His baby is groaning and rocking his hips back to meet Eddie’s thrusts. 

“Stevie, baby, been wanting to do this since you opened the door tonight. Does daddy’s boy want it harder? Ready for me to pound that tight little hole?”

“Yes! Please fuck me harder daddy!” Steve’s elbows give out and he lays his chest on the bed, deepening the arch of his back. This gorgeous stretch of skin speckled in constellations. 

Eddie grips his hips tight enough to bruise and starts to fuck Steve like his life depends on it. Deep and hard and fast, he pumps into his boy’s pliant body and takes a moment to appreciate that ass bouncing with every thrust of his hips. “God, you feel so good, angel. Taking my cock so deep. So fucking tight.”

He’s not sure if Steve can even speak at this point. He’s all grunts and moans and whimpers.  Eddie braces a knee up on the bed - Jesus, he’s still fully fucking clothed - and slides his hand over the plane of Steve’s back, grazing over all those stars. His hand rests on the back of his boy’s neck and the change in angle must have his piercings grinding over Steve’s prostate because the boy wails.

“Fucking Christ Stevie! Wanna pin you down and fuck you full. Plug you back up and keep it all in.” 

Steve squeaks out a barely audible, “Green.” But Eddie’s ears are fine tuned for that shit. He presses down on the back of Steve’s neck and absolutely hammers away.

Eddie’s so fucking close, it’s taking everything in him to keep from blowing too soon. His baby’s needs always come first. “Want you to cum, honey. Get your hand down there and play with that pretty cock for me.” 

Steve’s grip loosens on the sheets and he snakes his hand down between his legs. He lets out a needy little noise and he starts to jerk himself off. 

“That’s it baby. Such a good little slut for me.”

Like a hair fucking trigger, that sets Steve off. His screams are muffled in the mattress as he paints the sheets with his cum. He’s clenching down so hard on Eddie’s dick that he can’t hold back anymore. He thrusts in one final time as his orgasm hits him, and unloads deep into Steve’s ass with a groan.

As he catches his breath, Eddie kisses Steve’s back and rights himself. He looks over and spots the plug lying on the bed next to them. With a grin, he reaches over and grabs it. “You did so good baby boy. Now daddy’s gonna plug you up and keep all that inside, ok?”

Steve shivers and whispers, “Ok daddy.” Such a good boy, fucking hell.

Eddie slowly pulls out and replaces his cock with the plug, nestling it in Steve’s loosened hole. This has got to be the hottest fucking thing he’s ever experienced. It feels like ownership. This gorgeous boy is all his.

He carefully turns Steve over to lay on his back, avoiding the wet spots on the sheets, and works his tiny little shorts off his legs. Steve’s face is the picture of bliss. Closed eyes, relaxed features, small smile, and the mascara smudged around his eyes tells Eddie that he fucked his boy so good he cried. He mentally pats himself on the back for that one.

Eddie quickly moves to the bathroom and wets a washcloth, wipes himself down, and runs another one under the warm water. He comes back to the bedroom and gently cleans the mascara from around Steve’s eyes before cleaning up the rest of him. He scoots Steve up to the pillows, finally strips off his own clothes and crawls into bed. He pulls Steve in close and they wrap their arms around each other. His baby is still coming down, and he scratches at his scalp and whispers sweet words to him while he waits. 

Eventually Steve opens his eyes and looks up at Eddie. “Hi baby.”

Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Hi sweetheart. You feeling ok?”

Steve nuzzles into Eddie’s chest. “Mmm hmm. Feel amazing. That was so good.”

Goddamn right it was. “You looked so fucking hot tonight, Stevie. Made me fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, that was insane, baby. What got into you?”

Eddie heaves a sigh. “I don’t know. I mean, obviously when you’re teasing me with those shorts that could double as a postage stamp, I’m gonna want to tear you apart. But something about other people seeing you like that. Watching you. Wanting you. I got so fucking possessive, but part of me wanted them to see you. It’s probably fucked up, but I kinda wanted to strip you bare right in front of them. Show them your beautiful body, touch you all over, let them see what they can’t have. God, that’s so fucked isn’t it? I should shut up.”

Steve props himself up on an elbow to look at Eddie head-on. “Maybe it’s a little fucked up, but that’s desire, right? I love that you feel that way about me, and maybe that’s fucked up too. Thinking about you putting your hands on me like that for other people to see? Showing them I’m yours? It’s kinda hot.”

Eddie pulls him in for a filthy kiss. “Fuck Stevie. We might have a little exhibitionism kink here, huh?” 

Steve’s cheeks turn a little pink and leans in and whispers against Eddie’s lips, “If anyone can bring that out in me, it’s you.”

Now wouldn’t that be something?

Chapter 18<<Masterlist>>Chapter 20

*********************************************

Taglist is open! 2025 is the year where we stop being shy about commenting on and reblogging smut! Weeee!

@annachronisme @mrsjellymunson @kozuuji @themoonagainstmers

[dokidokidraft]

Sub JJK Men Hcs

A/n: Im sry about kinktober guys, hcs are just easier to write rn. Plus, I’ve had this in my drafts for a while.(since August…)

⇨Masterlist⇦

Warnings: smut, nsfw, the title says it all. Dom!afab!reader, no pronouns used tho, sub jjk men (separate), overstimulation, edging, dracryphilia, brat taming, bondage/gagging, pegging, and gun play in Toji’s

Includes: Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

More in part two, I promise. Request specific characters if you’d like!

꧁Satoru Gojo꧂

This man has 2 moods

#1 is whiny, obedient sub who’s kinda desperate. This only happens when he’s had a tough day at work and need to cool down a little.

#2 is his most common, the brat. Disobedient, cocky, and his ego goes through the roof. Tries to take charge most of the time.

He's super into overstimulation, whether he’s a crying, begging mess, or you need to brat tame him a bit.

The punishment that best works for him is the chastity cage. The pain turns pleasurable for him, but your always so cruel and hide the key. The longest he’s gone is 4 days, before he was begging (full on his knees, tears in his eyes, hands together as if he was praying) for you to take it off.

One of the loudest men on this list. I’m talking moans, whimpers, grunts, whines, the whole damn package.

Even when he’s being bratty, and TRYING to block out the noise, he’s crying out your name like it’s the only word he knows.

Hates edging, so that’s also an optimal punishment for him. Being on the brink of orgasm, teetering off the edge, before you pull him back down to earth is probably the worst feeling ever. (maybe second to the chastity)

Doesn’t like getting spanked or anything like that, but do use his blindfold to tie his wrists to the bed frame, etc.

Super big praise kink, but degradation also makes him moan, even when he tried to convince himself he doesn’t like it.

But oh god, when you ride him. That’s what really gets him going, seeing you bounce on top of him, tits swaying enticingly in front of his face. that's his absolute favourite thing.

Heavy aftercare is needed with this guy. I’m talking bubble bath, chocolates, and at least half an hour of snuggling afterwards.

“I’m NOT begging for you to blow me. I’m the strongest, I don’t beg”

“God, woman! J-just let me cum already! I’ll even let you peg me again just don’t edge me anymore….ple-e-ease…”

꧁Geto Suguru꧂

Not on the bratty side, but not completely submissive either

As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

One of his biggest kinks is hair pulling, especially if he’s eating you out. Making eye contact and feeling the tug on his scalp while you force your cunt against his face is just heaven for him.

Also loves being edged. Unlike Satoru, he loves to feel the buzz when he gets denied, loves the feeling of you in control.

He doesn’t usually need to be punished, but on the odd occasion when he does, the best option is simply putting him on a sex ban. The chastity doesn’t really sit right with him, but not getting any pussy is definitely torture.

Like it when you tie him up, but make it overdramatic. Give him full-on jewelled handcuffs, and a bright red, shiny ball gag, with a side of fairy lights hung around the bed frame.

Whenever you gag him, he makes sure to be extra loud to entertain you. His muffled moans will be replaying in your head for days.

Speaking of which, you definitely get some noise complaints from the neighbours.

Would much rather be giving you oral, but once your tongue touches the too of his cock I can promise you he whimpers from the tiniest touch 🥺

He will buy a new bed, and make it fucking massive. He wants to try every single position possible, that’s a given.

Has a habit of biting the pillow to muffle his moans <3

“Tying me up again, huh? Don’t you ever get bored of it? Oh, did that earn me the gag yet?”

“Sex ban? You’re joking. You’re fucking joking. Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

꧁Toji Fushiguro꧂

Submissive? Not at all…until you ride him

He would sell his soul to have you go cowgirl on him for the first time again

Toji likes the chastity cage bc it’s like a challenge for him, seeing how long he can last

If you try to peg him I’d suggest like…writing your loved ones a note :)

Overstimulation is his JAM (for both of you) but it takes fucking forever for him to get a bit overstimulated, this man has a shot ton of stamina.

When you convince him to sub, he can go all night. He’ll just be lazy and take it, whatever you give him, with lots of suggestive comments along the way

Giving him a blow job is the best way to relax him, especially if you have your nails done and use your hand at the base <3

He may or may not secretly love when you step on him, it gets him going like crazy

Hold him at gunpoint and he will be hard as a rock. He taught his girl well, and loves the thought of her overpowering him like that

Car sex. That’s it.

When you guys get really into it his hair will fall in front of his face, and if you gently brush it out of the way he falls in love all over again.

“Wanna suck on it, doll? I promise I won’t force it down your throat like last time, take your time.”

“I heard pineapple makes your cum taste sweet. Think we should try it? I’ll be the lovely taste tester if ya ride me afterwards.”

[princesscolumbia]

As a writer (and, IMHO, a damn good one if my work on Code of Ethics and my various fanfiction is anything to go by), I cannot emphasize enough that you need to read stuff outside your wheelhouse.

I am a massive nerd for the "complicated" story. Whether that's structurally complicated, a complicated plot, ethically/morally complicated, intellectually challenging, etc., the more complicated it is the more it's catnip to me. I love simple stories, too, don't get me wrong. (Last night I re-read for the umpteenth time All Eyes On Me by catrasredemption on AO3 and was smiling and giggling the whole time at the simple Useless Lesbian story arc where the only thing complicated about it was the question of why Adora adopted a dog named Princess instead of the dog named Swift Wind.) But a book like Big Trouble by Dave Barry where there's about a dozen characters (including a frog) who all seem to have their own, completely separate stories that should never intersect but suddenly all collide in the final chapters and manage to mesh to a degree you wouldn't have thought possible? Or I Me, My Strawberry Eggs where it starts out as a silly "cis het male teacher needs to crossdress to pay rent" but then dives straight into Dead Dove territory where there's ethical and morality issues and oh god you've been rooting for the "bad guy" the whole time and what do you mean this was made to highlight the Japanese 'Electra Complex' epidemic?! Or the high concept world of Trouble with Horns by QuietVallerie that starts out as a fun action-adventure LitRPG romp through the 'hatching' of a transgirl as she figures out who she is and gets to experience life as a woman but then you discover she's living in a cyberpunk dystopia as The Singularity is happening and the 'old guard' of the Patriot Church and the oligarchs are actively working to oppress the masses and the queers have to team up with the newly sentient A.I. to save each other? This is COMPLETELY my jam!

(And, as usual, all the disclaimers about things like Dead Dove fics being something I enjoy doesn't mean I think the ethically bad, or even questionable, things in said fics should happen IRL and in many cases should such things happen IRL that would be extremely bad indeed.)

(In other words, don't build the Torment Nexus. No, PUT THE HAMMER DOWN! The fic "Don't Build the Torment Nexus" is not a set of blueprints for building the Torment Nexus! I don't care how badly you want to fuck the Torment Nexus, don't build it!)

BUT, I have a girlfriend ( @thestargayzingetherian, if you're curious) who writes, for the most part, pure fluff. Just happy little stories that don't have major world or civilization or galaxy-wide consequences, just something cute and silly like someone catching a cold and trying to work through it in spite of their friends telling them not to or accidentally calling the nice older lady that took you under her wing 'mom' and being teased mercilessly for it. She does stretch her writing chops to write bigger stuff, but even the fics that are more sweeping and 'epic' in scope don't have the levels of out-and-out moral and ethical complexity that even my short stories have. And that's not only okay, that's a VERY GOOD THING. A world where every story was dazzlingly complex would create a barrier to entry to people who just cannot handle the challenge for whatever reason.

Just taking a look at the currently published work on my AO3 account:

Code of Ethics - We're living in the prequel right now! In order to get to the world where the MC lives in a Christofascist state and becomes a spook for the bad guys, America has to go through the terrible bits where we, as a people, put into power the horrible, toxic kingmakers that seek to oppress the masses and use the veneer of Christianity to do it (no matter how many time and how many ways people like me try to raise the red flags). Given that's the events we're living through right now, it's understandable that people might not want to turn off their doomscrolling just to read fiction that talks about the long-term consequences of the things they're dealing with IRL.

Half Moon - How do you even begin to talk about the complications of meeting yourself in another universe, let along in a short story where BOTH versions are an AU Gumbo of MULTIPLE properties, all of which you need at least a passing understanding of in order to not be sixteen forms of confused? Star Trek, Ranma 1/2, Sailor Moon, alternate timelines, queer themes, even if you know the character no you don't, and handwavium Treknobabble? Yeah, complicated.

Big Enough - Intentionally written to bury the lead until you've reached the last three paragraphs of the story, and what you discover about the characters and the world they're in completely changes everything you've read to that point. Not an exercise that even I want to have happen every time I read a story.

This Can NOT be An Equestrian Girl's Everyday Life in a World of Monster Girls! - This Too is Yuri, Monsterfucker Edition. Some people just don't want to read about characters in a polycule dealing with polycule things where at least one of them is an illegal alien being manipulated into it by a government agent. Oh, and the monsterfucking.

Anzhuoniichuan - "Oh, the old trope about 'what if Ranma fell into a different spring that waaaaaait a minute who's the alien?!" Just the additional random (and at the point of this post's writing, unexplained) vectors is enough to turn off people who just want to read another Ranmafic before they go to bed.

Double Isekai - Two (2) main characters who are the same character but fused with two other characters and ones the mom to the other and they're both from The Future™️ but not the actual future of that timeline and it's Gay and Yuri and welcome to the Polycule of Disaster Lesbians and Bisexuals. Any more complicated and you'd need a conspiracy board to keep track of it all.

And there's more! Those are just my most recent and I've been writing crazy complicated shit like this since I was 12. (No, you don't get to see that stuff, mostly because it was written on notebook paper and has been lost to history.) My Most Complicated Piece Ever™️isn't even on that list because I finished writing it before I posted all that stuff.

I have a point, I promise.

I have lost count of the times I have been stuck on writing something and had to set it aside for a bit, only to read a fluff fic or a short story or something so completely uncomplicated I figured the entire plot out from just the story description and reading said uncomplicated story was exactly what I needed to un-jam the mental clockwork that produces the stuff I write. I'll get the mental chaff cleared out or read something that inspires exactly the thought I needed to get the next sentence out that happens to be the 'clog cleaner' that gets the words flowing onto the page.

Even besides that, reading outside your normal wheelhouse means you'll get new perspectives, you'll see new ways of solving the problems of writing and new methods for handling the problems that you've already solved yourself. You'll find new jokes to put into your writing and encounter new characters that you'll later integrate into your own work with your own spin or take on that character. You'll encounter scenes that wouldn't ordinarily show up in your work that might be exactly the set piece you need later to put your characters in the right place and time to tie of a particular plot thread or bring everything together (or even, when the time is right, completely shatter everything you've built up to that point and require the characters adapt in ways they never would have had to before).

Get out of your rut and read other people's stuff!

...and if you're the kind of writer that doesn't normally dig into 'complicated' storylines, I might have a few titles to get you started. 😉

[fionatheicicle]

If you are writing a book and you are describing something that is all knowing, the word you need to use is omniscient, not omnipotent.

Omnipotent is all powerful

Omniscient is all knowing.

[jaybirdscoffee]

i think seeing a destiel meme about the election results tomorrow might actually send me over the edge

[semi-sketchy]

The Q&A of the Xenoblade 3 art book leaked and I am. Feeling something.

I think it's annoyance. I don't know if even Takahashi knows what he's cooking at this point.

[genderqueeradrien]

watching austin green's video about the wilbur + gnf allegations and he included clips from gnf's stream and not even fucking joking it is so reminiscent of my fucking title ix hearing. "at no point did i think she was uncomfortable" "im very cautious about consent" "i was shocked that she had such a different idea of what happened" "she said things that made me look bad like that she was frozen in place or that she was scared" "well she smiled at me so i didnt know she was uncomfortable" Like this is all shit that the person who assaulted me said either verbatim or very similarly. and they lost the case BTW they were found guity for everything and in the words of the lawyer -> "[they were] relying on [me] to say "no" rather than ensuring consent at the outset. Based on that alone I find that a reasonable person in [this person]'s position would not have understood they had obtained consent to this activity."

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My current laptop is a 2015 model and it’s saying I need to replace the battery (this would be the second or third time I think) and sometimes people are just like “keeping that thing going can end up being more expensive than just buying a new computer” but I’m ride or die with this thing. We’re together until god themself takes its life for the final time. I don’t care if its tenth birthday is coming up, we’re in this mess together, and even when I will one day be forced to get a new computer for outdated software reasons, I’m keeping this bitch until they pass on to computer heaven (because it’s been a good computer but my last personal one is in purgatory and my old highschool laptop is in hell) I used my 2014 (or was it 2014?) phone until the screen started to detach from the frame, don’t test me. I’m too stubborn and autistic.

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted.��

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rosariocontijeras]

I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I told you I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU

[jadedbirch]

Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:

- shorter time between periods

- irregular periods

- hot flashes and/or cold flashes

- fucked up sleep

- OMG NIGHT SWEATS

- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert

- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants

- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times

This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.

Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:

- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.

- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.

- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.

- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.

- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀

- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)

- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).

I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.

Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)

Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!

[your-internet-bf]

Awww, c'mon, man, you can tell me how big it is. Cmonnnnn, I'm curious! You're a good lookin guy, I'm sure you're packin some heat down there, right?

What's that? You don't... huh? What do you mean? Here, just let me...

Don't moan, man, don't gotta make this weird... Well damn. No, no, I'm not disappointed at all, it's just... Here. Feel this.

No, shh, just feel. When you reach between a man's legs, you should feel something like this. Yeah, there's a lot there haha, maybe not something quite like this... What's that? Can you see it? That's a little gay, dude... Naw, I'm joking. Here.

Ahaha, you should see your face, man. What, you thought just because it was that big it had to be hard already? Naww, look, you're cute and all but it takes a little more than - ohhh, shit. No, you're right, your hands probably won't fit. Yeah. Why don't you...

Ahhh, fuck. Quick to get on your knees, and christ, that feels good... Yeah, fuck, use your... Ugh, christ, I know you're choking, I'm just gonna use your throat for a minute. You look so fucking hot down there... C'mon, c'mon... Aha. A little too big for your throat, huh? That's alright. Lick your spit up off my cock, I've got something else for you to try.

Jesus, I can see how soaked you are through your clothes. Take those off, lemme get a look at you. God, you've got a great ass, you know that? Spread that shit for me, let me look... God, dude, you look tight. Let me just feel around here... Yeah, shit, can you spread a little more? I wanna really get a good look. Yeahhh, that's good, right there. Yeah, I'm gonna - aha, that was a cute sound. What happens if I - ahaaaa. That wasn't very manly of you. Okay, okay... On the bed.

Spread your fuckin legs, what do you think I'm about to do? No use in being shy now, I JUST felt how fuckin wet you are. If you're not gonna do it, I'm gonna have to make you... Yeah, alright, I've waited long enough. Oh don't gimme that, I know you want it. Look, when I lay it on your tummy... Almost to your belly button. Beg me to put it in. Yeah, man, seriously. Beg me for it. Like a slut. Use your big boy words and fucking beg me to take this fat fucking cock of mine and pound your cunt.

See, was that so hard? Good boy. Now, grab onto something, cuz this is gonna hurt.

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10