#I just now got the time to edit it on desktop

[sixeyesonathiel]

told the nerd to film it and he exported inside me instead!

pairing — tech nerd!gojo x fem reader

synopsis : you crushed on him for months, watched him dodge every advance like you were malware. so you dressed up a little, played a little dumber—and now he’s got you spread out in pixels and moaning in surround sound. worst part? you kinda want him to do it again.

tags/cw — masturbation, degradation, praise kink, dacryphilia, marking, overstimulation, explicit language, filming, voyeurism, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, rough sex, dirty talk, power dynamics, obsession, lingerie, virgin weeb satoru, questionable but effective way of seducing ur crush. 13k wc, 18+ only, minors DNI.

a/n : plz don't nitpick about how a fashion vlog shouldn't be like that bc that's the point. toru doesn't know the difference because all he watches is 2d girls

the compressor’s peaking again.

satoru squints at the waveform, drags the threshold down two decibels, then listens back to the same three-second clip of voiceover for the tenth time. it’s a podcast intro, some wannabe influencer droning about mindfulness. he doesn’t care. he’s just here to make it sound less like it was recorded in a bathroom.

“sounds like shit,” he mutters, even though it’s clean. crisp. perfectly balanced.

it doesn’t feel right. nothing ever does. he tweaks the bitrate, checks the export codec, wonders if he should build a custom ffmpeg preset. maybe write a quick script to batch clean all future files—something to shave off a few milliseconds of his life. his fingers hover over the keyboard, itching for efficiency, for control.

ping.

discord overlay glows in the corner of his ultrawide monitor, a neon-green intrusion on his meticulously organized desktop. he freezes. the notification pulses like a heartbeat.

you.

he stares at it, lets it sit there like it’s radioactive. doesn’t even remember keeping you added. your username—something stupid with a heart emoji—feels like a splinter under his skin. he should’ve purged his contacts months ago, but here you are, slipping through the cracks of his digital fortress.

hey. remember when u edited our project? can u help me trim some vids pls…

his jaw tightens. of course you’d ask now, at 2 a.m., when he’s neck-deep in audio plugins and caffeine. his fingers hover over the keyboard, poised to dismiss you.

“no,” he types, then erases it.

“what kind of vids,” he tries, but deletes that too. too eager. too curious.

after a solid twenty-five seconds of overthinking, he finally sends:

i guess. send what you have.

he leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. his room is a cave of glowing screens and scattered energy drink cans, the hum of his overclocked pc the only sound besides his own shallow breathing. he shouldn’t care. you’re just another art student, another distraction. but his pulse betrays him, thudding a little too hard in his throat.

flashback.exe

he hated group projects. despised them. a bunch of useless art students in overpriced streetwear, trying to make films with no understanding of pacing or continuity.

they’d fumble with premiere pro like it was rocket science, leaving him to clean up their shaky cuts and mismatched audio tracks. he always ended up doing 90% of the work, and he preferred it that way. control was his god, and he worshipped it.

but you were different.

not better. just... a different kind of stupid.

you showed up late to the editing suite, glitter pens spilling out of your bag, heart stickers plastered on your water bottle like a middle schooler’s diary. you called the lav mic a “weird nipple thing” and giggled when he glared at you. once, you spilled your lip gloss on the soundboard, leaving a sticky pink smear he had to scrub off with isopropyl alcohol. another time, you asked if uploading to drive made your data heavier, and he almost threw you out.

but.

you let him do whatever he wanted.

you didn’t hover or micromanage. you just sat there, cross-legged on a swivel chair, watching him cut scenes like it was magic. you leaned over his shoulder, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath, your wide eyes reflecting the glow of the timeline.

“whoa... you made it feel like a real movie,” you whispered, like he’d just parted the red sea.

you smelled like something artificial. strawberries, maybe, or some overpriced body mist from a mall kiosk. your hair was always tied with a ribbon—pink, blue, sometimes yellow, always obnoxiously bright.

he didn’t care.

he told himself he didn’t.

but he remembered. every fucking detail.

the zip file lands in his downloads with an obnoxious ka-chunk, snapping him out of the memory. he doesn’t rush. just opens it like it’s any other favor, like his heart isn’t clawing at his ribcage. the folder name stares back at him: “pls help <3”

typical.

he clicks it open, expecting shaky iphone clips of cafes and shopping hauls. maybe some cringe tiktok dance you think is cute. he’s ready to hate it, to scoff at your lack of framing or shitty lighting.

but then—

you appear on screen.

not just appear. you perform.

you’re biting your lip, laughing into the lens like it’s your lover. wearing something stupidly short—a skirt that barely qualifies as fabric, hugging your thighs like it’s painted on. you spin around in front of your mirror, the camera catching every angle, every curve, like you’re being filmed for someone else. someone who’d appreciate it.

you pose. cock your head. giggle. the sound is loud, breathy, smiling when you speak. “do you think this is too short?” you ask, tugging the hem of your skirt, your fingers lingering just a second too long.

he blinks.

backs the video up three seconds.

watches again.

your laugh echoes through his headphones, a little distorted, a little too close. he pretends he’s checking the audio, tells himself it’s for sync, that he’s just doing his job. but his eyes are glued to the screen, to the way your skirt rides up as you twirl, to the flash of skin that makes his breath catch.

he watches again.

his mouth is dry, his tongue heavy against his teeth. your skirt flips up higher this time, and you gasp—like you’re surprised, like you didn’t mean to show that much. but you don’t stop filming. don’t cover up. just... laugh, a sound that curls around his spine and sinks into his gut.

he doesn’t even realize his hand is moving until it’s there, slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. his fingers brush against himself, and he hisses, the contact sharp and sudden. he’s already half-hard, his body betraying him before his brain can catch up. the room feels too warm, the hum of his pc too loud, but he doesn’t care. he can’t care.

he rewinds the clip again, pauses on the frame where you’re mid-spin, your skirt flared just enough to show the curve of your ass. his hand wraps around his cock, slow at first, tentative, like he’s testing how far he’ll let himself go. the texture of his own skin is rough, familiar, but it’s not enough. not when it’s you on the screen, laughing like you know he’s watching, like you’re daring him to lose control.

he strokes himself, a tight, deliberate rhythm, his thumb brushing over the tip where he’s already leaking. the sensation jolts him, makes his hips twitch in the chair.

he imagines it’s your hand, your fingers—small, soft, probably clumsy, but eager. he pictures you kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with those wide eyes, your lips parted like they are in the video, glossy and pink and begging to be kissed. or more.

the video plays on. you’re bending over now, adjusting your hair in the mirror, your skirt riding up to expose the thin strip of your underwear. he groans, low and guttural, his hand moving faster.

the sound of your voice—teasing, playful—fills his headphones, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting it wash over him. “do you think this is too short?” you say again, and he wants to answer, wants to growl that it’s perfect, that you’re perfect, that he’d rip it off you if he could.

his grip tightens, his strokes growing erratic. he’s not gentle with himself—never is. it’s all pressure and friction, chasing the edge as fast as he can.

his free hand fumbles with the mouse, scrubbing the timeline back to the moment you gasp, to the split-second flash of your thighs. he loops it, the clip stuttering in time with his breathing, with the slick sound of his hand working himself over. his cock throbs, hot and heavy, and he imagines it’s you—your warmth, your wetness, the way you’d probably whimper if he touched you like this.

he’s close. too close.

his vision blurs at the edges, his pulse hammering in his ears. he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be jerking off to your stupid video like some desperate creep, but the shame only makes it worse, makes it sharper.

he pictures you catching him, walking in right now, seeing him with his pants down and his hand on his dick. would you laugh? would you blush? would you get on your knees and—

he comes with a choked gasp, his hips bucking up into his hand. it’s messy, spilling over his fingers, onto the hem of his shirt. his chest heaves, his head tilting back against the chair as the aftershocks ripple through him. your laugh loops in his headphones, oblivious to the wreck he’s become.

it’s filthy. it’s desperate.

ten minutes later, he’s cleaned himself up, his hands steady again as he trims the file like a good little editor. he cuts out the shaky parts, stabilizes the footage, adjusts the audio so your voice doesn’t clip. it’s clinical now, professional, like he didn’t just fall apart to the sight of you. he names it something sterile: “vlog_cut_1.mov.”

he exports it twice. once normally, for you. once... not. the second version is raw, unedited, every twirl and giggle preserved in crisp 4k. it gets copied to a different folder, buried in a directory labeled “shader_study_2022.” he tells himself it’s in case you need a re-edit. a backup. that’s all.

when you text back:

thank u!! lol i owe uuu :3

he stares at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. his heart’s still racing, a faint tremor in his fingers.

he types “anytime :)” and erases it. sends:

np.

what he doesn’t say: he rewatched the part where you bend over six times. he had his dick in his hand by the second loop. he renamed the close-up to “test_render_asscloseup.mov” and hid it behind three layers of subfolders.

he doesn’t even like tiktok girls.

he’s into 2d, girls with big swords and bigger tits, drawn in sharp lines and impossible proportions. he once bought a dakimakura because the shipping came with a free pin, and it’s still shoved in his closet, one corner stained from a late-night mistake. real girls are messy, unpredictable, too much work. but now?

he’s thinking about the way your laugh dipped when you turned around, the way it caught in your throat like you were nervous. the way you looked into the lens like you knew someone was watching.

someone like him.

next day, you walk in like a fucking weapon.

pink fuzzy shrug, low-rise jeans that sit dangerously low on your hips, a sliver of stomach peeking out like it’s 2004. your hair’s up in a ribbon—pink, of course, swaying as you move. you’re all glitter and confidence, a walking distraction in a lecture hall full of tired students and flickering projectors.

he scoffs under his breath. “tacky.”

but his heart’s pounding, a traitor in his chest. his fingers twitch against the edge of his laptop, betraying the calm he’s trying to project. you slide into the seat two rows ahead and twist around, grinning like a cat, like you know something he doesn’t.

your eyes catch his for a split second, bright and teasing, and he forces himself to look away.

he opens his laptop, types random garbage into a terminal window—some half-baked python script he doesn’t even care about. he runs a fake compile just to feel busy, to drown out the way his blood is rushing too fast.

you lean over to whisper to the girl next to you, your laugh spilling out, loud and careless. your hair tosses, and he swears he catches the scent of your perfume drifting past in invisible waves. saccharine, overwhelming, like strawberries dipped in sugar syrup.

his brain short-circuits. he snaps his headphones on, the cord tangling in his haste. not to listen to music. not to block you out.

to replay your giggle.

he’d isolated the audio last night, cleaned it up with a high-pass filter, boosted the mids to make it crystal clear. exported it as a high-quality .wav, tucked it into a folder labeled “audio_ref.” he tells himself it’s for study, just good reference for future projects. but he loops it now, the sound of your laugh layered over faint lo-fi static he added for texture. it’s you, distilled into a three-second clip, filling his skull.

he closes his eyes and pretends you’re saying his name. satoru, you giggle, breathy and soft, like you’re leaning over his shoulder again, watching him work. satoru, you made it feel so real.

the lecture drones on, but he’s not listening. he’s lost in the rhythm of your voice, the way it dips and rises, the way it makes his skin feel too tight. he shifts in his seat, adjusts his hoodie, tries to ignore the heat pooling in his gut. he’s not supposed to want this. not supposed to want you.

but he does.

the thing about addiction is that it never announces itself.

no dramatic thunderclap. no internal monologue screaming, ah yes, now i am a pervert. it’s quiet. insidious. it sinks in like static, crackling at the edges of satoru’s brain until he’s not sure where his old self ends and this new, wretched version begins.

it’s not like he’s not already a pervert who gets off from pixels. this simply wasn’t his brand of perversion.

that night, he stayed up longer than he should’ve. stared at code for so long his ide crashed, the screen flickering to black as if it knew he was wasting his time. not that he got anything done. 

he just kept switching tabs—your final cut in vlc, some useless bash script in vscode he pretended to care about, then back to your video, the timeline frozen on that twirl, that gasp. his fingers shook when he closed the laptop, but sleep never came.

and now it’s the next day. mid-afternoon. the sun is doing that thing where it turns his apartment into a blinding box of heat and regret. his ac hums like an old man, wheezing against the sticky air. he’s sprawled in his chair, one leg slung over the armrest, staring at the ceiling fan like it might tell him how to stop.

ping.

another discord notification. he doesn’t even flinch this time. your username glows, and the filename attached makes his stomach do a weird little roll: “try-on2_raw.mov”. his eyes linger on the heart emoji you’ve tacked onto the message, like it’s a personal invitation.

hiii! ty for the last edit, ur a lifesaver <3 can u check and trim this one too? i’m trying smth new but idk if it works… lmk what u think pls!!

he clicks download. no hesitation. doesn’t even pretend to care anymore.

the file loads into his editing software like second nature, the premiere pro interface blooming across his screen. muscle memory. routine.

he’s done this a hundred times—except never like this, never with his pulse hammering in his throat and his mouth already dry.

the video starts the same way as the last—handheld, messy lighting, your voice trailing in from offscreen as you fiddle with the camera angle. no mic, of course not. just raw cam audio, unpolished, real, every breath and rustle amplified. he leans closer, like proximity to the screen will make it less dangerous.

“okay—wait, hold on,” you mutter, slightly out of breath. there’s a plastic rustle, fabric scraping skin, the light jingle of a zipper. he catches the sound of your nails tapping the digicam accidentally, a faint clack-clack that makes him picture your fingers, probably painted some ridiculous color, fumbling in that endearing way you do. 

“ugh… come on…” your voice drops, a frustrated huff, low and throaty. “mm—sorry! this one’s hard to pull up.”

then—zipper slides. metal on fabric, slow and deliberate, like it’s teasing him on purpose. you let out a sigh, long, slow, just a little too satisfied, like you’re savoring the release of pressure. the sound coils in his gut, tight and hot.

he freezes.

his mouse stays hovering over the playhead, the cursor trembling slightly. blood is already rushing south, his sweatpants tightening in a way he can’t ignore. his breath catches, shallow and sharp, and the worst part?

you giggle.

“probably got the wrong size,” you say, tugging the dress up higher. the hem catches on your thighs, rising indecently, the fabric clinging to your skin like it’s reluctant to let go. “don’t tell anyone i didn’t try it on in-store first.”

he swallows nothing. jaw tight. the room suddenly feels suffocating, the ac’s hum drowned out by the thud of his own pulse. your lip catches between your teeth, a flash of white against pink gloss, and the camera catches that too, lingers on it like it knows what it’s doing.

you glance at the lens, eyes half-lidded, like you’re waiting for approval, like you’re asking him directly—do you like this?

satoru’s fingers twitch.

one hand stays on the mouse, scrubbing the timeline back three seconds to hear that sigh again. the other hand moves before he can stop it, slipping under his waistband, brushing against the heat of his skin. he’s already hard, achingly so, the kind of hard that makes his head swim.

he wraps his fingers around himself, slow at first, testing, like he’s not sure he’s really doing this again. but the sound of your voice—breathy, teasing—loops in his headphones, and he’s gone.

he strokes himself, deliberate and tight, his grip almost punishing. the video plays on, and you’re stepping into frame now, the dress half-zipped, hugging your curves in a way that makes his throat burn. your thighs shift as you adjust the hem, and he imagines them under his hands, soft and warm, parting just for him.

his thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, slick with precum, and he groans, low and broken, the sound swallowed by the hum of his pc. he pictures your fingers instead, clumsy but eager, your nails grazing his skin as you try to keep up with his rhythm.

he’d guide you, show you how he likes it—fast, rough, no mercy.

you sigh again, and he speeds up, his hand moving in time with the rise and fall of your voice. “this one’s kinda tight,” you murmur, tugging at the neckline, and the fabric stretches, exposing the swell of your chest.

he wants to rip it off, wants to hear you gasp for real, not for the camera but for him. his strokes grow erratic, desperate, the slick sound of his hand filling the room, obscene and unstoppable.

he scrubs the timeline back again, pauses on the frame where your dress slips, where your underwear peeks out—a thin, lacy thing that makes his vision blur. he imagines pulling it aside, imagines the heat of you, the way you’d whimper if he pressed himself inside.

he’s close, too close, his hips twitching up into his hand. the video loops your giggle, that satisfied sigh, and he’s drowning in it, in you.

he pictures you catching him like this, walking into his apartment right now, seeing him with his pants down and his cock in his hand, flushed and leaking. would you laugh? would you blush? would you drop to your knees and let him finish on your lips, glossy and perfect and—

he comes with a muted groan, his head tipping back, eyes screwed shut as his release spills over his fingers, hot and messy. his breath shakes, a ragged exhale that leaves him hollow. the aftershocks pulse through him, and he slumps in his chair, the video still playing, your voice oblivious to the wreckage you’ve caused.

he pauses the frame. your mouth is mid-word, forming the shape of “oops,” lips parted just enough to make his chest ache. he wipes his hand on a paper towel from his desk, crumpled and stained from earlier sins. doesn’t look at himself. doesn’t think.

exports the file without touching a thing. names it “final_edit.mov.” then saves another copy, the raw footage, every sigh and rustle preserved. he names it “jesusfuckingchrist.mp4” and buries it in a folder labeled “misc_ref.”

he tries to normalize it.

“it’s just grading,” he mutters the next time he opens the project, the lie sour on his tongue. “just adjusting white balance.” but the playback bar hasn’t moved from your thighs. he doesn’t touch the colors. not really.

he zooms in under the excuse of checking “grain smoothing,” but it’s just your lip, caught between your teeth, your breath clipped at the edges like you’re holding back.

he tells himself he’s just learning.

every artist has their muse, right? except now he edits to your audio. he used to play podcasts, background noise to keep his brain from spiraling.

now? your breathing is layered into the timeline, a track he’s labeled “vox_ref.” he loops your laugh in reverse, lets it pan from left to right like it’s some surround sound experience.

“this is practice,” he whispers, dragging eq curves around nonsense, boosting the highs until your voice is sharp and intimate. “i’m experimenting with filters.”

right. filters. filters until your voice sounds like it’s right by his ear, like you’re whispering in bed, your breath warm against his skin. he plays a clip of you saying “do you like this one?” over and over, the words detached from context.

he doesn’t even care what you’re referring to anymore. he’s got that part memorized, the way your voice dips, soft and unsure, like you’re asking him to love you.

the next class is worse.

you walk past him in that fuzzy pink shrug thing, one sleeve slipping off your shoulder, and it’s like a bomb goes off in his chest. the fabric clings to you, soft and teasing, and he wants to grab it, pull it down, see how much skin you’ll let him have.

you lean down to plug your charger in, your jeans riding low—too low, the kind of low that makes him wonder how they’re even allowed on campus. he catches a glimpse of your underwear, a flash of lace, and his brain whites out.

he glares at his laptop, scoffs under his breath. “that outfit’s… desperate.” the word feels like a blade, sharp and mean, but it’s all he’s got to keep you at a distance.

your head tilts, innocent, eyes wide like you’re genuinely curious. “you think so?” you say it like you mean it, like you don’t already know the answer, like you haven’t watched your own footage and seen what he’s seen.

he shrugs, keeps scowling, doesn’t look at you. his fingers grip the edge of his laptop too hard, knuckles white. behind the screen, he’s got a paused frame of you licking lip gloss off your thumb, minimized in the corner. it’s been open since he got here.

his file structure is disintegrating. he used to name things with logic—timestamps, project codes, version numbers. now his desktop looks like a manifesto, a digital shrine to his unraveling. “vlog_tryon_final.mov.” “edit_3alt.mp4.” “fuckmeagain_laughcut.mov.” there’s a folder called “NOT work (unless)” that he doesn’t even open anymore, too afraid of what he’ll find.

he tries to draw a line, but it’s blurry. always blurry. he doesn’t know where the edit ends and obsession begins. when he dreams, he dreams about zippers—except they’re not zipzers. they’re your legs, parting slow and deliberate, your breath hitching as he pulls you closer.

a new text lights up his screen:

 hey! idk if the last one looks good… should i redo it? it felt kinda awkward lol sorry T_T

you sound insecure, unsure, your words dripping with that self-conscious charm that makes his chest hurt. he stares at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard, his mind spiraling.

you don’t know, do you? you don’t know what you’re doing to him, how your voice alone is enough to make him hard again.

he types:

looks clean. don’t worry about it.

satoru watches the word clean sit there like a fucking lie. his dick twitches, traitor that it is.

he hates himself.

but he opens the raw file again. scrubs through, frame by frame, until he finds that timestamp—where you moan, soft and accidental, like you didn’t mean to let it slip. he watches it, his headphones sealing him in with the sound of you. he exports that single second, names it “moan_finalgodhelpme.mp4,” and tucks it away like a secret he’ll never confess.

the timeline sits open, your frozen frame staring back at him. he doesn’t close it. doesn’t want to.

it starts with static in his skull.

not the loud, electric kind that chokes you up or begs to be noticed. it’s quiet. a whir, like an old fan that never shuts off, humming behind his thoughts. when satoru drags his mouse across the screen and sees your name still on the folder, it buzzes—faint, familiar, a sickness with your scent.

he changes the name from “NOT work (unless)” to “ARCHIVE_21,” moves it to a different directory, pretends it’s work, or dead, or both. but the static doesn’t stop. it clings, sticky and warm, like your laugh looping in his headphones.

it doesn’t help.

not when he dreams in highlighter gloss and those half-bitten whines you make when stretching, your body arching just so. not when he wakes up rutting into damp sheets, mouthing your name like a damn prayer, his hips jerking against nothing. the shame burns, but it’s not enough to make him stop.

satoru’s trying.

really.

he takes up freelance gigs, edits wedding footage for some guy he hasn’t spoken to since second year. overlays cheesy filters, mutes the groom’s ugly laugh, syncs the vows to some overused acoustic track. it’s clean. respectable. sterile enough to make him itch, like he’s wearing someone else’s skin. but the folder’s still there, buried in his drive like it knows he’ll come back.

2:03 a.m.

his inbox pings, a sharp sound that cuts through the drone of his pc fans. your name lights up the screen, and his chest tightens before he even reads the message.

hiii satoru!! sorry for the late send, been sooo busy <3 can u take a look at this haul vid? i tried smth spicy but idk if it’s too much… lmk what u think pretty pls!!

march haul (raw).mp4

he knows he shouldn’t. there’s no logical reason, no business context, just the weight of your words—spicy, pretty pls—sinking into his gut. but his hands move on their own, clicking download, the progress bar filling like a fuse burning down.

click.

of course he does.

the video starts soft, your bedroom light diffused to a golden haze, casting shadows that dance across rumpled sheets. it looks like you’ve been tossing in them all day, the fabric creased and inviting.

you’re in lace—barely. something soft pink and flimsy, a slip of fabric that clings to your curves like it’s begging to be torn off.

your thigh’s out, one leg bent just enough to draw his eye, and the camera’s angled low, too low, like you meant to frame it this way.

“god, i hope this one fits…” your voice is breathy, a little strained, like you’re fighting the fabric. you adjust a strap, your fingers lingering on the lace, and your lip catches between your teeth, glossy and pink, a casual gesture that’s anything but. his breath stutters, a sharp inhale that burns his throat.

“oops, sorry—too much cleavage?” you laugh, not to yourself but at him.

he knows it.

his cock knows it, twitching against the seam of his sweatpants. the screen shakes as you set the camera on something unsteady—a stack of books, maybe—and it rocks just as you turn around, hips swaying, your ass hugged by that tiny thong, the lace cutting into your skin like a claim. you glance back over your shoulder, smirk poised like a dagger, eyes glinting in the soft light.

“i bet you’d pause right here, wouldn’t you?”

he does.

the video cuts mid-breath, and he doesn’t hear the silence. he’s frozen, hand halfway down, brain wiped clean. the frame lingers on your ass, the curve of it framed by lace, and his mouth is dry, his pulse hammering so loud it drowns out the static.

ping.

march haul (real).mp4

oops. wrong send lol. this is the real one!

his screen is still painted with the freeze-frame of your ass. his dick’s straining so hard it aches, a dull throb that makes him shift in his chair. he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move for a full minute, just stares at the message, the word oops taunting him. then—

he saves both files. drags them into “ARCHIVE_21” with a trembling cursor, his fingers clumsy on the trackpad. he opens the raw one again, slower this time, one hand on his lap, the other fisting his sheets until the fabric creaks.

you’re back on screen, adjusting the strap again, your laugh curling through his headphones like smoke. his hand slips under his waistband, and he’s already leaking, the tip slick and sensitive as he grips himself.

he strokes slow, deliberate, savoring the friction, but his mind’s elsewhere—on the hentai he’s spent years jerking off to, the doujins with dog-eared pages and cum-stained corners.

he pictures you like those girls, bent over and begging, your lace thong pushed to the side as he fucks you from behind, your moans louder, needier, than anything you’ve let slip on camera.

he imagines pinning you to those rumpled sheets, your thighs trembling under his hands, your ass bouncing with every thrust. no teasing giggles, no coy glances—just you, fucked out and whimpering, his name on your lips as he buries himself deep, so deep you can’t think.

his hand speeds up, the slick sound obscene in the quiet of his room. he scrubs the timeline back, pauses on the moment you turn, your smirk sharp and knowing.

he wants to wipe it off, wants to fuck you until you’re too wrecked to smile, until you’re clawing at the sheets and sobbing his name. he imagines your cunt, tight and wet, gripping him as he pounds into you, the lace of your thong rubbing raw against his skin.

it’s not enough to watch you anymore, not enough to stroke himself to your voice—he wants to ruin you, wants to feel you break under him, wants to make you his in a way those 2d girls never could.

he cums with a low, breathy whisper of your name, his hips jerking up into his hand. it’s intense, almost painful, spilling over his fingers and onto the hem of his shirt.

his chest heaves, his vision blurring as he slumps back, the video still playing, your laugh oblivious to the mess he’s become. he opens it again, doesn’t touch himself this time—just watches, memorizes, eyes glassy and mouth parted.

at one point, he swears he moans with you, a soft sound that slips out unbidden, his body betraying him even when he’s spent. when he edits the “real” file, he’s a machine. no stutters, no slips, just sharp keystrokes and surgical cuts, trimming shaky frames and boosting your voice until it’s crisp.

the guilt claws at him, a dull ache in his chest, but it only makes the next orgasm worse—and better. he exports it, names it “haul_march_final.mov,” and saves the raw file to a new subfolder: “stills_ref.” he doesn’t name the second copy. doesn’t need to. it’s just for him.

he plays it cool in class. “wow. another fit straight outta your grandma’s closet,” he scoffs as you pass, voice dripping with mockery, lips curling into something lazy and mean.

but his gaze flickers—just once, low and quick, like he’s checking for danger. and there it is. a flash of soft pink lace against the curve of your thigh as you shift your bag higher up your shoulder. just a sliver. deliberate.

he knows that lace. knows it from the raw footage, from the way it hugged your skin under golden light. his smirk falters for half a second, a crack in his armor.

you turn your head, slow as syrup, and smile at him over your shoulder. it’s airy, innocent, ditzy enough to play dumb, poisonous enough to feel like a threat. “mm? that bad, huh?” your voice is light, but your eyes linger a moment too long, sharp and knowing, like you’re peeling him open.

you take your seat two rows away, crossing one leg over the other with careful grace. your skirt rides up, just enough to show the edge of that lace again, and your fingers toy absentmindedly with the hem, brushing the fabric like it’s a game.

he doesn’t blink.

he knows what’s under that skirt, knows the way that lace bites into your skin when you move just like that. he’s seen it in soft lighting, tangled with shadows and sighs. he knows, and you know, and neither of you say a word.

he can’t breathe.

his hand trembles as he grips his pen, scrawling nonsense on the corner of his notes—random numbers, jagged lines, anything to keep his fingers busy.

someone’s asking a question about identity and performance, something about how we present ourselves versus how we wish to be perceived, and satoru’s already halfway to standing.

“sorry. washroom.” his voice cracks halfway through the lie, too sharp, too rushed.

satoru stumbles into the men’s room like he’s escaping a crime scene, the door clicking shut behind him. palm flat against cold tile, forehead pressed to the inside of his wrist, he tries to breathe, tries to think of anything else—code, deadlines, the wedding edit he’s behind on.

but it’s you.

always you. your smile, your laugh, the lace peeking out like a taunt.

he’s already hard, already leaking, the front of his jeans tight and unforgiving. he fumbles with the button, shoves them down just enough, and grips himself, his hand shaking as he strokes.

he closes his eyes and sees you—not the you in class, not the you playing dumb, but the you from his fantasies, the you he’s built from hentai panels and late-night desperation. he imagines you on your knees, lace thong pulled down, your cunt glistening as he fucks you against the bathroom sink.

no giggles, no teasing—just raw, desperate need, your moans echoing off the tiles as he slams into you, his hands bruising your hips, your body arching to take him deeper.

he wants you messy, wants you marked, wants to fill you until you’re dripping, until you’re his in a way that’s permanent.

he strokes faster, his breath hitching, his teeth sinking into his knuckles to muffle the groan clawing up his throat. he cums hard, too fast, his knees buckling as it spills over his hand, hot and shameful. he shakes, gasping, his forehead slick against the tile, and thinks of lace. thinks of lip gloss. thinks of your voice saying “oops” like it’s a sin.

it doesn’t take long for his desktop to become an altar.

the background’s still you, a freeze-frame from the first video, your lip gloss shimmering and fingers caught mid-twist in your hair. he tells himself it’s temporary, just a visual reference.

it’s been three weeks.

folders on folders: “hauls > favs > zoom_ins > stills > pantyshots.” “audio_samples > moan_loop > breath_only.wav.” “color tests > gloss_ref > lips.png.”

some nights, he replays a single frame just to watch your mouth form the word “fuck,” slows it down, isolates the syllables, pretends you’re saying his name instead.

the worst part?

you’re still pretending nothing’s changed. still calling them “favors,” still sending content like it’s work, like it’s nothing.

but your outfits are shorter, your giggles stick to the air longer, your eyes linger like you’re testing something. and when you purr, “you’re sooo good at this, satoru,” with that saccharine lilt, your voice curling around his name like a caress, he bites the inside of his cheek just to keep quiet. fists the sheets at night and prays.

he moans your name in the dark, face hot with shame, and hates how much he wants you to hear it.

satoru’s become sleep-deprived, dark smudges nesting beneath his eyes like fingerprints left behind by guilt or obsession or both. he wears his glasses more lately, less out of need and more as a buffer between him and the world—between him and you.

the lenses catch the glow of his new triple-monitor setup, a sleek beast he told himself was for coding, for editing, for multitasking. not for keeping your videos looping on the side monitor while he pretends to work on the main one. not for that at all.

your folder’s pinned in quick access, a permanent fixture in his file explorer. he keeps it open in the background at all times, a digital pulse that hums alongside his pc fans. second nature now, like breathing or wanting. not unlike a shrine.

in class, he pretends to take notes, his stylus scratching nonsense on his tablet. he’s not. he’s watching a gif on his phone, hidden under the desk—a loop of your tongue dragging slow across lip gloss, eyes soft with focus like you’re painting yourself pretty just for him. the gif’s only three seconds, but he’s memorized every frame, every flicker of your lashes. his thumb swipes to replay it, again, again, until his vision blurs.

ctrl+shift+eject brain.exe.

three days pass, and you haven’t messaged. he checks your chat thread more than he breathes—opens, closes, re-opens, scrolling through your old texts like they’ll reveal something new. every flicker of hope is a false start, a phantom ping that makes his chest lurch. he’s pathetic, he knows it, but knowing doesn’t stop the itch.

then:

ping.

april haul (suits).mov

hii satoru!! new haul vid for u to check <3 tried some swimsuits this time, hope it’s not too boring to trim hehe. lmk what u think!!���

he nearly drops his phone, his thumb smudging the screen as he fumbles to download. his new setup hums to life, the main monitor flashing with code he hasn’t touched in hours, the side monitor already open to your folder.

he drags the file into premiere, the timeline blooming across the screen, but his eyes are on the raw video, already playing on the right monitor, your voice spilling through his headphones like honey.

the video’s different this time. the camera’s lower, like it’s been left on a desk or shelf, pointing slightly upward to frame you from your knees to just above your head. your bed makes a cozy blur in the background, sheets tangled like an invitation.

you’re in a bikini top that isn’t trying very hard to stay on, thin strings knotted loosely at your neck and back, the fabric barely containing you. “mmm. does this scream summer, or slut?” you giggle, feigned innocence like frosting over heat, your voice curling around the words like you know exactly what they’ll do to him.

you play with the strings at your chest, tugging, adjusting, your fingers brushing the swell of your breasts. then, softer, breathier, to the lens: “baby, help me pick…”

baby.

it breaks him all over again, a crack that runs straight through his chest. his cock twitches, already hard, straining against his boxers.

everything after that gets softer, lazier, dangerous in how intimate it feels. there’s no performative energy now—just casual, candid seduction, your movements slow, like you’re not hurrying for anyone. like you know exactly who’s watching and how long he’ll linger.

when you shrug a dress off your shoulders, you sigh, the sound catching in your throat. when you twist to adjust a strap, you hum, low and absentminded. and when you struggle with a clasp at your back, your fingers fumbling, you moan—soft, unintentional, a sound that slips out like it surprised even you.

satoru’s thumb slams the spacebar, pausing the video, rewinding three seconds to hear it again. he watches the way your lips part, the way your brows twitch, the way your body shifts like you’re chasing the sensation.

he’s already leaking, his boxers damp as he shoves them down, his hand wrapping around himself. the side monitor loops the raw footage, your moan playing over and over, while the main monitor holds the paused frame of your parted lips. he strokes slow at first, his grip tight, his thumb swiping over the tip where he’s slick and sensitive.

his mind slips to the doujins he’s hoarded, the hentai he’s spent years chasing—the girls with flushed cheeks and desperate eyes, fucked raw and begging for more. but now it’s you, not some inked fantasy, and it’s so much filthier.

he imagines you sprawled across your bed, that bikini top ripped off, your thighs spread wide as he fucks you deep, relentless, your cunt clenching around him as you sob his name. no teasing, no giggles—just you, wrecked and dripping, your nails clawing his back as he takes you again and again, each thrust harder, messier, until you’re nothing but his.

his hand speeds up, the slick sound loud in his room, mixing with your looped moan. he wants you pinned beneath him, wants to feel you squirm, wants to fuck you until the bed creaks and your voice breaks, until you’re begging like those hentai girls, your glossed lips trembling as you say his name—satoru, please, more.

he imagines filling you, his cum leaking down your thighs, your body marked by him in ways he can’t unsee. it’s not enough to watch, not enough to stroke—he wants to own you, wants to make you his in every way those 2d fantasies taught him to crave.

he cums hard, forehead pressed to his desk, a low groan tearing from his throat as it spills over his hand, his keyboard, the edge of his new setup. his breath is ragged, like he’s run a marathon, his glasses fogging slightly as he gasps.

the side monitor still plays, your voice oblivious, your moan looping like a hymn. he doesn’t stop the video, just slumps back, spent and shaking, and watches again, his hand twitching like it’s not done.

it doesn’t take long for his room to reek of sweat and sin.

he edits shirtless now, sometimes in boxers, always hard, always leaking. every file’s renamed with trembling hands: “wifey_take7.mov.” “wifey_raw.mp4.”

he syncs your sighs to his lo-fi playlist, turns it into a lullaby, falls asleep to the sound of your breath. sometimes he slows your voice just to hear “baby” dragged out into velvet, makes gifs of your hands skimming your hips, kisses the screen when he’s drunk enough to forget shame.

you, on the other hand, don’t break character.

in class, you chew your pen and lean forward, the arch of your spine exact, your cleavage subtle—barely a tease, just enough to make his throat tighten. he looks away with a clenched jaw, adjusts himself under the desk, twice, his jeans unforgiving.

you whisper to a friend and giggle, and he lipreads, thinks he sees the words “can’t wait,” but maybe he’s hallucinating, maybe not. it doesn’t matter.

he starts responding to the clips aloud.

“fuck yes, that one.” “spin again, baby.” sometimes he mumbles your name like a prayer, sometimes he chokes it into his pillow. every orgasm has your name carved into it, a brand he can’t erase.

one night, he opens a file to edit, drags it into premiere, but he doesn’t touch it. just watches, headphones in, barely breathing. not a content creator now, not a student, not even a man—just a creature of need, and you his ritual, his muse, his goddess.

the screen shows you adjusting the straps of a silky babydoll, the lighting warm, your thighs bare, half-tucked under you as you sit prettily at the edge of your bed.

“okay, so this one’s… like, totally giving ‘come to bed’ energy, right?” you giggle, voice light, teeth sinking into your glossed lip as you bounce once, soft and natural, the fabric barely covering your chest.

satoru groans low in his throat, not even trying to hide it. “it’s giving bend over,” he mutters, lips twitching, his side monitor looping the raw footage, his main screen frozen on your smile. “fuck, look at you…”

you reach behind you, struggle with the clasp, wiggle your shoulders like you’re teasing whoever’s behind the camera. “oof. that’s tight… should i size up?” a breathy laugh follows, your sigh melting into it.

he licks his lips, your audio crystal-clear in his headphones. you’re right there, talking to him. “nah, baby,” he croons, eyes fixed on the curve of your spine as you turn. “tight’s perfect. keeps the goods in place.”

you blow a kiss at the lens. “hope you’re not bored yet,” you say with a wink. “i saved the cutest for last…”

you bend off-frame, your ass peeking just above the edge of the bed, round and inviting in cotton panties with lace trim, and when you rise again, your hands hold something sheer and tiny. “tadaaa,” you whisper, eyes glinting with mischief. “this one’s for my favorite viewer.”

00:05:46—satoru slams the shortcut, timestamp saved. a second later, he screenshots, then again, then again, frame by frame, until he finds the exact one where your lip’s caught between your teeth and your ass is still halfway in the air.

“fucking perfect,” he mutters, breath uneven. he pulls the image up on his main screen, zooms in, sharpens it, runs it through noise reduction. the side monitor loops the raw video, your voice sweet and teasing, while the right monitor plays a gif of your earlier moan, your lips parted in that soft, accidental sound.

his hand’s already moving, shoving his boxers down, his cock springing free, hard and leaking like it’s been waiting for this. 

he grips himself, rough and urgent, no pretense of patience. the new setup’s perfect—your video on the side, his code on the main screen like he’s working, but it’s all you, every pixel, every sound.

he strokes in time with your giggle, his eyes flicking between the gif of your moan and the screenshot of your ass, his mind spiraling into the filthiest corners of his hentai-soaked brain.

he imagines you on that bed, face down, ass up, the babydoll hiked to your waist as he fucks you so hard the headboard cracks. he wants you screaming, wants your cunt pulsing around him, wants to pull your hair and make you look at him as he fills you, over and over, until you’re a mess, until you’re his completely.

his strokes are frantic, his breath hitching, his hips bucking into his hand. he pictures you tied to the bed, like that one doujin he read last month, your wrists bound with those same bikini strings, your thighs trembling as he fucks you through one orgasm into the next.

he wants to cum inside you, wants to watch it drip out, wants to push it back in with his fingers and make you lick them clean. it’s not enough to jerk off anymore, not enough to dream—he wants to break you, wants to make you real, wants to fuck you until you’re as addicted to him as he is to you.

he cums with a choked growl, his head tipping back, glasses slipping down his nose as it spills over his hand, his desk, the sticky mess splattering his keyboard.

he’s shaking, gasping, his chest heaving as the side monitor loops your voice, your “baby” purring like a mantra. his wrist’s sticky, his room a haze of sweat and shame, but he doesn’t care. he’s not even really here.

you’re everywhere now—three monitors, three altars, your image burned into his retinas. he’d worship on his knees if you asked.

the next day, another file:

april haul (closeups).mp4

sorry! idk if this one’s helpful but i liked the shots hehe

he doesn’t unzip his pants. doesn’t need to. he’s already throbbing from the inside out, his body reacting to your name alone. he clicks, watches, kneels, and whispers your name like a benediction, the static in his skull louder than ever.

it starts with a ping.

innocuous. a single pixel shift on the main monitor mid-code, just as satoru’s debugging a script for a deadline he already missed. his side monitor hums with your last video, paused on that frame where your lip’s caught between your teeth, and the third monitor’s open to a half-finished render he hasn’t touched in days. he glances lazily at the notification, expecting another reminder from suguru to shower or eat—

but no. it’s you.

hey… do u do filming too?

his fingers freeze. heart jams, a dull thud in his chest. the cursor blinks, waiting, mocking. he doesn’t think. doesn’t breathe. his glasses slip down his nose, and he doesn’t fix them. the words burn into his retinas, and his cock twitches before he can process why.

yeah. totally. what kind of shoot?

he sends it, his thumb trembling over the enter key. no reply. not for five whole minutes. the wait is a crucifixion, each second stretching into eternity. he keeps opening and closing the chat, rereading your words like they might shift into something dirtier, something more.

his triple-monitor setup glows, your frozen frame on the side monitor staring at him, lips parted, eyes glinting. he’s already leaking in his pants, a damp spot spreading against his thigh.

then:

just a casual thing. home setup. come over?

he reads it twice. three times. his breath catches, sharp and shallow, like he’s been punched. come over. your dorm. your space. he’s hard, achingly so, his boxers tight and unforgiving. he doesn’t reply, just slams his laptop shut, grabs his camera bag, and stumbles out the door.

he shows up twenty minutes later, barely remembered to wear deodorant, definitely forgot his dignity. his high-end sony alpha mirrorless—loaded with a lens that costs more than most people’s rent—bounces against his chest as he knocks. his palms are slick, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own nerves.

you open the door with a giggle, wrapped in a pastel pink robe that might as well be air. it clings to the curve of your waist, parts at the thigh, revealing soft skin that makes his throat burn. your hair’s still damp, sticking to your collarbones, and the scent of vanilla lotion hits him like a drug. “thanks for coming! i’m kinda nervous…”

he wants to bark out same, but his jaw locks. he swallows instead, the motion too loud in his ears. “no problem.” his voice is gravel, like he’s choking on his own want. he steps inside, and your dorm swallows him whole—warm, cutesy, a pastel fever dream of plush throw pillows, fairy lights, and a pink velvet couch that looks too soft, too inviting.

he’s already imagining you bent over it, your robe hiked up, your moans echoing off the walls. it smells like you sprayed your strawberry perfume over every surface, dizzying, suffocating. his glasses fog again.

he sets up the tripod with shaking hands, the sony’s weight grounding him just enough to keep from falling apart. you bounce around the living room, humming, fluffing pillows on the couch, fixing your gloss in a heart-shaped mirror propped against a shelf.

“does this lighting make me look washed out?” you ask, stepping back, tilting your head. then you bend to adjust a lamp, and your robe parts just enough to reveal the gentle curve of your ass, bare except for a sliver of lace.

he sees. pretends he didn’t. fumbles the lens cap, twice, the plastic clattering to the floor. his face burns, but he keeps his eyes on the camera, adjusting settings he doesn’t need to touch.

you brush past him again and again, your bare arm glancing his, silk whispering across his knuckles when you pass. he smells shampoo in the air, thick and sweet, and it’s you, all you, sinking into his lungs. “you nervous?” you tease, voice light, a giggle curling at the edges.

he scoffs, wiping his palm against his jeans, the denim rough against his slick skin. “pfft. nah. i’ve filmed worse.” a lie, bold and brittle, his voice too tight to sell it.

“worse than me?” you pout, stepping closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth of your breath. “ouch.”

“i didn’t say that.” his voice cracks, a hairline fracture. he’s too aware of you, of the way your robe slips an inch, of the way your eyes glint like you’re playing with him.

you tilt your head, wide-eyed, all fake innocence. “sooo… you have filmed pretty girls before?”

he falters, breath stuttering in his chest. he’s a virgin, hasn’t touched a girl in years, hasn’t wanted to—not when hentai’s been enough, when doujins have been his only lovers. but you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re breaking him.

“no one like you,” he says, unfiltered, raw, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

your lips curl, slow and sweet, a smile that says i know. “hm. figured.”

you disappear into your bedroom for a few minutes, the door clicking shut. he pretends to adjust the white balance, tweaking settings on the sony that are already perfect, but really he’s staring at the door like it owes him salvation.

his cock’s throbbing, a dull ache that won’t quit, and he shifts, trying to ease the pressure. the living room feels too small, the pink couch too soft, the fairy lights too intimate. he’s imagining you sprawled across that couch, your robe gone, your thighs spread, his camera capturing every gasp.

the door opens. you emerge. lingerie set, pale and sheer, a mini skirt that barely qualifies, lip gloss freshly reapplied. you look like a doll, saccharine and sinful, every curve a taunt. “can you help me zip this?” you turn, bare back exposed, the zipper halfway up, your spine a perfect line that begs to be touched.

he steps forward, too close, his exhale brushing your shoulder. his fingers graze your skin—soft, warm, real—and you shiver, a small, deliberate tremor. he pulls the zipper up with trembling hands, the metal catching once, his breathing uneven. the distance between you shatters into nothing, the air thick with static.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he rasps, low in your ear, his voice rough with want.

“doing what?” you whisper, fake innocence thick as honey, your head tilting just enough to catch his eye.

you look back at him, lashes fluttering, lips parted, glossy and pink. he breaks.

“fuck.”

he grabs you, his hands rough on your hips, your mouths crashing together—teeth, tongue, gasps. your lip gloss smears against his cheek, sweet and sticky, and he groans into the kiss, devouring you.

you moan into his mouth, legs wrapping around his hips as he lifts you onto the counter, the edge biting into your thighs. you’re silk and heat and sin beneath his hands, and he’s forgotten everything else—his camera, his code, his shame. only you exist now.

you feel his hard-on through his jeans, pressed against your thighs, and he’s panting, his breath stuttering against your skin as he kisses down your jaw, your neck, the ridge of your spine. his mouth is everywhere, like he’s starved, like he’s trying to memorize you with his tongue.

his glasses slip down, and he grins against your collarbone. “need to get a better look,” he mutters, a flimsy excuse to lean closer, until the fog of his breath warms your skin. he bites your collarbone, hard, groaning when he leaves a mark. “wanna see that in playback.”

he drops to his knees without hesitation, a virgin’s worship, reverence born from years of hentai and nothing else. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them wide, and he groans like he’s just found salvation. he runs his tongue along the inner part first, slow and teasing, so close to the lace of your panties but not touching what you want.

you try to close your legs, but he forces them open, his grip bruising, his mouth finding the wet spot through the fabric. “fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls, voice muffled, his tongue dragging heavy and slow, the lace rough against your clit. “been wet for me this whole time, huh? fuckin’ tease.”

you whimper, hips bucking, and he moans into you, the vibration making you gasp. he licks through the panties, relentless, his glasses slipping halfway down his nose but he doesn’t care.

“you taste better than i dreamed,” he says, his voice hoarse, hentai dialogue spilling out like it’s natural. he sucks at the fabric, tongue pressing harder, and you’re trembling, your hands fisting his hair as you grind against his face. he’s messy, desperate, his moans louder than yours, like he’s the one about to cum. you do, hard, a cry tearing from your throat as you shudder against his mouth, and he doesn’t stop, lapping at the soaked lace like it’s his last meal.

he presses his cheek to your thigh, sticky and glistening, looking up at you with glassy eyes. “first one’s mine,” he says, grinding his hips into the floor, his jeans tight with his own need. you don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. he spreads you open with his fingers, peeling the panties aside, watching your hole twitch with a hunger that makes his mouth water.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice dripping with awe. “fuckin’ perfect.” he slides two fingers in, slow at first, then deeper, curling them just right, like he’s memorized every doujin panel that showed him how. “shit—i’ve seen this in hentai but it’s better. fuck, it’s real.”

his fingers pump, slick and steady, and you’re moaning, head thrown back, the counter digging into your hips. he adds a third, stretching you, his free hand jerking himself through his jeans, matching the pace of his fingers inside you. “so tight, baby. you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

he spits on your pussy, a quick, filthy gesture, his eyes locked on yours as it drips down. “they never show that part right in hentai. had to test it myself.” you moan, loud and broken, and he moans louder, his fingers slipping out with a wet squelch. he licks them clean, slow, eyes fluttering shut like he’s savoring you. “fuck—want it all.”

he stands, trembling, his jeans tented painfully. “can i?” his voice is small, almost pleading, a crack in his bravado. you nod, and he fumbles with his belt, shoving his jeans down just enough. he lines himself up, his cock thick and leaking, the tip brushing your entrance. “you’re so warm—holy shit—you’re squeezing me—fuck—”

he slides in, slow at first, gasping as you take him, your cunt tight and slick around him. he’s a virgin, but he knows this, knows the rhythm from years of jerking off to scenes just like this. he freezes, trying not to cum, his glasses fogging as he pants. you clench down, deliberate, and he slaps your thigh, a quick, sharp sting that earns him a whine.

“don’t—fuck, don’t do that yet.”

he pulls out, just to slam back in, harder, the counter creaking under you. his rhythm’s sloppy, desperate, but he finds it, each thrust deeper, rougher. “look at you,” he growls, his voice pure filth, hentai dialogue spilling free. “taking my cock like a good little slut. you love this, don’t you? fuckin’ made for me.” he licks the tears running down your cheek, his tongue hot and greedy. “crying already? baby, i’m not even close to done.”

you moan his name, and he loses it, his thrusts turning frantic, messy, like he’s trying to ruin you. “film it. show me what you see,” you gasp, and he fumbles for his phone, almost dropping it with how hard he’s shaking.

the camera app opens in a blur of fingers, then steadies, the lens catching you spread wide beneath him, thighs trembling, pussy stuffed full of his cock. he holds it there, watching the way you flutter around him, his breath ragged. “watch this later and see how ruined you look, baby,” he pants, voice hoarse, wild.

he leans in, still recording, whispering filth against your ear. “that’s right. take it. cry for me. i want you loud.” his other hand drags the mic closer, the sony’s external recorder capturing every slick thrust, every broken sob, every wet squelch, loud and obscene.

he fucks you harder, the counter shaking, your tits bouncing with each thrust. “gonna fuck you on every piece of furniture in here,” he growls, his voice low, unhinged. “that couch? gonna bend you over it. that table? gonna spread you wide. your bed? gonna fill you till you’re screaming.”

you clench around him, and he groans, his hips stuttering. “fuck, you like that? you want me to wreck you everywhere, don’t you?” you nod, gasping, and he slaps your thigh again, harder, leaving a red mark. “say it, baby. tell me you want it.”

“i want it,” you whimper, voice breaking, and he grins, feral, his thrusts turning punishing. you cum again, a shuddering mess, your cry echoing in the mic as your cunt pulses around him, slick dripping down your thighs. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, his cock throbbing as he fucks you through it.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants, his voice cracking, hentai fantasies spilling out. “gonna cum so deep you’ll feel me for days. you want that, don’t you? want my cum dripping out of you?”

you nod, moaning, and he loses it, slamming into you one last time as he cums, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. it’s hot, messy, spilling inside you, and he keeps thrusting, shallow and desperate, like he’s trying to push it deeper.

satoru doesn’t stop.

in fact, he lifts you, his arms wrapping under your thighs like you’re weightless, his cock still buried inside you, slick and pulsing. your head lolls against his shoulder, your breath hot against his neck, and he groans, low and guttural, as he carries you toward your bedroom.

the air shifts as he crosses the threshold, your perfume hitting him harder here—floral and sugary, the same scent that clings to your pillow, your wrist, your everything. it’s thicker in this room, curling around him like a trap, and he kicks the door shut behind him, the click loud in the quiet.

he pushes you toward the vanity, your back meeting the cool glass of the mirror with a soft thud. he bends you over it, slow and deliberate, his hands guiding your hips until your cheek presses against the surface, your breath fogging the reflection.

“look at you,” he groans, angling his phone to capture the scene—your flushed face, your glossed lips parted, your eyes half-lidded in the mirror as you whine in embarassment.

“pretty little thing, still trying to act innocent.” his voice is rough, edged with hunger, and he shifts his hips, thrusting shallowly, keeping you pinned, reaching for your lip gloss.

you mumble something, a weak protest or plea, but he shuts it up with a swipe of your lip gloss across your mouth, his hand trembling as he paints your lips pink, the applicator slick and messy.

“perfect,” he says, pulling back just enough to admire the shine, the way it catches the light. then he pushes in again, deeper, and you both moan, the sound mingling in the air, caught by the sony’s mic still recording from the tripod in the corner.

he kisses you messily—gloss smearing, lips hungry, teeth clashing as he grinds his hips, slow and torturous, never breaking the rhythm. the camera stays on, the phone propped against a perfume bottle, capturing every gasp, every shudder.

“taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your mouth, his tongue chasing the sticky sweetness. “gonna kiss you till you’re dripping everywhere.”

satoru lays you on the bed next, gentle but urgent, his hands shaking as he props his phone against a stack of books on your nightstand, the camera app open, framing you perfectly—your body sprawled across the pastel sheets, thighs parted, lingerie barely clinging to your skin, the sheer fabric of your top stretched tight over your chest, the mini skirt hiked up to expose the lace of your panties.

he climbs over you, his glasses slipping down his nose, and pushes your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders, the angle forcing you open, vulnerable.

“fuck, you feel like heaven,” he says, voice cracking, almost reverent, as he slides back inside you, slow and deep, the heat of you pulling a groan from his throat. “i’m never gonna stop, baby.”

each thrust is deliberate, his hips rolling to hit that spot that makes you arch, your nails raking down his arms, leaving red trails he’ll stare at later.

he kisses you through it, his mouth sloppy and desperate, swallowing your moans like they’re his lifeline. the bed creaks under you, the fairy lights casting a soft glow over your tear-streaked face, and he’s lost in it, in the way you clench around him, so tight it’s like you’re made for him.

“so fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot and uneven. “taking my cock like you were born for it.”

he tugs at the straps of your lingerie top, pulling it down until your tits spill free, the sheer fabric catching under them, and he groans, his mouth latching onto a nipple, sucking hard until you whimper, your hips bucking against him.

but it doesn’t last—he needs more, needs to see you break in ways he’s only imagined in the dark of his room, his hand on his cock and your videos on loop.

he pulls out, his dick slick and throbbing, and grabs your hips, flipping you with a low grunt. he drags you up by the waist, positioning you on your knees, your ass high, your face pressed into the sheets, the skirt still bunched around your hips. his hand slides up your spine, pushing your chest down, arching you just right, and he yanks the lace panties to the side, not bothering to take them off.

“this is what you get for teasing me all these days,” he growls, his voice unhinged, as he lines himself up and thrusts in, hard and deep, the slap of skin sharp in the quiet room.

you whimper, muffled against the pillow, and he fucks harder, each thrust rocking you forward, the bedframe rattling, your moans spilling free despite the fabric. his phone’s still recording, propped precariously, catching every angle—your arched back, your trembling thighs, the way his cock disappears into you with every brutal snap of his hips.

“look at that pussy,” he says, his free hand gripping your ass, spreading you open for the camera. “so greedy, swallowing me whole. you love this, don’t you?” he tugs your hair, pulling your head back, forcing your cries to echo. “louder, baby. let the whole fuckin’ dorm hear you.”

he slows, just to torment you, his hips grinding deep, making you squirm, your overstimulated body shaking under him. you’re teary, sobs catching in your throat, but he doesn’t care—he wants you loud, wants you broken. he leans down, his chest pressed to your back, and bites your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.

“cry for me,” he whispers, his voice rough, his hand slipping around to pinch your nipple, twisting until you gasp. “wanna hear you fall apart.” he pulls out, leaving you empty, and you whine, a desperate, keening sound that makes him smirk.

“patience, princess,” he mocks, slapping your ass lightly, the sting making you clench around nothing.

satoru guides you up, turning you to face him, and pushes you back onto the bed, climbing over you. “wanna see you ride me,” he says, lying back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips as you straddle him. he tugs the skirt off completely, tossing it aside, leaving you in just the stretched-out lingerie top and soaked panties.

“bounce,” he growls, his eyes locked on where you sink down onto him, slow and deliberate, your cunt stretching around him as you take him inch by inch. “show the camera how you fuck me.”

his phone’s angled to catch it all—your tits bouncing, still half-caught in the sheer fabric, your thighs trembling, the way you gasp every time you drop down, taking him to the hilt.

you move, your hips rolling, your hands braced on his chest, and he’s sweating, his glasses slipping, his breath ragged. he doesn’t let you slow, his hands lifting you, slamming you back down, making you take him deeper. “that’s it,” he says, voice hoarse, his fingers digging into your ass, leaving bruises. “fuck yourself on my cock. show me how bad you need it.”

you’re sobbing now, tears streaming down your cheeks, but you keep going, your moans loud and broken, your body shaking from the overstimulation. he reaches up, ripping the lingerie top off completely, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound, and gropes your tits, squeezing hard, his thumbs brushing your nipples until you shudder.

“these are mine now,” he says, his voice pure filth. “gonna mark ‘em up so you can’t hide.”

he’s close, too close, but he’s not done.

he pushes you off, gentle but firm, and stands, pulling you with him toward the full-length mirror by your closet. he spins you, pressing your chest to the glass, your hands splaying against it, your tear-streaked reflection staring back.

he kicks your legs apart, his cock nudging your entrance, and slides in, slow and deep, his breath hot against your ear. “look at you,” he says, his lips brushing your neck, his hands caging you against the mirror. “look at my cock ruining your pussy.”

he thrusts, slow at first, watching your reflection—your tears, your drool, your gloss-smeared lips, the way your body shakes with every snap of his hips. “you wanted a nerd? this nerd’s gonna fuckin’ break you.”

he fucks you harder, the mirror rattling, your moans bouncing off the walls, loud enough to wake the neighbors. “so fuckin’ pretty,” he pants, one hand slipping to your clit, rubbing messy, relentless circles. “gonna cum all over my cock, aren’t you? gonna make a mess for me?”

you nod, sobbing, your body trembling, and he slaps your ass, the sting sharp, making you clench around him. “say it, baby. tell me you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, voice breaking, tears streaming, and he cums with a raw groan, spilling inside you, hot and thick, his hips stuttering as he rides it out.

he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t stop, his cock still hard, still twitching as he fucks his cum deeper, the slick sound obscene. “not done,” he mutters, his glasses fogged, his voice wrecked. “gonna make you cum again.”

he keeps going, relentless, his thrusts slower but deeper, each one pushing his cum back inside, making you shake. his fingers on your clit are merciless, circling fast, and you’re oversensitive, your body convulsing, your moans turning to desperate cries. “satoru—fuck—too much—” you sob.

he only slaps your thigh, sharp and stinging, and leans in, his lips grazing your ear. “too much? nah, princess, you can take it. wanna feel you squirt for me.”

he angles his hips, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and you’re gone, your body locking up as you cum, a gush of wet heat soaking his cock, dripping down your thighs, pooling on the floor. he groans, loud and broken, his hips jerking as he cums again, another hot rush filling you, spilling out around him.

“fuck—look at that mess,” he pants, his hand smearing the slick between your legs, rubbing it into your skin. “all for me.”

but he’s not done. he pulls you back to the bed, laying you on your side, one leg hooked over his arm as he slides back in, his cock still hard, slick with your cum and his. “one more,” he begs, his voice cracking, his glasses crooked. “gimme one more, baby. need to feel you again.”

he thrusts slow, deep, his hand slipping between your legs to tease your oversensitive clit, and you’re crying, tears streaming, your body shaking from the intensity. he bites your neck, leaving marks, and whispers, “love it when you cry for me. so fuckin’ loud, just how i like it.”

he shifts, rolling you onto your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you into the mattress, his hand pressing your face into the sheets. “gonna cum all over you,” he growls, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. “gonna fill you up till you’re leaking me for days.”

you cum again, a shuddering, broken mess, your sobs muffled against the pillow, your body convulsing as you squirt again, weaker but still enough to soak the sheets. he cums with you, a third time, his groan hoarse, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, the mess dripping out, pooling under you.

“fuck—baby—” he gasps, his voice wrecked, his body shaking as he collapses against you, his glasses falling off completely, clattering to the floor.

“mine now,” he whispers, hoarse and ruined, his forehead pressed to your back, his breath hot and uneven. “you’re mine now.”

you nod, too spent to speak, your body limp, your reflection in the mirror a blur of tears and gloss and him, the phone still recording every ragged breath, every whispered “fuck” as he pulls you closer, not letting go.

but then silence swells, heavy and slow, filling the room like a fog. the air’s thick with the aftermath—sweat, cum, and the lingering sweetness of your perfume, still clinging to the sheets, to him.

satoru’s hands tremble where they hold you, one slipping down to fumble with his phone, stopping the recording with a clumsy tap, the other pressing flat against your stomach, grounding him, grounding you. your breaths are too loud, ragged and uneven, syncing in the quiet like a metronome.

he leans away slightly, just enough to grab a towel from the edge of your bed, awkward in the afterglow like he just realized he desecrated a temple. his glasses are gone, lost somewhere in the mess of sheets, and his hair’s a disaster, sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat.

“shit,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper, too quiet for the boy who was growling filth ten minutes ago. “did i—i mean. that wasn’t too much, right?” there’s a crack in his tone, a flicker of panic, like he’s replaying every thrust, every slap, every sobbed moan he pulled from you.

you don’t answer at first, too dazed, too wrung out, your body still humming from the overstimulation, your thighs sticky and trembling.

your silence makes him spiral.

“fuck, i knew it. i pushed too hard. i got carried away—i was recording—fuck—i didn’t even ask—” his words tumble out, frantic, his hand raking through his hair as he sits up, eyes wide, searching your face for any sign of regret.

you turn to face him, slow and sore, your cheek pillowed against your arm, the motion making your body ache in the best way. your eyes are still wet, lashes clumped with tears, lips kiss-bruised and sticky with half-worn gloss, swollen from his teeth. you stare at him—this boy, this dork, with his mussed-up hair and the panicked look of someone who just lived out a lifelong fantasy and now doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i’m okay,” you say, your voice shredded, raw from screaming his name. “jesus, i’m so okay.”

he exhales, a shaky rush of air, like he’s been holding it in for hours. he collapses back against you, burying his face in your neck, his lips brushing the bite mark he left earlier. “fuck, you scared me,” he mumbles, his voice muffled, warm against your skin. then, quieter, almost unhinged: “we just speedran my entire hentai folder.”

you laugh, a weak, breathy sound that bubbles up despite the ache in your ribs. “i know.”

“i didn’t even know i could,” he says, his voice small, like he’s confessing a sin. “i haven’t even done that in vr.”

you snort, the sound catching in your throat. “nerd.”

he groans, but it’s not annoyed—it’s mortified, the kind of sound that comes from knowing he’s exposed himself completely. “i’m never gonna recover from this. i glossed you like a fuckin’ bratz doll. i glossed you.” his hand gestures vaguely at your lips, still shiny and smeared, and you laugh again, the sound softer now, your body too tired for anything more.

you roll over fully, tugging him down into the blankets with you, the pastel sheets tangling around your legs. he follows like a kicked puppy, his head resting on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. you can feel his heart still racing, his body still trembling from the high.

“i just,” you mumble, your voice barely audible, “wanted you to notice me. back during the group project, you never looked at me. just your laptop. even when i wore that stupid short skirt.”

he goes silent, his fingers pausing where they’re tracing lazy circles on your hip. then, in a voice so small it barely carries: “…you wore that for me?”

you nod, your cheek brushing his hair.

he lets out the tiniest, most violated gasp, like you’ve just rewritten his entire reality. “i thought you were just one of those girls who always looked hot. like, default setting.” his voice cracks on the last word, and you can’t help the teasing smile that tugs at your lips.

“no,” you say, your tone playful despite the exhaustion. “i was trying to seduce the dumbass with the mecha desktop background.”

he muffles a sob into your chest, half-laugh, half-groan, his arms tightening around you. “i love mecha…” he says, like it’s the most tragic thing in the world, and you hum, stroking his hair, your fingers catching in the sweaty strands.

“i know.”

a long pause settles over you, the kind that feels like it could stretch forever. the fairy lights twinkle softly, casting shadows across the room, and your perfume lingers, mixing with the musk of sex. his breathing slows, but he doesn’t let go, his body still pressed to yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

then he lifts his head, his eyes serious, stripped of the wild edge they had before. “can i… hold you properly? not like—y’know—breeding press. like, real holding.” his cheeks flush, like he’s embarrassed to admit he wants something soft after all that.

“you already folded me in half like a love letter,” you whisper, but you shift into his arms anyway, letting him pull you close. he wraps around you, tight, needy, his hands trembling like he’s still processing you’re real, not just pixels on a screen. his hold is desperate, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you, every curve, every soft inch, in case this never happens again.

“don’t make fun of me,” he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “i think my crush on you just speedran into obsession.” there’s a rawness to it, a confession that feels too big for the quiet, but it lands soft, like he’s finally letting it out.

“you’re the one who begged for one more while crying into my shoulder,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“stop,” he groans, burying his face deeper, his arms tightening like he could squeeze the embarrassment out of himself. “i’m gonna die.”

you press a kiss to his forehead, slow and deliberate, your lips lingering on his sweaty skin. “you’re not gonna die,” you say, your tone soft but firm. “you’re gonna eat me out on friday and wear your glasses while you do it.”

he whimpers, a pathetic, needy sound, his hips twitching involuntarily against your thigh. “say less,” he mumbles, his voice wrecked, but there’s a spark in it, like you’ve just lit something in him again. you giggle, wrapping your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your skin sticking to his in the humid air.

and in the quiet, as you’re both drifting off—sore, sticky, still catching your breath—he says it again. not ruined this time, not even possessive. just low. certain. like he’s already planning his next sin.

“mine.”

you don’t answer. just smile into the pillow, heart pounding. because maybe you are. and maybe you’ll let him prove it again.

especially once he finds out what cosplay you ordered last week.

friday’s going to be filthy.

[grimmjow]

6 months of the year i wear over ear headphones, but i wear em so much it eventually cause my hair to thin out where they sit

so for 6 months after that i wear in ear headphones (which i hate everything is so loud 😔) till the hair grows back long enough to blend with the rest of my hair

Then i switch Back to over ear headphones till-

[rivzai]

⋅ ˚. ⋆ student id cards ☆ [figma file]

hi guys! i've been silent for a while but no worries as i am back! consider is a thank you gift for all the milestones i've reached so far. these student id cards are from this post of mine for my discover uni save. it got alot more attention than expected so i decided to release the files, enjoy. if you aren't familiar with figma, there is a tutorial below the cut.

⋅ ˚. ⋆ terms of usage feel free to edit to your liking! please do not reclaim as your own/reupload :( if you use, please, please, please. give me credit! a tag would be nice ⋅ ˚. ⋆ required font: sims sans headline bold (originally found on sims community, however post is now deleted. link will be on my patreon) the figma app, not the desktop website.

⋅ ˚. ⋆ download ☆ [patreon, always free]

⋅ ˚. ⋆ small tutorial for those unfamiliar with figma

after downloading the figma app and logging in, all you would need to do is just open the file provided.

after doing sO, it'll prompt you to import the file into space. choose whichever one works out for you.

once you've finished that, it'll take a while for it to load. give it some time, it wont take that long

afterwards just go ahead and press done

this is what you should see after opening it up. it looks scary but do not be alarmed, photoshop is harder lol

i went ahead and made it easier for you to change the names, and etc. so just follow this gif.

aaaand almost the same thing to change the picture as well

now that you've finished putting in the details, time to export it!

and just like that, ur done!

⋅ ˚. ⋆ download ☆ [patreon, always free]

[phantomrose96]

Honestly I recommend everyone learn just a littttle bit of CSS because it really is powerful and just makes bits and pieces of your internet experience more convenient.

Right now I'm cataloguing recipes I've really enjoyed, just trying to get them all in one place. Many of these are instagram recipes and, because I don't trust link rot (aka the possibility that the instagram link goes dead one day), I'm including a screenshot of the recipe along with the link.

But instagram on desktop... looks like this

(Link, for credit. It's a good recipe)

I obviously could just copy-paste the recipe out of there. But a screenshot would be cleaner for how I'm cataloguing these.

And as-is, I'd have to scroll the whole height of that small right-side window about 4 times to fit it all.

But actually... I can just resize that div holding that whole right-side content

Basically I

hit f12 to open the dev tools

clicked the element finder

clicked on an element inside the recipe side

followed it up the tree until I found the element holding the whole recipe side (do this by hovering the div in the dev tools panel way on the right, then hovering upward and up until I find the element which is the highest up that still only contains the recipe-side content)

in the element.style part, set "width: 1000px" and "height: 1500px"

(I notice the width seems to still be less than 1000px, even though it got bigger)

likely suggests there's an element above it with a max-width set

go up the tree higher until I find the element with the max-width and uncheck that style

screenshot ready

Maybe that sounded complicated but it took me probably 20-30 seconds

And this isn't just about screenshotting recipes like.

website with an annoying gif? select gif, delete gif

do you want a clean screenshot of a digital receipt for record-keeping without a large company banner or irrelevant information? delete unnecessary elements, adjust widths, screenshot

SOMETIMES, you can bypass paywalls if they're relying on something like overflow: hidden, or an overlay in the way, or some JS that runs (you can disable JS in the dev tools)

lost the jpg/png file you used for your profile picture and size doesn't totally matter? grab it from the img src while logged in. (you might even be able to find it in a bigger size by changing the url query parameters)

color contrast on an article really bad? find and change background color. find and change font color

want to make a funny fake screenshot without learning photoshop? just edit the page content in the dev tools

This isn't about like being good enough to write scripts or browser extensions. Really if you just have some basic HTML/CSS understanding a hat worth of tricks, you can make so many little adjustments in your favor.

[knightyoomyoui]

[SMUT] TWICE Tzuyu x Male Reader - "First Time"

Here's a Tzuyu smut for 2024, which is the first and one of my two remaining smut fics left before I offically end my TWICE smut anthology series. I guess I can't give that much hint already for what's gonna be the final one, since I feel that you guys know already if I say that it would be my toughest challenge so far on both writing one-shot fanfic and a smut genre respectively. Just noticed that simply my main agenda right now after returning for my hiatus is to finish everything I've left behind that are this close from being complete, and it all starts here. Enjoy reading, you horndogs lol. WARNING: mature content, contains smut, +18 WORD COUNT: 5800+ TAGS: friends with benefits, vanilla sex, masturbation, oral sex, thigh fuck, blowjob, pussy licking, ass eating, fluff, doggystyle, anal, body worship

Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

You are heavily concentrated on the project that you are currently working on your desktop. It was already 11PM and you haven't had any dinner yet since you're the type of person who wants to finish a work when so invested in just one sitting.

Stretching your back on your swivel chair for a second after you switched to another template in your editing application, you heard your doorbell rang from outside. It surprised you because it's unlikely to have visitors at this rate of time.

Eyeing the heavy long metal beside your door, you carefully made your walk through the door and braced yourself to open it. Gripping the doorknob tight, you slowly turn it. Before you were about to swung it open, a familiar voice spoke from the outside, even surprising you more.

"Y-YN a-are you still there?"

She might have probably seen the lights from your windows still open, and essentially confirming if you are still awake inside or not anymore as she knows that you can sleep on either the lights are off or on, and she's aware also of what time is it already for her to do this.

Any threat or risks that you felt was completely swooped away when you heard her voice. Opening the door wide, there you saw your bestfriend Tzuyu standing in front of you.

As she raises her head, your eyes caught a glimpse of her own... and it doesn't share the same good condition. Her looks baggy, reddish, and... watery.

"Tzuyu, what brings you here?" You asked her curiously. "A-and... did you cried?"

Tzuyu nodded and in a swift moment, she slowly comes up to you and hugged you. You were dumbstrucked at her actions and what happened to her that made her be like this, but what matters first is that this poor lady in your arms definitely needs some comfort.

Raising your arm, you gently patted and rubbed her back as you let her pour all her tears on your shoulder. "Just let it out, Tzuyu. I  don't know what is going on, but I'm here for you okay?"

That's the reason why Tzuyu primarily chose to come right at you whenever she needs help. You were just there all the time for her, and it's so rare for people to make an alloted time for their special someone to accompany them whenever they need to.

"Let's go inside, it's already late." You invited her in to the house. She quickly followed and remove her grasp at you as you paved the way for her to enter.

She stepped inside, and you closed the door. "Let's go there." You pointed at the couch next to your workplace.

Tzuyu silently followed your command before she finally spoke as she got to sit comfortably. "Thanks for this, YN." Her voice was shaky and rough.

"What happened, Tzuyu? Is something wrong going on?" You asked her as you poured some hot glass of milk and cookies for her. "I know you always come by for my help but I didn't expect you to be here in the middle of the night."

"I-it's my parents." She wiped her tears off and clasped her hands together, laying them down on her lap. "They're having another huge miscommunication again. It's been like that for almost a week already, and I can't stand it anymore seeing them like that. I had enough, that's why I decided to run away and come seek for a place to stay in... through you."

You understood her purpose of appearing here immediately. "And you're free to stay here whenever you want, I'll do everything for my friend." Tzuyu smiled at that, but almost sincere as she felt slightly different at that statement. "What was your parents arguing about, if I may ask?"

"It's about my dad going out frequently these days looking for some cash to borrow from. I think he's been into loaning for sometime, much less to our knowledge. He got fired from work when the company he was working in decided not to accept everyone who has a health condition due to safety regulations, and he got both detected that he has acute diabetes and is already middle aged." Tzuyu began to explain.

"My mom was a stylist at a salon but her salary wasn't enough now for just us to sustain because we need it now too for my dad's treatment. Then, just now, they got into an argument when my mom learns that my dad was secretly making loan from most people these days without her permission. You know how loan sharks can be dangerous, right? But my dad just defended that he just want to do something for us to still gain money and he doesn't want to stay at home doing nothing for her family."

Tzuyu started to tear up once again, from the mixed emotions she's having from both of her parent's side in their tough situation. You once again assisted her by giving her a clean cloth to wipe her tears away. "Now I get it. I do understand your father's point though. It's hard for a parent to just find their selves doing nothing when they know the hard time their family must've been going through.

It's their responsibility to take care and provide their daily needs, and not doing that so will ick them uncomfortably. Even if doing loans was also quite not a good idea, atleast you can see how your father loves you and your mom. Your mom was just angry at your fad because she doesn't want him to get in danger once he couldn't be able to pay all his dues in no time."

Tzuyu nodded at you, pinpointing all the comments you have to say regarding her concern, as it makes sense anyway. "I was starting to consider to help them by looking for some job to do to earn money for them, but I'm not that decided yet plus... I don't really feel it yet to engage at work while I'm still studying you know."

"Ahh, the fear that you might be unable to do both of them simulteanously, huh. You don't want to fail your grades, isn't it?"

"Yeah." You were right. You know Tzuyu to be actually a smart girl based from the earlier times when you first met her and your experience of her being your classmate. She has a lot of potential, but what you like about her is that she's careful on using those and avoid the possibility of wasting it on the wrong time.

"You know what, save it for tomorrow. You should go to rest, you look unsettled at the moment. It's already midnight." You mentioned as you looked once again in her droopy eyes and gloomy demeanor. "We can talk about this again for tomorrow."

"T-thank you again, YN." You nodded for her gratitude. "Stay here, okay? You want to watch TV?" She agreed. You opened it for her. "Entertain yourself there with your milk and cookies, I'll be just finish my task here."

She obliged, and she lets you do your thing there on the desktop. Minutes have passed, and with all those glances Tzuyu has been giving on your busy self, she began to get curious at what actually you are doing.

She stood from her seat and approaches you. Peeking at the monitor of your computer, you were shocked when she ducked next to your side, her pretty face almost inches away from you.

Your fingers nervously types from the keyboard and moves the mouse as you just let her observe what you are doing. "What's for the edit?"

"Commission." You simply answered. "Client requested to create a presentation for her upcoming thesis research. She has no other time left because she spent too much researching and revising her topic. Good thing she already has parts prepared for me to input for each slides."

Tzuyu hummed. She continues to watch you do your work while also admiring the fact that you are doing a sideline also apart from your current education. "So you are part-timing too?"

"Freelancing to be exact. I'm the one who looks for clients and offer service. Mostly editing, as you can see."

You started to sense the purpose pf her inquiry. "You know Tzuyu, my only advice about what you're planning is that you are doing right. Don't rush about it. If you don't feel the passion of it then don't head straight. It's hard to do something that you didn't even feel doing in the first place."

Tzuyu keeps that in mind. "Can I put up some suggestions?"

"Sure do. Would love to hear it from you."

She then began to point out some more details she can imagine in her head and you judged it with her by trying it on your work. It almost took half an hour before you finally finish it, saving you some more time of impring your butt too much on the chair for sitting too long and tiring yourself up.

Fortunately, Tzuyu helped you to wrap up early. "Oh wow, I didn't know you were so good at designing. Tzuyu, I swear I see some potential in you."

Tzuyu blushed and became embarassed. "Damn it, YN. Stop fluttering me." You chuckled and awwed at her cuteness. "But thank you."

"You should consider freelancing too, maybe you can attract a client that pays a lot but I hope you can endure the huge assignment."

"I'll take note of it." She nodded. You noticed that she already emptied her milk and cookies. "Cmon, let's get you to your room for tonight."

Tzuyu followed you and both ended up in a bedroom that is cozy and suitable enough for a single person to be used. "You can sleep on the bed, I'll be here on my extra cushion here."

She gasped and became shy at your gentleman act. "B-but, YN... this is y-your room. I'm fine-"

"No buts, no ifs. You are a woman who should be treated with respect. Now please, you can take mine for the night."

You were about to set up the cushion on the floor but Tzuyu tugged your arm. "Yes?"

"C-can you just stay with me on the bed?"

You became speechless at her request. The fact that you are about to sleep with Tzuyu close to you has effectively boosted the blood cursing through your body, creating goosebumps on your skin. You became red and flustered about it.

"W-what? Why?"

"I- I can't sleep without hugging something." Tzuyu pouted.

"I have an extra pillow though."

"I need something big that fits me to cuddle." Her voice became even more softer. You sweared that your heart is about to melt. "I have a life-sized bear that my mom bought for me since I was a kid on my home but I don't want to go back there for now. So... c-can you be my cuddle bear for now, if you might?"

You sighed heavily at how Tzuyu looks so pure and beautiful pleading at you with her puppy eyes and that mellow visuals. This is what's pulling you back: it's your freaking crush and the idea of sleeping with her on the same space, same bed is what's unraveling your lack of composure.

But you don't want your friend to be sad and disappointed because of your stubborness. "Alright, fine. You can hug me in your sleep."

"Yay! Thank you, YN!"

Both of you laid down on the bed you turned around with Tzuyu facing your back, as you can't endure much longer seeing her face too long, although it would be a delight to have such this wonderful sight before you sleep and to wake up in the morning.

She wraps her arms at your waist and hugged you tightly. You blushed when you felt her soft breasts squished on your upper back, sending your heart to race. She buries her face at the crook of your neck before sending a chilling whisper close to your ear.

"Goodnight, YN."

"G-goodnight, Tzu..." You breathily replied before you and her doze off to slumber.

The next morning, Tzuyu woke up first than you. Her eyes slowly opened, regaining her sight, and the first thing she saw was your side-profile. You were now laying flat on your back beside her.

She indulges the pleasant view of your peaceful state, smiling on her own happiness to have such an amazing friend and an irresistable crush like you. Although her frown began to shape from her lips when she remembered the reality that she is still uncertain if you do feel the same for her.

Intaking this moment of you and her in one bed, nothing around but a room filled of silence and being struck by the bright sunlight of the morning. She looked at your bodies laying together until her eyebrows furrow when she spotted something strange under you.

Tzuyu saw a hump-shaped formed onto the blanket that is covering your lower blanket. She was curious to see what it is as she noticed how it almost seemed like it's moving.

Taking off the blanket around you, it had her thinking twice if what she just did is not right at all.

But that doesn't mean she didn't like it at all.

Tzuyu was staring at the source of that hump, and that is coming from your short that is having a tent marked on your crotch.

Unlike from the blanket, what she's looking at was even more obvious at what shape it is. It was long, large and diagonally laying down, measuring it as it reaches down to the upper part of your thigh.

Tzuyu was blushing hard as she realized that she just witnessed you having the most common thing for boys: a morningwood. You have no idea at all that you have a woman beside you who is clearly seeing how hard you can get with whatever reason it may be.

She became so curious, almost deciding if she'll take a touch of it to found out what it feels. Her hands raised up and fidgeting to go forward onto your crotch.

That is, until she got interrupted when she shrieked a little as she saw you moved, and your new position got her swallowing her threat and nervousness crawling inside.

You are now laying sideways, with your front figure now facing her. Tzuyu can feel your morningwood pressing against her bare thighs, and she swear that it's driving her hormones crazy when her skin can feel the warmth of your covered erected cock laying down on her touch.

"He feels so big, oh my goodness." Tzuyu whispered. She even teased it by gently bouncing your cock on her thigh by moving it up and down slowly. Her thighs start to rub with each other as she is beginning to become horny.

"N-no... control yourself, Tzu. You don't want to end up harassing your friend while sleeping. This isn't right." Tzuyu quickly shook her head before carefully removing herself away from your side, standing up from the bed.

As she is now on her feet, she glanced downwards and noticed a wet spot on her shorts. She was shocked to see that she got easily wet thinking about your elongated cock earlier. It had her panicked and rushed quickly at the bathroom to aid this.

Minutes later, you woke up after still in your morning wood, not having any clue that Tzuyu seen that beast earlier. You tried to fixed it by repositioning it on your boxers and hid it under the hem of your shirt.

You exit the bedroom and saw Tzuyu preparing your breakfast on the table. "Wow, Tzuyu I wasn't expecting that you'll be the one to cook." You chuckled as you saw the mouthwatering scrambled eggs and fried rice with the plates.

"Well, I don't want to do nothing while staying here you know. I want to remain productive too." Tzuyu smiled. Her eyes glided down to your shorts and remembering what she just saw almost distracted the stability of her mind. "G-good morn-ning, YN.", she awkwardly greeted you.

"Good morning too, Tzu. Let's eat?"

The two of you began to eat and start some random topics to talk during your breakfast. After both were finished, you volunteered to do some dishes while Tzuyu asks permission to take a shower in which you granted and willingly let her borrow your spare clothes for the meantime.

While you on your way back to the kitchen to grab a new clean rug from your storage area, you heard something that catched your attention from the bathroom door. Your hearing is very sharp and sensitive that's why you can immediately catch on the sounds around you.

And this one is a bit surprising and... enticing. You pressed your ear closer at the door and there you heard loud and clear the sound of someone moaning inside. It definitely is coming from Tzuyu and judging from the noise she's creating, you probably guessed that she must be doing something to satisfy her needs: and you cannot believe it that you have your girl bestfriend masturbating in the bathroom of your own freaking house.

You quickly rushed away out of the door when you noticed that the noise stopped. As you returned to the kitchen, you gently massaged your cock getting hard from that sultry noise.

Is s-she... Fuck, I'm getting turned on with my friend masturbating. Goddamn, control it YN. You don't want her to caught you acting lewd." You hissed yourself before continuing with your dishes.

Tzuyu emerged from the bathroom, just as time you finished washing dishes. You sheepishly avoided her by quickly grabbing your towel and take your turn next at the bathroom to shower.

 As you stepped inside after closing the door to see Tzuyu sitting on the couch and looking at her phone, you looked around your bathroom and had you imagined Tzuyu doing her own business earlier in this exact spot.

It made you rush quickly on taking a bath while fighting with the urge to masturbate by squeezing and massaging your cock and balls with soap, basically edging yourself away from doing so.

It was then you finished, you realized that you forgot to bring your clothes with you at your rush. "I have to be quick."

You opened the door and was about to dash outside when it shocked you that Tzuyu was walking at the same direction as you, emerging out from the kitchen, resulting in her to collide at your naked body. Her feet accidentally pulled your towel after she slumped backwards to control her balance, causing your towel to unveil your lower part.

Both became speechless and flustered as you realized that your largened cock has now exposed to Tzuyu's innocent eyes. You tried to cover it with your hands despite it's massive size. "O-OH SHIT,  TZUYU DON'T LOOK!"

You exclaimed to her but instead she remained staring, gawking at it's size. "Oh my god please turn around, i'll take back my towel. I'm so s-"

"You don't have to, I've seen it already."

"Huh?"

Your face crumpled in confusion at what Tzuyu said. "I-I've seen your thing a while ago after I woke up and I noticed that it's... h-hard. It's bulging on your boxers that I was concerned it might break it by itself."

"And I-I felt bad about it, I- I almost want to help it..." Tzuyu slowly steps forwards, removes your hands from blocking it and returns her sight at your cock now pointing at her, she inspects how it throbs everytime her eyes stare longer at it. "T-Tzuyu wait..."

"Does it give you difficulty right now, YN? I-I'm willing to help you, if you d-don't mind." Tzuyu looked at you with her mischievous soft demeanor. You gasped at her offer.

"But Tzuyu, are you sure about that? This is so embarassing but..."

"Hmm?"

"I don't have a problem w-with it, it's just that... oh God I can't form my words coming out of my mouth well!"

"Don't stress yourself, you said it already." Tzuyu shushed you as she patted your chest. She leaned at your face and landed a surprise kiss on you, making your eyes widen and jaw drop more at her action. "For now, just let me repay you in return for helping me by doing t-the same for you~"

She slowly lowered herself down to her knees, now kneeling in front of you. Her eyes and now leveled equally with your cock facing at her. She bit her lips and viewed at it with mesmerizing gazes. "I've only seeing these from the internet, and I was so right that to see this in personal is a much better deal to admire. I might get addicted with this."

Her hands surrounded the thickness of your cock. She slowly pulls it and bends it upwards, tightening her grip before she starts pumping it in a dangerously slow pace. She heard your deep sigh and looked upwards to see your face floating in cloud nine.

"Does it feel good, YN?"

"Y-yeah, it does. God, it's so much better than using my own hand."

Tzuyu smiled at that compliment. She started to stroke you even more, her fist kept that grip before her other available hand started to come to play too, targeting your testicles.

Your hanging huge balls got fondled with care. "It feels so full and heavy, YN." She pointed out. "Are you even doing it?"

"Y-yeah..." you said as you started to hold her hair and rub it gently.

"How often?"

"J-just... two times in a week, sometimes months." Your breath became raggy as she began increasing the speed of her fists jacking off your thick meat. "Oh god, Tzu..."

"Are you ready, YN?"

"For what?"

She didn't had to reply verbally, but instead gave you the answer orally by circling your mushroom head leaking pre-cum already with her tongue.

"S-shit! I'm sensitive t-there, oh!" You gasped loud as Tzuyu continues to do foreplay on your helpless cock, licking the entire length and juggling each of your balls with her puckered mouth.

After feeling satisfied, she now puts your entire meat inside her mouth and starts bobbing her head off. She fucked herself with an increasing force until her nose is now touching your groin.

Tzuyu pointed at her head and hair to signal you something in which you understood right away. You gripped it and started doing the favor on your own by fucking her mouth with your own choosing of speed.

Your desire on having such lustful act with Tzuyu is making you overwhelm, urging you to participate further in this with her. With the tightening of your groin, you mercilessly pounded her face to race through the end.

"I'm cumming, Tzuyu. Where do you want me in?"

Tzuyu just pointed at her throat. Few pumps and that's all it took for you to blast off your warm seed, filling up her mouth with your load that was saved up for months of your inactivity to ejaculate.

She slowly lets go of your cock with a loud pop before cleaning her lips with the remaining traces of cum left. "We can do it right here, but my pussy is unavailable for now. I-I don't want to get pregnant y-yet..."

"It's fine, Tzuyu. I respect that." You got her point. She must be fearing that she might cause additional stress for her parents in the middle of their financial crisis just to assist her on supporting her pregnancy and the child's needs once she gave birth to it.

You took a mental note that now you're having sex with her, a necessary caution would be required first to perform to ensure the safety.

"But that doesn't mean we can't pleasure ourselves anymore without that. You can still use my body... wear condoms, but only for this another hole I got behind me." She said as she stood up and turned her back on you, making her posture upright as she presents you her ass and rubbing it on your cock.

You had enough of her teasing, you lifted her shirt up and pulled her through her torso. Your hands climbed up to her bra-covered boobs. They are average sized at it's finest, perfect enough to fit in your palm.

You unclasped her bra and removed it around her, now playing on her naked tits while you devoured her neck with supple kisses. She purred and yelped at the sensation she's getting from you pleasing her.

Your fingers pinched and twirling her nipples before you turned her around and made her kiss you. You carried her body and brought her on the couch while she is wrapped around you.

You sat on the couch with her on your lap. Letting go of her lips, you then head on to her breasts by give the attention it deserves, sucking and licking the light-brown delectable areolas and nipples that she have while massaging each it to intensify the pleasure.

Tzuyu was just moaning at your active mouth running around her sensitive area. Your hands then moved around her ass as you kneaded her cheeks from her short before you hooked on the waistband and removed it from her legs.

Her now exposed underwear is the only garment she has left. She crawled on the bed and went all fours. You switched behind her and kneeled, facing her alluring ass as you removed her underwear and took a sniff on it.

Her asshole and the outline of her restricted pussy is now visible to your hungry eyes. Without no more hesitation, you rubbed yourself around her cheeks, making her gasp at the air that you blew from your nose and mouth having in contact with her private areas, tickling her into goosebumps.

You start licking her pussy, wiggling her outer walls before you spreaded it with your fingers then inserted it inside, making Tzuyu scream in surprise. Your mouth then worked next on her hole and sucked on each of her cheeks to grab a taste of her cake.

"Mmmhhmmphhh yeah you're so good at this, YN oh fuck~" she said while grinding her ass across your face and feel your fingers pumping back and forth in her pussy. She started to shiver when you quickened your movement, leaving her in a screaming, groaning mess.

"Ughhh yes fuck fuck fuck YN i'm so close, keep that fingers deep within me~" Tzuyu purred as she gripped tight at the back of the couch, enduring the huge pleasure being provided to her by her dear bestfriend.

"I'm cumming, i'm cumming on your face YN!" Tzuyu yelled before she squirted her love nectar straight to your awaiting face and mouth, tasting and slurping her juices as you slowly rode her orgasm out with slow fingering.

You didn't let Tzuyu to recover some more time as you stood up and jerked your cock at the gaps of her ass. "Are you ready, Tzu?"

"Yes, please. I can take it. I want it to be you, YN. You're the only one I trust."

"I'm glad so, Tzuyu. Tell me if I need to stop okay?"

She nodded. You directed your tip to her entrance and slowly entered. You heard Tzuyu groaned as each inch are now pressing her hole.

"A-ah wait, YN let me adjust." Tzuyu hissed and fixed her position in all fours. "Alright, continue."

You gently pushed deeper and now your cock is inside her ass. You started to move, and you gasped at how tight her ass feels around you, feeling the way she clench when your crotch bumps at her ass.

Sensing that this makes it even feel much better fucking her, you started clapping her ass as you feel like it. Tzuyu just continues to blabber random words of praises and constant moans while your speed changes from rough to vanilla.

Her sultry, sexy voice has reduced to a hum when she felt another splash of wamrth inside of her, but this time in her hole as you shoot another load of cum on her ass with regards to safety of commiting sex with her.

As you pulled out, you saw some few overflow out of her asshole. You gritted your teeth in guilt. "I-i'm sorry, I think I may have done it too much."

Tzuyu giggled and sighed at your considerate behavior. "Don't feel too bad about it, YN. It just means that you really gave it all... which is what I really want from you." She winked.

You blushed before standing back up. "I'm gonna go grab some tissue." You said as you left her for a while before going back to wipe the remaining cum on her ass to keep the couch left unstained with the smell of sex.

"Want to go for one more round?" She challenged you with a smirk as she sat properly beside you, crossing her legs.

"I'm in. What do you want next?"

"Hmm, I think it's time for you to decide for this one. I'm already satisfied with my own cravings, now it's your turn." Tzuyu said, posing herself like she's in deep thoughts. "May I ask you one? What part of my body do you actually admire?"

You traced her naked body but there's this one specific part that drives you crazy whenever you get hynoptized at it's perfect shape and thickness. "If i'm going to be honest, your best gift that was sculpted by the gods for you is your heavenly thighs, Tzu." You swayed your head while whistling at how magnificent it looks.

"Tell me more about it." She flirtatiously whispered at you while playing with your hair.

"I love your ass, those cute tits and that talented mouth too, but your thighs are just too immaculate. Too unmatchable. It's so jiggly..." You started to ran your hands around her well-built thighs. "So smooth, so thick... I would be really honored to be suffocated in these damn pillows."

"Now you gave me an idea to show me what more of these can do." Tzuyu winked. She reaches for your semi-limp cock, awakening it back to it's full size by flicking her fingers around the bulbous head. Her legs shifted above your lap, with your cock sandwiched between those voluptuous thighs to die for.

"And you are very lucky to experience such a rare service coming from such Thighwanese beauty." She smirks before she squishes your hardened cock and strokes its skin with her thighs by lifting both her legs up and down.

"Ugh... mmmphh oh~" You moaned at the relaxing feeling of her thick thighs pumping off your shaft, eager to empty your remaining load you got. Tzuyu was enjoying the sight of yourself trapped and savoring the sensation of her strongest exual appeal.

"How does it feel having my thighs wrapped around your big cock, YN?"

"It's amazing..." You shut your eyes and gasped heavily at the feeling. "Shit, I can't hold much longer if you're doing like this to me Tzu!"

"Cum. Cum for me, YN. Let it out."

You assisted her legs on stroking you by holding her ankles while you buckle your hips, banging her juicy thighs smeared with your pre-cum as it ripples from the impact until you shoot another stream of sticky cum all over it including her knees.

Tzuyu lets you rest as she removes her legs from you and scooped all your cum on her fingers before eating it. She also cleaned your softening cock in payback to what you did to her ass a while ago, sucking it off until no drops are left.

She laid her head beside your arm and cuddled at your body. "I'm sorry if this is too sudden, YN. I got carried away that I started to act like this."

"It's fine, Tzu. You just wanted to destress, let's say in such different way." You nodded. "But it doesn't matter, as long as I get to make you happy and satisfied, I'm always open to accompany you."  You smiled at her and caressed her hair. However, it disappointed when you changed from becoming serious.

"And also, I should be thanking you too Tzuyu for this moment. I've only done this for the first time with a woman, and... to be honest I have to dare myself saying this to you that... you are my ideal girl. The one that I admire for months now. The one that my heart only prefers." Your confession was heard in such clear and simple statement by Tzuyu, and she was very strucked and touched listening at your words.

"And what we did means so much to me because I get to do it with the girl that I love, although it saddens me to think if do you even feel the same as mine. I know I could've confessed to you in a much better setting and better time but I just want to express it all right now to clarify that these isn't just driven from lust, but through my sincere admiration for you that is swirling inside my heart. I love you, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu pursed her lower lip and smiled sweetly at your message. She holds your hands and looked dearly at you. "I'm relieved to know that this is both our first-time having sex together. I was a bit nervous and shy at first but I just let my desire and desperate need of your touch control me, and I'm also glad that it has to be you too, YN. I couldn't imagine other deserving man than only you who I can allow take my virginity."

She went forward and turned your face at her to perform another passionate kiss. "Because I love you too, YN and I will cherish this moment that we did."

"Through that, I must take responsibility for this too. Now shall I ask you something then?" You said.

"Go on." She chuckled.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Tzuyu?"

She grinned brightly at your initiation. "I would be very willing to."

After your heated session with Tzuyu, both of you went to wash yourselves again while doing another quickie session after can't stop getting enough yet with your insatiable bodies.

Now back on getting dressed up, you and Tzuyu proceeded to discuss about her family problem story where you have finally lended some advices for her that might be helpful about their current situation.

More than a week later, you helped her to return back on their home after saving enough courage to confront her parents. When they saw her made her heading back to their home, the married Chou couple welcomed their daughter as they have now settled into peace.

Tzuyu and you then decided to maintain their relationship secret for the meantime as they start to date and explore their affection for each other further. You are also planning to accompany her on looking for a part-time job after she decided that she really needs it, as she prepares herself to balance it with her studies. Not forgetting this kind of relationship you established with her, you and Tzuyu would proceed to fulfill more of your fantasies together mostly taken place at your home like pleasuring yourselves in other various positions that involves rimming, entertaining yourself when one of you is bored by feasting on her pussy, boobs and your cock, or even your most favorite of them all: compressing your face in between her flawless ass and thighs until you end up unconscious.

[talesof-old]

breaking | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x gn!reader

warning(s): angst, breakups, leaving long term relationships, implied unfaithfulness (james doesn’t actually cheat), other woman lily evans, reader deserves better, idk this isn’t proofread or edited, they could never make me hate you lily

word count: 1.2k

a/n: sorry this took me so long, i’ve been teaching myself to crochet and i’m also trying to leave my current job

masterlist

james potter + relationship breakup + no happy ending

It used to be easy, saying James Potter was the best boyfriend you’d ever had.

He’d gone out of his way to shower you in affection and prove himself a capable partner. He’d remembered every important date, what your favorite things were, and why you hated the things you hated. James had been perfect.

You leaned back in your chair. Pieces of parchment littered the desktop, ink staining the expensive wood. You’d given up on caring. A glance at the clock on the wall gave you the time.

22:15.

You huffed. Date night, James had said, like that would fix whatever this was.

This, really, was a wedge driven in unknowingly by one Miss Lily Evans. You couldn’t blame her, really. If you’d asked, she would back away from her friendship with James and be perfectly content. That’s what made it so hard to hate her. She liked you, and would do anything to maintain your friendship.

Instead, like a fool, you’d believed James when he said he’d be home early to have dinner with you. After an hour had passed you’d changed out of your nice clothes and into a pair of pajamas, choosing to work to pass the time. About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door open.

In shuffled a weary James, glasses askew and hair messy. Your heart clenched. Here stood the boy (now man) you’d given your heart to years ago. Here he was, breaking it.

“Hey.” Your voice filled the dimly light room, echoing in the bare corners like some evil spirit.

He looked up at you, eyes blinking owlishly as he tugged off his shoes. It took just a second for the image of you to register. His lips twisted into a guilty grimace, though you weren’t sure he was genuinely regretful.

As he approached, you were hit with a wave of floral and ink perfume. You sighed. Lily’s perfume, which she’d found sometime during your time at Hogwarts and stuck to, was far from unfamiliar. It suited her beautifully, though currently it clung to your skin like aa unwanted disease.

“I’m sorry, we got caught up at the pub.” You nodded. The boys night Sirius had proposed. To forget everything going on for one night. Perhaps you should’ve told James just to stay at your friends’ flat tonight instead.

“We had plans.” Your voice wavered, the telltale sign of tears burning your throat. James nodded solemnly. He made to reach for you, but seemed to second guess himself as you shied away.

“I’m sorry, honey, but Pads wanted to stay-“

“Okay.” The finality in your tone had him pausing, brow furrowed. You moved then, gathering up your papers as tears pricked at your eyes. The rational part of you knew that you needed to speak up about your feelings in order to make a change, but you also didn’t feel like you should have to. James made plans with you, his partner; surely that was just as important?

“I’m going to bed.”

Defeat swirled in your gut. Tomorrow, you’d call Mary. If she couldn’t give you advice, she’d at least help you pack up your things.

“Honey, please.” Something desperate filled his tone. You clicked your tongue to distract yourself from the heaviness in your chest. James stepped forward.

“I just lost track of time, promise. I’ll make it up to you.” You shook your head. This was the make up. This was the second chance. Not a single bone in your body wanted to give him a third. It wasn’t fair to expect you to continue to shatter your heart just for him. You cared more about yourself than that to let it continue.

“You already made a promise like that James, don’t lie to me.” Irritation flashed across his face.

“I’m not lying.” You huffed, clutching your papers in your hands. You’d leave the ink. He’d probably need it more than you.

“Merlin, You told me that the last time, James. What else am I supposed to believe?” He ran a hand through his messy curls. “I don’t understand.”

An incredulous expression took up residence on your face. You blinked furiously as you looked at him.

“What don’t you understand? You come home to me after missing an apology dinner, smelling like another woman. Lily Evans no less.” Venom laced itself through the words as you spoke them. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. Muscles tensed as he took in the anger in your eyes. You didn’t often get angry, not like this.

“Lily is my friend, I won’t let you make me feel like shit for spending time with her.” You threw your hands up in the air. The clock down the hallway ticked away, eating at you as you turned away from him.

“I never asked that of you, don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” Tears finally spilled over your cheeks. He scoffed.

“At least look at me.”

You whirled around, eyes glassy and lip trembling. Frustration rose. Here you were, crying over the loss of a relationship that hadn’t even ended yet. You swiped at the tear tracks.

“Why? I can’t do this anymore James. I love you, really, but it isn’t fair for me to have to keep asking you to occasionally put me first.” James wore an expressionless look as you spoke. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, an unsteadying drum to your own heartache.

“I do. I don’t understand where this is coming from.” A forlorn feeling took root in your stomach. He didn’t understand. Maybe you were fooling yourself, thinking you could work through this one. After everything, it was too much to bear.

“Alright.” He furrowed his dark brows.

“I’ll ask Mary if she can swing by tomorrow and help me pack up my things.” He startled, reaching for you once more. A sob caught in your throat as he gripped your shoulders. The soft florals of Lily’s perfume engulfed you.

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

Something undecipherable had leaked into James’ words, panicked and shaky as he searched your face. All he found was resignation. You were giving up. James shook his head, licking his lips and leaning down to stare directly into your teary eyes.

“You’re leaving me?”

You let out a breathy laugh, humorless and cold as it curled around your ears.

“You spend more time with Lily than me these days. I won’t fight for someone who isn’t doing the same.” You watched as his face fell. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words fell from his lips. You knew he couldn’t defend himself from the truth; at the very least, he couldn’t defend himself from this truth.

You spoke again. “I love you.”

You pried yourself from his tense grasp and made your way back to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom for privacy. After tomorrow, you’d no longer be in a relationship. James would no longer be your boyfriend, and peace would have to be made. You shared too many friends for the opposite to be an option. You sighed, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

When did it all go wrong?

[teslasucks37]

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), Jerkin it (imaginings of sex), afab!reader (they/them pronouns and referral to them being Non-Binary), alcohol usage, Streamer!Reader, OnlyFans!Reader, Dom!Charlie I suppose, Lengthy descriptions of edits based on real edits I’ve watched 100 times, Cringy use of a song in a fanfic with the lyrics actually typed out but to be cringe is to be free, Named!Reader (Functions more like a Charlie x OC but oh well), Desperate!Charlie, Horny!Charlie, DownBad!Charlie, Despite his horny I made him pretty chill cause he’s definitely chiller irl than his normal online persona

A/N: Part 1/2! This is the fic that began my obsession with the Slimer so to see it partially completed fills me with joy. Also the formatting for the texting lines may be fucked up on desktop cause I made this in Wattpad and I’m posting it on mobile. This is around like 7k words… I think the next one will be shorter hopefully…

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah) 1/2

Charlie loved his life. Making art and hanging out with his friends was all he could ever ask for. Going out on weekends, planning events, participating in projects, everything was perfect. The single life was treating him well. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't interested in romance anymore, it just hadn't come up much, nor was he actively searching for anything. He wasn’t one to go searching for something like that.

So when Moonzy and Ranboo had sent him a link to an ongoing stream of someone he'd never seen before, he was intrigued to say the least.

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The Squad ☝️🤓

Ran

@Char dude someone's about to thirst over u on stream 😏

Char

Huh?

Who?

Ran

https://www.twitch.tv/dannyphantom

They're doing a try not to blush challenge and their chat keeps threatening to send in edits of u

Moonz

Omg Danny!

I know them!

We met at a creator thing one time

They're so kind and really funny

—————————————————————————

Charlie stared at the link, his curiosity taking over and causing him to press it. He wasn't disappointed. A freckled feminine face framed with a pastel strawberry-blonde wolf cut and light brown eyes filled the screen. They wore chunky purple skull earrings, a dark red lip, and eyeliner that enhanced their natural eyes so well that he almost felt himself staring.

"Now, sexualizing real people is bad, chat. However, he has not said anything about explicitly disliking it, so I think as long as we're not too horned up on main, it's fine." They prefaced, spreading their arms wide as if to gloat. "So give me your best shot. I still have all three lives."

Charlie glanced at the viewers, noticing they had quite a few, not that it mattered to him much, he was just curious.

They were screen sharing their phone to the stream, opening TikToks that their mods were sending them.

The first one popped up, an old music stream on Ranboo's channel. "The magic of music is that- oh, you're so wet." Charlie's face in the video contorted into a cringe after speaking, before the edit swapped between different parts of the stream.

Danny was wide eyed with a dropped jaw as it finished. They glanced at the camera, before muttering. "Surely not." Replaying it, the shocked look on their face turned to a light grin, before bursting out into a laugh. "You can see the instant regret on his face after saying it too." The swapping of scenes replayed and Danny paused it after the last one. "Is this who you guys were talking about? I'm sorry Slimecicle I was unaware of your game."

Charlie grinned at the apology, watching as they opened another one, covering his mouth with his hand in slight embarrassment as they opened the one where he'd gone skiing with friends.

"I got two feelings, slow and fast. And there's one I like more than the other." The edit swapped to slowed images of him smiling in the gondola, where he'd been told that he looked like a model. The memory made him grin.

Danny leaned into the mic. "Which one tho?" They chuckle as the chat goes crazy, before they clear their throat and lick their dark lips, motioning to their mouth. "I can feel myself salivating as I watch these."

Charlie grinned harder at that, finding it funny that he was affecting them that much.

The next edit was just a recording of him dancing at a club he'd posted on his instagram story. "Aw this one's cute. That's such a vibe. And what a fit."

Charlie bit the inside of his cheek, hearing their approval of his outfit.

"Actually I think going out with him to a club would fix me. Or maybe just going to a club in general." They joked, before moving on.

They opened another, this one from his animal Olympics stream. "Chat, do you have any tips? Do you have any tips at all? I've got a tip..."

"Proof?" Danny leans into the camera, before laughing off the joke. "He must know. There's no way he can't." They rambled about the innuendo.

Charlie snorts, his lips thinning in an attempt to keep his smile contained.

The chat begins going crazy again, spamming to watch what happened after. Danny reads closer, before shouting. "HE SMIRKS AFTER THAT?" They open the next edit frantically, practically the same as the other one, except it shows a small smirk after him speaking. Looking up at the camera dramatically, eyes wide and jaw open once again, they whisper. "So you're a slut."

Charlie snickers, covering his mouth again almost as a way to hide a blush that he feels creeping up his neck.

They open another, this one being filmed during the QSMP awards. Charlie leaned down and licked at the cake on the table with just his mouth in slow motion, before swapping to portions of him speaking and of his mouth covered in cake. His lips and tongue grazed over the treat sensually, possibly imitating what he would look like when eating something else.

Danny's hand jumped up to cover their mouth, saying nothing as the edit ran once, before they had to pause it, slamming their phone down on the desk. Their hands covered their face, before a squeal emitted from behind them. They removed their hands, their face flushed and pink. "Okay chat, you got me... Fuck..." They mumble, picking up their phone again.

Charlie's brows furrowed in thought, almost not believing that his visage could affect someone as gorgeous as them, and considering that Moonzy knew them, it was likely that streaming was the most family friendly portion of their life on the internet.

"DUDE MOVE PLEASE!" Danny replayed the edit, shouting desperately at Quackity, who was in the way of Charlie's mouth for a portion of the clip. "His jaw movements? Fuck." They exclaimed, before pausing the edit on the image of his face covered in cake, his eyes sleepy and satisfied, absolutely fucked out. "That's what I look like after I'm done eating pussy. I wonder what..." They pause, turning to their camera. "Actually, I can't say that." They grin guiltily as chat goes crazy, absolutely catching them lacking.

Charlie pushed his hair back with a hand, suddenly feeling aware of how he looked, even though he was very much alone.

Danny opened the next one where he had been playing a horror game, listening to the story where a character states that their dog could be "one noisy little girl sometimes."

Charlie felt a heat creep up his face as he was very aware what it was about to say.

"R- Really?" Edit Charlie chuckled, stuttering slightly. "I love noisy, noisy girls..."

Danny screamed, before taking a deep breath. "God. One night with him would actually fix me I think."

Charlie nearly choked on his spit at their words, caught completely off guard. It certainly wasn't that he found them unattractive or anything, he was just surprised at their boldness. But he supposed he probably shouldn't be, considering what they were doing for entertainment on their stream.

The next edit was one he hadn't expected, his Duolingo advertisement where he'd drank multiple mysterious liquids. The edit switched between clips, before one specific one caught Danny's eye.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT?" They paused the edit where it was, turning to face the camera. "Chat, something is pulsing. FUCK!" Their face was actively turning red as they processed what they'd just said and analyzed the image.

Charlie licked his lip at the confession, having a mere fleeting thought of what that pulsing would feel like. He shook his head, waving the thought away guiltily as he took in the reason for their words.

He had been pouring the purple drink into his mouth, lines of the liquid streaming down his throat and catching on the collar of his white tshirt. "You can literally see the veins in his neck." Their hand covered their mouth in embarrassment, turning to the chat to berate them. "Yes, I know that's another one. Fuck..."

Others in chat encouraged each other to send more Slimecicle edits, as they had seemed to be working.

With a worried sigh, they opened up another. This one showed Charlie with shorter hair in an episode of Just Roll With It, in eyeliner and a foam bat, or as everyone had called him during that video, Villian. He held the bat out, throwing it over his shoulder and the clips jumped between him grinning evilly with dark eyes.

They grinned, singing along to the song. "P is for pussy, p, u ,s, s, y." The edit finished and they turned to their camera without a second thought. "He can see my p u s- NOPE CAN'T SAY THAT." They tightened their lips, attempting to hide their laughter.

Charlie was fully blushing now, his teeth nipping at his lip absentmindedly.

They opened another, this one an amalgamation of images from him in a suit, to him in swim trunks sitting on a rock, to him in a tank top. It then switched to clips on him from a stream he couldn't remember, one of which was him pushing his thumb against his lip in absent thought.

They stayed silent, rewatching it, then swallowing thickly. Turning to the camera, they spoke plainly. "Sheet gripping, toe curling, back arching-" Danny bursted out into laughter, shaking their head and fanning themself to keep their face a neutral shade, albeit, a struggle. "I can't even get through that bit. I am so sorry." They grinned, moving to open another one.

The edit was a black screen, with captions across the screen of one of Charlie's immersive horror videos. "Okay, good girl. Ah, I know. I know, baby."

Charlie's own words played back at him made him pinch the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

They replayed it with a slack jaw. "Oh it's massive..." Danny mumbled with wide eyes, the chat going crazy and spamming emojis. "He definitely talks you through it..." They say, almost absentmindedly.

Charlie's pants suddenly tightened, something waking up at the mention of itself. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable again with the uninvited guest, but Danny's words rang in his head. Massive... Talking through it...

He couldn't believe he was hard just because of their phrasing. But maybe it wasn't just that.

They suddenly turned to the camera, their blush showing through as they processed their words. "I said that out loud." Slamming their hands into their face to cover it, they let out a squeal. "Dammit." They sigh, moving their hands and addressing the camera. "Well, I guess that's the end of the stream. I think I need to be put down."

Charlie closed out of the stream, chuckling to himself, before checking Twitter.

—————————————————————————

Danny @dannyphantom

Today we learned on stream that I am actually incapable of being chill

Most relevant replies ^

Danny @dannyphantom

Wtf do u meant he was watching 😟

—————————————————————————

Charlie grinned, liking their tweet reply. Little did he know, that one action would take his life to whole new heights.

—————————————————————————

The Squad ☝️🤓

Char

How old is Danny?

Moonz

They're 23 I think

Ran

Wait why? 😏

Char

No reason

Moonz

Should we invite them to our thing this weekend 😁

Ran

Omg yes absolutely

What do you think Charlie? 😏

Char

Sure

Moonz

Kk I'll message them <3

—————————————————————————

Knowing that Charlie was coming was eating them alive.

They were nervous to say the least.

The man that they had been caught thirsting over live on stream would be right next to them any minute.

The embarrassment they felt seeing that Charlie had, in fact, been watching during that small section near the end made them flush at the thought. Absolutely mortifying.

Ranboo was sat next to them in front of the vanity in Moonzy's room applying their makeup. They must have felt Danny's nervousness from beside them. "Are you excited to meet Charlie?"

Danny applied their highlighter onto their nose, scrunching it at the question in response. "Yeah, I guess." They downplayed their feelings. "I just don't want it to be awkward or uncomfortable for him."

Ranboo chuckled, shaking their head. "Don't worry, Charlie's really chill. I guarantee he wouldn't come if he was uncomfortable."

They nod silently, closing their highlighter pallet and uncapping their lipstick. That made them feel a little better. Danny tried not to flinch as the doorbell rang, finishing the application and recapping their lipstick.

"Charlie's here!" Moonzy cheered from the kitchen, fixing up the pregame drinks for them, racing to the front door.

Danny stood up with Ranboo to greet him, making sure their makeup was completely ready and everything was in place before seeing him.

Charlie smiled and greeted Moonzy, dropping his bag around the corner as he closed the door behind him.

"It's the sludge man!" Ranboo called out to him from another room, walking toward him with someone lingering in the doorway behind them.

Charlie's body froze, seeing the face of the person he'd binge watched over the span of a few days standing in the doorway in front of him.

His eyes raked down their body, gulping dryly.

Danny wore a light purple cocktail dress, sparkling and covered in mesh that hung just slightly longer at the hem than the base fabric beneath it. The dress was tight and the straps were thin, pressing lightly into the soft skin of their shoulders. It had a slight gathering of fabric in the chest area, making their tits look perky and supple.

The jewelry that decorated their neck and wrists and fingers was silver and beautiful. Their nails were painted black, just like his. That fact made his face feel hot for just a moment.

Their shoes were these light purple velvety platform heels, adorned with silvery chains and charms. He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering how they could even walk in those. The heel was at least four inches, but it was also wide and blocky, probably making it easier for them.

He glanced back up at their face, spotting their glossy dark berry colored lips pulled slightly into their mouth with their teeth. Their face was powdered and blushed and preened. Glitter and stars and purple dusted their eyes, a dark purple wing elongating them beautifully.

He didn't think they could get anymore pretty.

Oh how wrong he was.

It took Ranboo slapping his shoulder in greeting to shake him from his staring. They were saying something that he didn't hear as they ushered him into the kitchen while Moonzy dipped into the room behind Danny and grabbed a makeup bag before grabbing their hand and pulling them into the kitchen as well.

The four shot glasses lined up on the counter, next to four empty chaser cups, made them grin.

Moonzy handed their makeup bag to Danny before moving to the drinks. "Can you do Charlie's makeup while Ran and I get your drinks ready?"

They nodded and sat at the table, turning to Charlie with an anxious smile.

He returned it with an awkward smile of his own and sat next to them, turning to face them.

Despite their best efforts to hide it, Danny was staring at Charlie just as hard as he had been earlier.

His blue-rimmed glasses were snug on his face, bringing out the blue in his eyes.

His hair was fluffed up, almost long enough to be a mullet, styled up at the ends in slight curls.

Jewelry embellished his fingers and neck, matching the simple stud earrings they hadn't noticed until that moment.

The shirt he wore was a dark green tank top, tight and sculpting to his form, covered by a black mesh tshirt that showed off his large biceps and vascular forearms.

He wore black jeans, cuffed and held up with a studded belt that cinched his waist.

His shoes were those same cute black converse that'd they'd seen him wear in so many videos. At least the amount of videos they were able to watch in a few days.

Danny carefully grabbed his glasses, setting them on the counter next to them. "So, how does it feel being the only binary one here?" They joked in an attempt to break the tension, opening up the bag and sifting through what was in it.

Charlie chuckled to himself. "Just don't spill any water on me, I might short circuit. You know, with being binary and all."

They thinned their lips at the pun to hold back a smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a laugh.

"Not my best work." He shrugged with a pained smile. "I'll think of something better later."

Danny let their smile shine through, nodding in agreement.

"What do you guys want to drink?" Moonzy asked, pulling out different bottles of alcohol out of a cabinet while Ranboo grabbed a few bottles of juice.

"Vodka if you have it?" Danny grinned at the two of them.

"Pink Whitney okay?"

"Ugh..." Charlie cringed at the mention of the drink.

Danny gasped sarcastically. "You don't like Pink Whitney?"

He shook his head with a smile. "It tastes like a mix of rubbing alcohol and red 40."

They just shrugged, watching Moonzy pour a shot and slide it over to them before gulping it down with a grin. "More chemicals for me, then."

"Here, Char." Moonzy poured a shot of Bacardi for him and slid it over, then turned to Ranboo to fix them all another drink.

"Char?" Danny leaned in, giggling lightly at the nickname. It was cute, just like him.

He held back an embarrassed smile as he swallowed the shot, clearing his throat after.

They rummaged through "What do you want for makeup?"

He simply pursed his lips and shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Danny raised their brows, glancing at the two other people in the room who had similarly done up faces. "You sure?"

Charlie simply nodded, closing his eyes and submitting his face to you.

Danny grinned, hesitantly grabbing his chin with their fingers.

Charlie's heart leaped into his throat at their touch, knowing he couldn't open his eyes or he would blush at their closeness.

Danny applied eyeliner carefully, swiping across his lids with precision and care. "Do you want a wing?" They asked gently, swiping across his other eyelid.

He just shrugged.

They grinned, putting a small wing on each side.

Moonzy and Ranboo shared a look, before cheers-ing their pre-made glasses and drinking their shots with smug grins.

They all downed more shots, tipsy by the time the Uber showed up to the apartment. The ride was cramped and hazy, but before long the four of them were at their destination.

The club was packed, lights strobing across the ceiling in time with the music.

Danny immediately ran in, already pretty drunk, jumping and dancing and singing along to the music, a classic pop song from the early 2000s.

Charlie shoved through the crowd of people to reach them, the other two following behind him.

"This is so fun!" Danny shouted over the music to Charlie, a wild grin on their face.

Charlie chuckled and leaned closer, his mouth coming closer to their ear so he could shout back audibly. "What?"

They just shook their head with a laugh. "Never mind!"

Moonzy crashed into them, grabbing Danny's hands as the two of them jumped to the music.

Ranboo followed close behind, placing an arm around Charlie.

"They're so fucked." He chuckled, before watching Ranboo pull out a flask from their jacket.

"Doesn't mean we can't get more fucked!" They shouted from behind their mask, handing the flask to Charlie.

He smiled, taking a gulp, before cringing lightly and handing it back. "Is that just vodka?"

Ranboo nodded, lifting up their mask just enough to get to their bottom lip and took a sip as well.

Charlie's eyes drifted to the other two, dancing and whipping their hair around carelessly. He unconsciously thinned his lips in a small smile.

"So, how was meeting your internet crush?" Ranboo asked, causing Charlie's head to snap to them.

"What?" He asked incredulously, a flush coming over his face. "They're not... I don't..." Charlie couldn't seem to find the words in his buzz.

Did he?

"Uh huh, sure..." Ranboo grinned, taking another gulp of their flask. "They were worried that you might be uncomfortable. Cause of the stream."

Charlie turned to Ranboo, who was fully letting the alcohol guide their conversation. "Well... I'm not."

"You should probably act like it then." They joked with a smile, taking another swig and recapping it.

"They're just... It's hard to talk to them. They're so..." Charlie found himself at a loss for words again, glancing at Danny who was swaying their hips to the music. A thought flashed through his mind about what it would be like to be behind them as they ground their ass against his hips. "You know?"

Ranboo scoffed, grabbing Charlie's hand and dragging them over to the other two dancing.

"Charlie!" Danny cheered in a tipsy stupor at his presence, lifting their arms in excitement before wrapping both around his arm.

He grinned, trying not to let his face get red at the press of their half exposed tits around his bicep.

The four of them danced and drank and laughed the night away.

It was about 1 am when they all stumbled into a fairly packed bar, a karaoke bar specifically.

A long couch wrapped around the front of the stage and they practically fell into it.

"Ooh karaoke!" Danny shouted, climbing onto the stage and picking out a song.

Charlie chuckled between Ranboo and Moonzy as they all watched Danny dance to the introduction of the music. The harsh guitar riffs and drum beat echoed through the bar. He'd remembered this song while Ranboo and him had done a pole dancing lesson, enough to recognize it until the lyrics came on screen and they began to sing, surprisingly well for how inebriated they all were.

"We've been here to long, tryna get along, pretending that you're oh so shy~" They leaned into the wireless microphone, taking it off the stand and walking slowly toward the crowd, feeling the music. "I'm a natural man, doing all I can, my temperature is running high~" They swiped a hand down their hips, swiveling to the beat.

Moonzy cheered, the alcohol clearly showing in their volume.

"Cry at night, no one in sight, and we got so much to share~" Danny's hand slid up their waist with the lyrics, and Charlie could have sworn they locked eyes with him for just a moment. "Talkings fine, if you got the time, but I ain't got the time to spare, yeah~"

Apparently the rest of the bar was enjoying the song as much as him, due to their loud cheering at the chorus.

"Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch me there? Where?"

The bar shouted out "yeah"s in sync with the music.

"Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch me there? Where? There? Yeah~" Danny began to clap, encouraging the rest of the bar to clap along with them.

"Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah~" Of course they did, but not because of their love for the song like Danny, most likely because there was a beautiful person singing for them about sex. Not that Charlie didn't also think they were beautiful, so he sung along too. "Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah~"

They must have seen him singing along, because as the song continued, Danny stalked toward the front of the stage where the other three in the group were sitting. Danny bent over the three of them, unaware of the massive amounts of cleavage they were revealing to everyone. "Every girl and boy, needs a little joy, all you do is sit and stare." They seemed to be looking right at him, Danny's pretty brown blown-out pupils practically raking down his body. And suddenly Danny got down on their knees in front of them, running a hand up their body. "Begging on my knees, baby won't you please, run your fingers through my hair~" They did just that for him, threading their own fingers through their hair before shaking it out.

Anyone could have easily mixed what they were doing as just enjoying the song, but Charlie's brain thought for just a second they were calling out to him, begging him to touch them, but a tightness in his pants brought him out of that thought. He looked up to them, but they turned to Moonzy, completely unbothered. Was he just imagining it?

"My my my, whiskey and rye, don't it make you feel so fine?" They sang, holding a hand out to Moonzy. They obviously took it, being hauled up onto the stage. "Right or wrong, don't it turn you on, can't you see we're waiting time? Yeah~"

They sang the chorus, the rest of the bar shouting out their "yeah"s.

"Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch me there? Where?" Danny spun around, back facing Moonzy as they felt them grab their hips. Danny grinned, bending over slightly against them as the bar erupted into cheers. "Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch? Do you wanna touch me there? Where? There? Yeah~"

Charlie glanced over at Ranboo, who was recording the whole thing with a hand over their mask to hide the noises of their drunken laughter, before returning his attention to Danny as they swung their hips back into Moonzy. He almost felt a hint of something in his chest, frustration, jealously? He ignored it and sang and clapped with the rest of the bar. "Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah~"

"Do ya? Do ya?" Danny let the tone of that lyric inflict up, singing almost like a moan, making Charlie shift in his seat.

"Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah~"

Their hands slid down their thighs, past the hem of their dress, and back up again. "Do ya? Do ya?" A grin fell upon their lips, almost as if they knew exactly what they were doing, before slipping into the bridge of the song. The chorus of the rest of the bar's singing and clapping continued. "Do you wanna touch, do you wanna touch me there? Do you wanna touch, do you wanna touch me there? Yeah~ My my my, do you wanna touch me there?" They stood up with Moonzy, dancing around together for the rest of the bridge, head banging and laughing and smiling.

Charlie felt the fondness that had been growing into something bigger, that he simply couldn't fight anymore. Seeing how carefree they were, maybe due to the alcohol, but also just in general, made him want to be more like them. They inspired him to want to live, have fun, take risks.

"Touch me there, you know where, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah~" Finally, they joined with the rest of the bar in singing and clapping for the final lyric. "Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah~" The song ended in a slide out of the guitar. Danny practically dropped the mic, lifting their arms up and shouting in exhilaration. "Woo!"

The bar erupted in applause, older men hooting and hollering and whistling.

Moonzy placed their arm around Danny and walked back down to the couch together, practically collapsing onto it. They giggle, the alcohol finally beginning to slow its effects. Danny was pressed between Moonzy and Charlie.

"You good?" Charlie whispered to Danny.

They nodded wordlessly, eyes closed and content.

He turned to Ranboo, who was snickering as they replayed the footage of the performance on their phone. "Could you take Moonzy and get all of us some water?"

They nodded, reaching behind all of them and tapping Moonzy on the shoulder, before standing up with them and walking toward the bar.

Danny pouted, leaning their head on Charlie's shoulder. "Where are they going? I miss them..."

He turned to them on his shoulder, a corner of his lip twitching up at the pout that they were giving him. "They're getting some water, they'll be back."

Suddenly a man came out from behind the couch, rounding the corner to stand in front of Danny, utterly too close for Charlie's liking.

They lifted their head, addressing the man standing in front of them. "Hiiii~"

The man grinned, a sickly sweet smile. "Hi, sweetheart. Just wanted to come over and see if I could buy you a drink."

"We're good." Charlie spoke for them in their inebriated state, as politely as he could manage. He could tell he was attempting to get them more drunk than they were, which was already a lot.

The man glanced at him for a moment, as if to size him up, before turning back to his original target. "What, is he your boyfriend or something?"

"Pfft..." Danny giggled, glancing at Charlie bashfully, who was not smiling. "Nooo?"

Charlie rolls his eyes. "Look, man, just fuck off." He snaps, harsher than even he meant to say.

The man lifts his hands in defense, backing off. "All yours, bro."

Charlie scrunched his nose in disgust at the way the man spoke about Danny, like they were something to be passed around. He glared at him as he walked away until he was out of sight, turning back to the one sitting next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" They ask, as if they hadn't even seen what happened.

"Okay, we should probably go." He mumbled, glancing around for Ranboo and Moonzy, who were on the way back from the bar with four water cups.

When they had all gotten back to Moonzy and Ranboo's apartment via an Uber, the two owners had promptly fallen asleep in their respective rooms. Charlie practically heaved Danny into the apartment, leading them to the couch.

Danny frowns absentmindedly, falling into a sitting position against the cushions as Charlie takes a seat on the floor in front of them.

Glancing up, he notices their frown. "What's wrong?" He mumbles, attempting to stay quiet and let the other people in the apartment sleep.

Danny frowns deeper, reaching down futilely to unbuckle their heels. "Nothing..."

"It's obviously something if it's bothering you." Charlie takes over, gingerly cupping the back of their heel and unbuckling the first shoe.

They straightened up again, before leaning back further into the cushion. "I had too much to drink. And now you have to take care of me."

Charlie just pursed his lips, taking the first shoe off and moving to unbuckle the other. "I don't mind. As long as you had fun." He smiles to himself, before looking back up at Danny. Their eyes were trained on him as he slipped off their other heel.

Danny's eyes were heavy with sleep, drunkness, and maybe something else. "Did you have fun?" They asked softly, as if his answer was life or death. Like it really did matter to them what his response would be, like it was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.

Maybe it was just his own brain still buzzing from the alcohol, but he almost felt bashful at their question, like it was the first time all night he'd really felt observed by them, like how he'd shamelessly watched them all night. Like he was in the warm glow of a spotlight with butterflies in his stomach. He simply nodded, his hands folded in his lap.

Danny smiled, looking gorgeous above him, despite their disheveled hair and faded lipstick. Their hand lifted to cup his cheek, and Charlie felt himself almost melt into their touch, before their fingers pushed a stray piece of his hair behind his ear and then pulled away.

Charlie's neck nearly craned to chase their touch, but he refrained. His face felt suddenly softer, the feeling of their nails lightly trailing his skin for just a moment making his whole body radiate warmth.

"Good." Danny mumbled, kicking their feet up slowly onto the couch as Charlie took off his own shoes and attempted to regain his composure. They passed him the throw pillow near their feet and one of the blankets thrown over the back of the couch, before flattening the other throw pillow beneath their head. They pulled the other blanket to their chin as they watched Charlie set up his own makeshift bed. "I would feel bad... If it was awkward for you."

"Why would it be awkward?" He asked without thinking, before remembering.

"Because of the stream I did."

Charlie paused his movements in thought, before shaking his head and continuing. "I didn't mind, really. I thought it was..." He paused again, his breath bated and shy. "I thought you were cute..."

His heart pumped fast at the confession.

He couldn't believe he'd just said that.

But there was no response.

His mind went wild with the worst thoughts.

Did they think he was creepy? Did he go too far? He shouldn't have said anything.

Charlie turned to apologize and correct himself, but when he turned he saw Danny passed out on the couch.

Their mouth was open, a bit of drool beginning to form at the corner. Steady breaths inhaled, before light snores exhaled. They looked adorable.

Charlie bit back a smile at the sight.

Maybe they didn't hear.

Maybe his dignity was preserved.

He simply tucked himself in and followed into sleep.

But of course, cause god hates him, he couldn't stay asleep for long.

He was having a bit of a... Problem.

He stumbled to the bathroom, staring down in contempt at the bulge in his pants.

With a sigh, he leaned against the counter and took out his phone, simply waiting for it to go away.

He swiped on instagram, until an account popped up.

Danny.

Followed by Moonzy and Ranboo.

He smiled lightly, clicking the follow button.

Scrolling through their posts helped him feel better, maybe not less hard, but better. They'd posted slice of life photos when they were out with friends, cosplays, streaming announcements in their highlights, and oh god...

They had Only Fans teasers.

That did not help his boner at all.

They weren't too explicit, just pictures of Danny in slightly revealing clothes.

One had them in a grey sweater like material that was practically a turtleneck dress with a large cut out in the middle exposing their upper abdomen and the very bottoms of the curves of their tits. He swiped on the photo, the next showing how the back was also cut out, leaving only the material that dipped teasingly low. The curvy globes of their ass were barely covered by the fabric.

Charlie's breath deepened as his hips involuntarily shifted to try and be more comfortable, but he could only be so comfortable in jeans. He decided to unbutton them with his free hand, sighing at the restrictions around his crotch being loosened.

He swiped to a different post, just out of curiosity, and maybe a little bit of hunger, courtesy of the head he wasn't thinking with at the moment.

They were now clad in a cow print turtleneck dress, another soft material that he involuntarily imagined the texture of beneath his hands. Thigh highs with the same cow print covered the skin just inches beneath the hem on the dress. The photo was complete with little cow ears and horns on a headband, their tongue sticking out in an aggressive manner, their nosed scrunched cutely. He swiped with reckless abandon, fully accepting that he was looking just to look. The back was similar to the other picture, with that same tantalizing drop of fabric to their rear. Their thighs were pressed together, the meat of them just barely obscuring what was between.

He wanted to see what was between so bad.

"Fuck..." Charlie sighed quietly, reaching a hand into his boxer briefs and pulling out what had been bothering him for practically the whole night.

His cock was hard, really hard, leaking pre-cum out the pink and swollen tip. The lack of stimulation was clear from how it twitched, practically fucking begging to be touched.

Charlie couldn't stop himself, it was like a reflex. He grabbed the head of his cock, swiping the precum down and around the head, followed by a small jolt of relief. Not at the kind of intensity he needed, but it was something.

He swiped to another picture. They donned a beautiful red dress, the fabric looking almost velvety. Rhinestones sprinkled the front and back, Danny's arms were crossed with their palms on their waist, pressing their tits together slightly, practically spilling out of the straps around the sides and the skinny triangles covering the peaks of both. Gold chains draped between the mounds and around their waist, adorning the skin peeking through the hip windows built into the dress.

They looked so fucking gorgeous.

Charlie's head fell back lightly as he stroked himself once, then again.

He just couldn't help himself.

How could he when they were right there?

He'd barely managed to restrain himself from jacking off to clips of Danny's stream over the past few days, watching them make themself flush and spout out all kinds of naughty things at just the sight of him.

Thoughts of their stream rushed through his clouded mind. How they'd jokingly asked for proof of his tip, how they said they were pulsing for him, stating that he was massive, especially when they guessed that he would talk them through it.

God, he wanted to talk them through it, whisper in their ear while he touched them. If they'd let him Charlie would drop to his knees and get them off in an instant.

His cock twitched at the thought. Stroking faster, he opened another photo, this one of Danny in a black dress, the fabric beginning at their neck, around their torso, then splitting at their hips and flowing down their front and back in two separate sheets. They wore two black leather garter belts, one on each thigh, studded and connected to smaller ones right below them. His eyes locked onto the strings of some kind of black thong seated just below where the dress split off. He swiped, his heartbeat accelerating as they sat with spread legs out for the camera, the front sheet of fabric barely covering the apex of their thighs. And even more, the strings of the panties were gone. Danny was completely bare beneath the dress.

The thought drove him wild.

What he would give to lift the fabric up and slide his cock in, making them cum over and over and over again on it.

Making them scream his name while they shook uncontrollably and kissed him and praised him.

Charlie felt a familiar tightness in his groin, but images wouldn't stop cycling through his head from tonight.

Danny in that perfect little dress, the way they looked at him when he helped take their shoes off, the way their hips swayed to the music in the club, the way they looked at him when they sang that fucking song. They were begging for him to touch them, touch their perfect body in front of all of those people, everyone who wanted them, but couldn't have them.

Cause Danny wanted him.

His eyes fluttered shut as his cock spurted ropes of hot cum all over his hand, coating it proficiently.

Charlie panted, thanking gravity that none of it got on the floor or his clothes.

There would be no way to explain that mess.

He stood, washing his hand off with a grimace, the thick stickiness not receding until two rounds of scrubbing with soap.

Then the post-nut clarity began to hit.

Jesus Christ why did he do that?

He couldn't fucking believe himself. That was such an invasion of privacy. He was just like those weird gooner incels online. Well, maybe not just like them. They could never appreciate Danny like he did.

It's not like he went on their Only Fans or something.

Charlie paused.

They were probably naked on their Only Fans. His face felt hot, causing him to turn off his phone immediately.

Absolutely not, that would be an actual invasion of privacy.

But if he did pay for the service...

No.

He shouldn't even be thinking about them like that. It was downright disrespectful.

Maybe he was still a little drunk.

Maybe he just needed to go back to sleep to take his mind off it all.

And so he stumbled back out of the bathroom.

But nothing made the burning in his cheeks go away.

[honeysickledream]

Stellate (sex pollen) | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Scientist!Reader

NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI) CW for dubcon / dubious consent, sex pollen, fuck or die (possibly?), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), squirting, panty stealing, dead dove do not eat [if i missed anything, lmk please!] w/c: ~1.3k a/n: I needed more sex pollen fics in my life so I tried my best to fulfill that need—now i’m gonna see if I can get some work done now, byeeee [edited: this was my first attempt at smut in ages, sorry if it's rough]

You and Soap had been tasked with receiving samples of a plant from a remote enemy research facility that had been reported abandoned. Soap was to act as your bodyguard in case the intel was faulty and a few enemies, or traps, remained while you collected the samples that the head researchers from your lab needed. You accepted the mission, you had no choice but to, and didn’t fuss about Soap’s talkative presence on the journey to the facility. His stories were funny and almost as charming as his blue eyes, and the sense of security he gave you was welcoming.

The intel had been accurate: the research outpost was abandoned, and based on appearances, it had been a hasty abandonment. Partially full gas cans sat beside trucks that had been haphazardly loaded with various crates. In the offices, personal items remained littered on the desktops. The floors of the general labs were stained with various chemicals, research notes and glass from beakers and full titration sets scattered across the floor. Soap pressed forward to the hydroponic labs and you followed him nervously, keeping six feet between you just in case something went wrong ahead.

The hydroponics lab was dimly lit with a faint haze that hung dimly in the air. Florescent tubes flickered randomly behind the glass covers. State-of-the-art hydroponic tables stood in perfectly measured rows with clusters of leafy plants in wide, black plastic pots. The flowers that bloomed in clusters on top were beautiful: stellate petals colored lilac, slashed with a deep orange down the center.

You got to work as quickly as you could, gloving your hands and laying out your equipment on the empty space beside your chosen plant. With a steady hand, you gently plucked a few petals with a pair of long tweezers, placing each one into its own marked specimen pouch. You collected a few leaves, noting that the margins were dentate. You snipped one of the stamens, being sure to not jostle it too much as you lowered into a pouch.

The plant…shuddered when you looked back at it in preparation to swipe a sample of the stigma. You gave the plant a long, hard look. It had shuddered, you knew it had, yet there had been no breeze, and Soap was across the lab doing his own thing. There was no evidence that something was alive in the lab, either: no cocoons or webs, droppings or bite marks on any of the leaves you’d looked at. You pressed the cotton tip of the swab to the stigma and twisted it once for your sample.

It moved again and you took a step back, calling out for Soap. The flowers turned to you—actually turned—and a faintly pink substance sputtered from the stigmas and into your face. A short coughing fit overcame you as your lungs started to burn, your eyes watering and clouding over with a pink haze.

Panic bloomed in your heart and the blood in your veins shot cold before a wave of painful heat slithered through your veins and settled into your bones. Your heartbeat became erratic as whatever compound in the flower’s pollen mixed with the chemical components in your brain, which was no doubt accelerated by your panic.

Soap’s voice, muffled by the faint ringing that had settled in your ears, partially registered in your mind and you looked toward him. His broad form was vaguely recognizable through the pink haze over your eyes. A painful throbbing perfectly in time with your heartbeat settled between your legs as he fussed over your pollen-covered face with a dampened rag. Need. God, you needed something. Him, that’s what you needed.

The little logical voice in your head was long gone, silence by another voice. Its eerie whispers filled every nook and cranny of your mind as it planted image after image of Soap fucking you in every position you’d read about and watched on those lonely nights that had become far too frequent. You fisted the straps of his tactical vest, pulling him closer. “Help,” you panted. You grabbed his hand to guide it between your thighs. He froze and blasphemed under his breath as he felt how wet you were through your slacks. “Help me, please. Do something!” His fingers crooked against your clothed cunt. “Evac’ll be here soon,” he rasped.

Your head shook ‘No’ quickly. “Not soon enough. You gotta help me now!”

“Lass—“

“Please,” you sobbed. “I need it—I want it!”

His hands settled on your hips as he shushed you. He walked you back to the edge of the edge of the hydroponic bench. You’re pressed into the edge and then you were on your back, your slacks and underwear yanked down and tossed aside. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders as he knelt on the concrete floor. His rough thumb worked quickly against your throbbing clit while his tongue moved against your leaking slit. Your hips bucked, pathetic whimpers and breathy moans falling from your lips. All the heat in your veins suddenly moved towards your belly, coiling tighter and tighter. It wasn’t enough all of a sudden. You begged for more as you carded your fingers through his hair and pressed his face harder against you. His hold on you shifted, his tongue replacing his thumb against your clit as his slowly pressed his middle finger into you. A dizzying mix of praise laced with fond degradation was panted against your clit as you clenched around his finger that crooked against that spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids, that spot very few men you’d been with cared to focus on. His ring finger slipped into you and his pace quickened. The stimulation, the stretch, those filthy sweet words he panted against you was quickly becoming your undoing. The coiled tension that sat low in your belly tightened suddenly. You tried to warn him that you were about to cum but all that came from your mouth was a sharp gasp as you gushed around his fingers. You whined when he pulled his fingers from you as he stood. The fog in your mind had begun to dissipate quickly. That eerie voice that told you all the ways you needed Soap had been silenced, you vision cleared of the pink haze. Soap placed your slacks beside you as he licked his lips and fingers clean of you. That image was going to stay with you for the rest of your life, not that you minded. His radio crackled to life, announcing the arrival of the evac and quarantine team. You He carefully slid your specimen pouches and tools into your satchel while you shakily pulled on your slacks— “Where’s…my underwear?” you asked. Soap shrugged and turned on his heels to make his way out of the lab. Your eyes caught the bunch of familiar black fabric sticking out of his back pocket when you call into line behind you. You didn’t mention it. Not after he cured you of whatever that pollen did to you. He deserved a little reward for all his help. You took in a sharp breath as you exited the building. The air was crisp, cool. Soap nudged your side and you looked to your left. A small team of contamination personnel worked to set up their screening tent and laid out PPE for your return to base. “We’re gonna be in quarantine for a while,” you told him. You felt his eyes drift to you, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed him smirk. “Aye. Reckon it’ll be together?” “Hm…Possibly.” “Quarantine can be borin’.” Your lips pursed as you try not to grin. You fail. “That it can. Got some ideas to keep the boredom at bay?” He snorted. “Aye, plenty.”

[hjbender]

I finally got around to emptying out my Google Docs in just another step of un-shittifying my digital writing life. I uploaded my docs to Proton Docs, which has improved so much from the last time I tried it out that it's almost identical to GDocs now. Minus the AI and lack of privacy.

Here's a tutorial if you'd like to do the same.

Moving Your Fics from Google Docs to Proton Docs

You will of course need a Proton account for this. Please note that the instructions below are performed on desktop.

Part One: Getting Your Stuff Off Google

1. Navigate to your Google Drive.

2. Under the big Search bar, you'll see a dropdown menu called Type. Click it and select Documents. This will display all of your documents.

3. Click on one document to highlight it, then hit CTRL + A to Select All.

4. Right click and select Download.

5. Your documents will download into a zip file. Unzip the folder and extract your files to another folder on your computer.

NOTE: Google uses its own file format to handle documents. When you download your documents, they will be Word (.docx) files.

Go through your downloaded documents and make sure they're all there before deleting them from Google. You can delete by selecting all using the method above, right clicking, and hitting Remove.

Part Two: Upload Your Fics to Proton

1. Navigate to your Proton Drive (proton.me/drive). It comes free with your Proton email.

2. On your PC, highlight all the documents that you want to upload and simply drag and drop them into your Proton Drive.

3. You're ready to rock and roll.

NOTE: When you upload your documents to your Proton Drive, they will retain the .docx file type described in the above note. Once you open a .docx file in Proton Docs, a copy will be made of that file. You will see this when you navigate back to your Proton Drive. You may delete the extra .docx file and continue to use the Proton document instead (recommended).

Additional: You can download the Proton Drive app for mobile and enjoy the same cross-device reading and editing capability as Google.

[callsignfate]

Hi I have some ideas for Valeria ( if you need something 😆)

1. Movie night with a fem reader, we know Valeria is cold and heartless but for her girlfriend...she can be a total sweetheart. Reader finally convinced Valeria to watch a cartoons with her ( I love cartoons 🙈) so they take some snacks and go watch cartoons. Unfortunately reader fall asleep after an hour and that was a moment when Valeria realized how good and safe she feels with her girlfriend

2. Valeria had a stressful day (obviously 😅) when she finished her work only thing she wanted to do was to go to sleep. She went to her bedroom but she couldn't find her girlfriend (reader) so she went to find her. Reader was in the kitchen cooking something for both of them when Valeria found her. A lot of fluff ,maybe some sexual tension who knows 😆

I have a lot if ideas and your stories are always sooo good and I think it might be interesting 😆 I hope you like it

Thank you 🖤

Reader x Valeria

TW: Possible sexual content viewer discretion is advised

Okay so, Authors note, I had taken such a long time off of writing that I had to rewatch all of the Valeria scenes to make sure I wrote the character as closely as I could get. This didn’t take long but, yea. I also went and found a laptop with a great deal so I use it just for writing and can now write whenever I want instead of having to write only on my desktop that's having some minor issues right now. I would like to apologize again for the large wait in between posts as I have a lot of things going on with my mental and physical health. I kept trying to get back into writing but every time I would I’d end up sick, at the doctor's for some reason, or just not in the mood to write. I also have been getting into other shows and games so might expand the characters and fandoms I write for. This is the 2nd prompt btw I will work on editing the first prompt draft after I post this.

Lightly edited as I wanted to post something ASAP!

She ended up taking longer than even her normal long days, finding herself up to her eyes in work and calls that had to be done soon to move her products smoothly as some unforeseen hitches had ruined her previous plans with ease. Her office was now shrouded in dark other than the two lamps she had turned on absentmindedly. Her last call was the longest and most infuriating one as luck would have it, her foul words being muttered under her breath and she slammed her phone down and left the office she found stuffy and claustrophobic after sitting in it ceaselessly.

Valeria was a busy woman, of course, often keeping her empire running wasn't a small feat. Her days weren’t the standard eight hours as most were, after your busy schedule that kept you busy for eight to nine hours of the day. After work, you often waited around for her while relaxing and walking about the endless villa she called home.

Her mind was fuzzy with stress and exhaustion as the night before was restless and short, her morning with you being cut short had made the day already negative, only making her day longer and filled with her having an even shorter fuse. She yearned for sleep, to hold you in her arms while she listened to you ramble about the simple things that kept your mind busy and happy.

The trudging steps became lighter as she got closer to your shared bedroom where she half expected you to be in bed curled up either asleep or awake pouting and waiting for her with some small comment about how long you waited for her.

Instead, when she opened the door to get ready for bed you were gone, her eyebrows pinched together and furrowed in frustration. Her thoughts were filled with endless questions and fear? She scanned the room again to see the clothes she had seen you in when you had visited her office before were thrown into the hamper hanging off of the side of it messily. With a slightly agitated huff, she began opening doors down the hall in search of you, the bathrooms were cool and the mirror wasn't fogged up meaning you weren’t there, so she headed down the stairs before a sent of warm food led her to the kitchen, her eyebrows raised as she found you wearing an oversized sweater and short thin sleeping shorts that you usually wore to bed after she bought them for you on a particularly hot day a year or so ago.

“What are you doing?” She finally spoke with a slightly playfully mocking tone, making you jump while you leaned back and forth and mouthed the lyrics of the song you were listening to in your earbuds.

“I was making us something to eat, I tried to lay down but I got snacky and bored waiting.” You said after quelling your quickened heart and letting out a small breath.

“I had calls to make and the idiots on the other side weren’t listening.” She muttered with a small hint of frustration before she moved to stand behind you, her arms wrapping around you before they moved under your hoodie so slowly that your mouth slacked and goosebumps raised on your arms and the back of your neck.

“Let's eat and head to bed.” She hummed out in your ear with a small teasing and cocky laugh.

You offered a nod and plated the food before her hand slipped into your loose shorts making you lean forward onto the counter, your stomach tensing as a gasp escaped your lips. 

The food, sat on the counter cold you realized as you watched her sleeping soundly, the subtle soft snore making your lips turn up into a small smile.

[amuwo]

EDIT: corrected timezones on poster, sorry for any confusion 🙏

Come join us on 22nd March at 21:00 UTC+0 for a viewing party of Char's Counterattack to celebrate this blog turning a year old! And also to celebrate 37 extremely wicked years of CCA

We will be using Kosmi - this is available on both desktop and mobile apps :] you do not need to make an account to use it but you DO need to make one to set a username!

I'll post the Kosmi link on the day of the stream itself.

Da Rules:

☄️ All are welcome! Feel free to spread the word and invite friends, you don't need to be a follower to join in :3

☄️ Keep it niceys and civil in chat! Will kick you if you're being a dick

☄️ This is a fujo-friendly viewing so no complaining about our yaois

☄️ Don't spoil things before they happen, there might be first time viewers in chat! Being vague is fine just be mindful of the CCA newbies

Shoot me a message if you have any questions or need clarification on anything <3 I'll tag any further information or asks as #cca watchparty so they're all in one easily accessible place on my blog

(Will put some details under the cut for first time watchers)

Necessary watch material to understand wtf is going on:

- Mobile Suit Gundam (1979): either the full TV series or the three compilation movies. Both are acceptable ways to experience 0079 :)

- Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam (1985): unfortunately the compilation movies are borderline incomprehensible so you need to watch the TV series. If you're not finished watching Zeta but have at least seen up to Char and Amuro's reunion you should be fine to watch CCA but I do recommend finishing the series if you can

.....and that's it, you're fine to move on over to Char's Counterattack after those! Mobile Suit ZZ Gundam follows Zeta and preceeds CCA but is not necessary to understand the char divorce movie

CCA has a really confusing start because it suddenly throws you in the middle of a new conflict with no explanation of how we got there. The last time Amuro and Char met they were on the same side and on friendly terms but now suddenly Char is evil again and acting out for attention. But don't worry 'bout it just enjoy the ride it's part of the CCA experience

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 372: Gone Viral

At this point I’d watched the video, the twenty-second clip from Amelia’s Saturday-night stream that had gone absolutely viral, more times than I could count. The clip was everywhere now. My phone was broken but I still had my desktop computer, and the video player filled my screen.

MAN MAKES GIRLS GROW BY CUMMING!!!

 It still made my mouth gape, it still made my skin crawl, and as I sat in my office alone this Tuesday morning it made me deathly afraid. What the actual fuck is happening?!? What had I become involved in?!? What had been happening to my body and - what was I doing to theirs?!?

Josie’s breasts broke out of her top. 

It was a trick, had to be something with editing, or a really good animation, or something - right?!? People don’t just…grow! It was physically impossible! It broke so many fundamental laws of nature and physics and physiology. It had to be fake. Didn’t it?? And, of course, it wasn’t me that caused it. It couldn’t be!

Lakshmi’s ass ballooned. 

Someone - one of the girls, or some online perv - had obviously made this clip of Amelia’s live recording of me sitting on Melissa’s lap, on her couch, surrounded by girls in bikinis and pajamas and getting whacked off by Josie. They’d clipped it, done weird things to it, and posted it…everywhere. That was the only explanation, that it had been altered. But…no. Now that I thought about it, I remembered. Memories came flooding back. 

Katie’s feet grew and burst from her flip-flop sandals. 

And what was happening with Josie’s hair?!?

And Melissa…Melissa looked enormous!

Oh my god!!

As I relived it again - the first time, in fact, back in the breakroom after a few bites of that terrible scone this morning - the memories started to get clearer. The girls had grown, all around me, my female staff had burgeoned and swelled. They surrounded me pressing around into me on Saturday night right after my handjob in Josie’s grip. And, though it didn’t make it onto the clip’s audio, I now remembered Randi’s whispered voice in my ear: “Get ready little man, your girls are going to eat you alive.”

Again: Oh my god!!

Three million views! More! More than three million views this thing had already, just on GirlToob (this popular, rapidly growing new video platform filled with content “for a female audience”) and it was posted only two days ago! I watched it again, looping. 

There I was, naked as day (certain parts of my anatomy were pixelated out for modesty on some sites, like this one, but I was full Monty on many of the re-uploads) and spasming in climax like a rag doll. And then, as the camera left me and scanned the surrounding women all suddenly consumed in ecstasy, the growth began. Josie’s top, Lakshmi’s bottom, and Katie’s feet, they all got bigger. And, by god, they all got taller too, right after I’d obviously climaxed Yes, it was subtle, and maybe a trick, but the fact remained: I was now internet famous for making girls grow. 

Can one actually die from humiliation? Is there an ICD-13 code for End-Stage Shame? Because I had a terminal case of mortification that was currently making my blood ice water and I felt like I should just go hide under a rock for oh…I don't know…the next decade or so. 

I watched the loop again, still in stunned silence staring into my future and feeling the world close in all around me. Though I tried my best to deny it as trickery, part of me knew this was no joke. It was as if I’d realized this all before, sitting there that Saturday night, but only now had it actually become real. And it was very, very public. Had I been mad at Amelia for streaming this, on Saturday night? I don’t think I was. In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even know it was happening at the time, but when the girls showed me the video early this morning I kind of freaked out a bit. They all just laughed as they watched my reaction.. 

“Aww! Don’t be so dramatic,” one of them had said. 

“It’s all good,” said another. 

“People love you,” they tried to tell me. 

“Here, look at these comments, there’s hundreds of them,” I was told, “one girl calls you a hunk!”

“Or this one: ‘He’s every girl’s dream’.”

‘I want to hug him like a teddy bear.’

I want to eat him for breakfast. 

Can I be next haha??

Though most of the commenters were women, men had chimed in too: ‘ugh the dude is supersimp’ and ‘fuck yes make them all biggger u fuck’ or ‘STOP JUST WATCHNG WE NEED TO STIP THIS’

GOOD LORD!! I was, suddenly, a pariah, a savior, an object of lust and envy all at once. Millions of people had seen this! My heart thrump-thummed in my chest as my skin prickled with ignominy and the anxiety that was coming on like a horde of locusts. It was eating everything! Did I need to go to the authorities? Did I need to go to the hospital to find out what was wrong with me? Or did I just need to commit myself to the psych ward and be done with it? 

I needed t-

A knock at my door.

“Dr J?” came Aubrey’s voice, followed by Aubrey herself. Goddamnit even in my discomfit, my soul-panic, my eyes went to her tits. Jesus, her chest. Holy Christ her figure. This is Aubrey?!? Little Aubrey?!? She’d been six inches shorter - easily! - three months ago. If somehow I was responsible for all these changes to all these girls -  What have I done to her?!? She stepped in, closing the door to my office behind her, wearing a sensible - if overmatched - blue blouse, a mid-length skirt, and a look of concern. She was also carrying my ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug. 

“H-hey Aubrey, c-C-ome in,” I greeted her, hearing my voice crack again. It had been doing that more and more recently, especially in times of stress. I sounded like a pre-teen. I glanced at the white mug, which after a contrite thanks she offered to me. I hesitated. I remembered the cup the girls had poured me earlier; I hadn’t been able to stomach even a sip. “Is that my coffee?”

“No,” she said, a funny shiver to her voice, “I…I know you haven’t been drinking coffee, so…so I brought you this.”

I didn’t even notice her eyes watching me, studying my face as I accepted the mug and took a look at its contents. Jesus the mug felt heavy to me. And inside -  milk, of course it was milk. Melissa had been insistent we keep a gallon of both 2% and whole in the breakroom fridge now, in case I ever got thirsty, or hungry. It was - I had to admit - the easiest thing on my stomach these days. I was more than a little self-conscious that I’d become a milk-drinker and blushed a little here in front of Aubrey. The smell, though, cut through my perturbation. Wow, I guess I’m really craving this. It made sense: I hadn’t eaten much at all this morning. 

Aubrey continued to watch as I brought the mug to my lips and took a sip. Wow. It was delicious. Creamy, sweet, earthy. Maybe this is a new brand? And…

“You warmed it up?” I asked. It was warm, perfect. Like body temperature. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Aubrey answered, still sounding slightly nervous as she bit her lip, “in the, um, microwave? Is that okay?”

“Sure,” I answered, taking another sip, and then another. It caressed my mouth, slipped down my throat and immediately went to work filling my body with warmth and a new sense of something good, familiar. Holy crap this is great. I fought the urge to just gulp it down. “Thank you so much, Aubrey.” There was something different in my voice. I sounded calmer. 

“You’re welcome,” she answered. 

This, of course dear readers, was Katarina’s breastmilk. I didn’t know that at the time though, and somehow, in that moment I didn’t put the memory together, or recognize the taste. Again, my abilities to avoid the truth were Olympian. I’d drank of it over the weekend and this was the same thing, but goddammit as I sat at my desk my mind was if nothing else a fortress of denial. Subconsciously I refused to acknowledge it - but  I was drinking breastmilk.  

I looked up at Aubrey and instead of seeing a woman complicit in a plot to overthrow my authority here at the office, physically infantilize me into a cretin, and help herald in a new age of overwhelming female power, my eyes saw someone else. I saw a girl who cared about me, an employee who wanted my day to go well, and a budding friend. A daughter-figure in some respects, a cool younger protege in others. 

Christ I was so deluded!!!

But, no. Aubrey - all the girls, really - was all these things. Our little story here, if you haven’t figured it out by this point, is complicated. Good guys, bad guys, heroes and villains? It was all too convoluted for labels. What was I, for that matter? A culpable anti-hero working against my gender? A victim, a helpless simp? Was I the lead actor in a comedy, tragedy or reality-show from the most fucked-up universe ever? I don’t goddamn know, even now. But the fact of the matter is, at that moment in time - gazing up at Aubrey with my “World’s Best Boss” mug in my hand and my medical-records clerk’s breastmilk worming its way into me - I felt great. 

“What are you watching?” Aubrey asked, noticing that my screen was on, video player playing, looping. 

“Oh, yeah, this,” I said, taking another sip of warm, delicious  milk and turning the monitor towards her, “this is great. Wanna watch..?”

====================================

mucho thanks to RiF for editing and guidance

[evol-astraea]

Desperate PC Tenno calling for help!

Calling all the tech-savvy players here on Tumblr who may hopefully lend me and tech support a hand. Yes, the situation is that bad. More under the cut to spare a lengthy wall of text!

I've been experiencing totally random and sudden crashes with WF since a month and half, by now.

The game first freezes for less than a minute, then crashes to desktop bringing up the window to report crashes. This happens literally anywhere and anytime in the game. During mission, at the end of the mission, while idling in the Orbiter/base of operations, sitting in the pause menu, checking the settings menu. All kind of possible scenarios. Ah, and DX11 or DX12 make no difference either.

It's driving me - and tech support - insane. Because it is so HARD to pinpoint the root cause! Every log file so far has reported some kind of General Protection Failure (GPF) error followed by different numbers.

I'm running the game on a brand new, pre-built computer from Megaport. Which I moved to from my old potato of a PC back in late November. Specs are the following: Windows 11 Home (build 24H2) Intel Core I7-12700KF, 8x 3.60 Ghz + 4x 2.70 Ghz ASUS Prime Z790-A Wifi DDR5 NVidia GeForce RTX 4070 Dual Palit 12GB 2x 32GB Corsair Vengeance RGB DDR5-6000 1 TB SSD 1000 Watt PSU

I have done everything tech support has suggested me to do and: - Uninstalled and re-installed the game, - Update drivers. Being a new computer, everything is pretty much up to date. I had to do a clean install for the GPU drivers only using DDU, though, - Verified game files, - Emptied the shader cache on the drive game is saved to, - Repaired Steam library, - Lowered graphic settings, - Attempted to launch and run Warframe in Clean Boot mode to exclude background programs/services <- unsuccessfully; Steam didn't work at all (which I kind of figured would happen) and trying to launch the game straight from the launcher...triggered a download of the game files in the App Data folder on main (C) drive. O_o The random crashes don't even appear in the Windows Event Viewer. Nowhere to be found. And believe me, I have looked into every single category. I've been keeping track of the time(s) of the crashes but, alas, found nothing that could possibly be related to those. (also, I'm not a computer expert so perhaps I'm doing things wrong)

So far, the only weird thing I've noticed is...Most of the times there seemingly is a "break" in between each series of crashes. A few days at worst, 10-12 days at best. Yes, I checked even the Task Scheduler utility on Windows. Found no program/app that runs automatically that matches with the timing/days when the crashes have occurred so far.

Really losing my mind to this. It's frustrating, it's unnerving, it's making me genuinely terrified of playing the game. And the reason I got this PC in the first place was being finally able to play my favorite game without worrying about being unable to because of my old (and obsolete) machine! Because I don't know when the next crash shall decide to happen and oh boy it's gonna be so fun losing progress. Or having a couple of players reasonably angry at me for suddenly poofing as host. I'm really sorry about that, folks.

I'm already considering the option of total formatting this computer, should there be no other way. But not before entirely giving up. And maybe make things a little less complicated for tech support team.

I can't thank these guys enough for their help and most importantly patience over the past month and half. This mess has been handed to three different people already and a solution hasn't been found yet.

So, if there are fellow Tenno on Tumblr who have either experienced something like this before and found a fix or are just more knowledgeable about computers and whatnot, your help would be GREATLY appreciated. ;.;

EDIT: I forgot to mention a few important things! - Hardware temperatures are within optimal range while in game (CPU never above 65°C, GPU has been running ice cold and has rarely exceeded 50°C so far, RAM is chilling at 45°C average). - GPU memory usage averages around at max (peak) 77% on HWInfo. - CPU usage I honestly need to check! D: - Ran disk cleanup, scans with sfc, chkdsk and DISM (all through command prompts ran as admin) and no issues were found. - Checked RAM health as well with Windows' memory diagnostic tool. However, it seems to give many false positives even on perfectly functional RAM banks. Looking for a more reliable alternative. - Warframe is the only game that keeps crashing on this PC. I haven't been getting any with other games/programs (Hades II; need to test how Ultrakill performs) or any warning signs (BSODs, freezes, sluggish PC, etc) that could suggest hardware failure.

[cakerybakery]

Back on the desktop so I'm able to post this outside of the Pregnant Adam Cult community.

I got inspired by the Omiltemi cottontail rabbit spotting in the news and wrote Breeding Meat - Task Failed. This is the slightly edited and cleaned up version that I posted on AO3

-

Rare and cornered, Naga Lucifer was ready to devour Adam, only to smell that Adam was pregnant.

Why eat one rabbit when he can keep Adam and eat the babies in a couple of weeks? He’s a rare dish after all.

So he takes Adam back to his den. He feeds the rabbit to keep him nice and plump. Adam is fastidious, though. Cleaning the underground den of bones, shed skin, and rot. Even if he’s trapped and Lucifer is going to eat him and his babies, he’s not giving birth in a disgusting mess.

Adam basically takes over as he starts to nest. Nipping at Lucifer if he disturbs Adam's bedding. Yelling at him when he dumps the bones he doesn’t digest from his meals on the floor. He came in covered in mud once, and Adam hissed at him until he took a bath. Lucifer was tempted to just eat Adam anyway. One big meal now that Adam was too big to do much.

His meal was getting antsy, though. Muttering to himself as he stopped eating.

“They’re late.”

“Who?” Lucifer asked from his warm spot in the sun by the window.

“The babies. They should have been born by now.” Adam paced in his nest. Moving the soft grasses and leaves around, rearranging flowers yet again.

“In a hurry for me to eat them?” Lucifer chuckled.

Adam shot him a dirty look and made the same promise: “I’ll die before I let you harm a hair on their bodies’.”

“You’ll die either way.” Lucifer got up anyway. Adam’s pacing was annoying. “Is there anything that will hurry them along?”

Snorting, Adam continued to fuss. Kneeling in the grasses and pushing it around. “Sex helps. But I’m not going to lure some other rabbit in here for you to eat.”

Sex helped? Lucifer could do that. He didn’t usually fuck his meals, but Adam’s pussy was inviting.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been watching the rabbit the past few weeks. The way his tail twitched, the fluff on his backend framing that bare cunt when Adam bent over, how he smelled, and his pussy always looked so wet.

More than once, Lucifer had to hold himself back from tasting the juices between Adam’s thighs. From grabbing fistfuls of Adam’s engorged tits and tasting the mammal’s milk.

Lucifer slithered up behind Adam, took Adam’s hips in his hands, and pulled back against Lucifer’s unsheathed double pricks. Adam moaned as the twin cocks rubbed against his cunt, searching for a way inside of him.

“Lucifer?” Adam panted, his belly large with his litter dragged against the ground as he was thrust against.

“Sex helps, right? It doesn’t have to be a rabbit.” The tips of Lucifer’s cocks nudged each other as they teased Adam’s opening, pushing in enough to make Adam push back to get more in, only for Lucifer to pull back.

He teased the rabbit until Adam begged; only then did Lucifer bury himself into Adam's tight heat.

Adam cried out in pleasure. “By the trees, you’re so big.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Lucifer rocked in and out. He’d never been in a cunt so warm before. Were all mammals this great feeling? So fucking warm. His dicks had never been this hard before. It gave him lots of energy to pick up his pace.

“Lucifer!” Adam moaned, and Lucifer could feel Adam’s cunt spasm around him. He reached around and played with the small cock he found there. Stroking him in time with Lucifer’s thrusts. Lucifer wrapped his tail around Adam and prodded the tip into Adam’s mouth.

Adam opened wide, and Lucifer shoved the tip into Adam’s hot, wet mouth. Moaning as his face was fucked, Adam sucked on the tip of Lucifer’s tail like a cock.

Lucifer pulled out, and Adam whined with need until Lucifer stuck his fingers into Adam’s pussy to coat them, then he worked on opening Adam’s ass.

Looked back over his shoulder, Adam looked unsure.

“It’s okay, my little breeder; your master will take good care of you.”

Adam’s eyes rolled back with pleasure as Lucifer lined himself back up and filled both wet holes of Adam’s.

Lucifer played with the tip of Adam’s cock, wishing he was big enough to wrap himself around and suck on Adam’s prick. He wanted to be a breeding ball of just the two of them. But Adam’s pregnant belly got in the way.

Once Adam had the babies, Lucifer was going to do this again. He was going to breed his little rabbit. Every night he was going to fill Adam’s every hole and pump cum into his pussy. Month after month he’d impregnate his mate. Rabbits grew fast; nagas were self-sufficient the moment they hatched.

He was going to keep Adam fat and pregnant. Their babies wouldn’t need their mother for long, and then Lucifer could impregnate Adam again.

Adam came from his cock and cunt. He was starting to go limp, moaning as Lucifer’s tail kept his mouth spread and drooling. His eyes were half-closed, and Lucifer knew he’d fucked his mate to exhaustion.

Lucifer filled Adam’s ass and cunt with cum and pulled out. He helped Adam onto his side to rest and encircled Adam to cuddle.

The sun had set when Lucifer was jolted awake by Adam’s claws digging into his hands. “Babies.” Adam moaned. “Babies are coming.”

Lucifer realized the wet mess between them wasn’t their cum but birth water. Before Lucifer could get out of the way, Adam bore down, and there was a small screaming infant in his lap.

He panicked and pulled his hands from Adam's now-loose grip. Lucifer picked the baby up, sliced through the cord, and gave him to Adam to nurse and keep warm.

Unsure what else to do, Lucifer used the grasses to try and clean up the mess from them. He didn’t get far before Adam was clawing at the ground again, and another wet baby was deposited into the soft grass.

Moving that one up to Adam as well to feed first, Lucifer grabbed clean bedding and laid it down. To his panicked mind, he seemed to be constantly moving babies from between Adam’s legs to his chest.

Exhaustion made Lucifer shake, and he counted five babies full of milk and asleep beside their tired mother.

“Are you going to eat us now?” Adam groaned. He didn’t have the energy to lift his head.

“No.” Lucifer gathered even more grasses that Adam had made Lucifer fetch for him as he built his nest.

The idea of eating his mate's litter made him a little sick, seeing them being born even more so. Maybe he could become a herbivore? Or at least only eat things that came from eggs from now on. He never wanted to look at another mammal as a meal again, not now that he was intimately aware of how they were birthed.

Fish. Yeah. He was going to learn to eat fish. They were supposed to be wet.

“After that, I don’t think I can eat another mammal.”

Adam eyed him up. “Does that mean we’re free to go?” 

“If…” Lucifer didn’t like the idea of his mate leaving. He still wanted to impregnate his mate over and over. Fill the forest with their hybrid babies. “If you want. I won’t force you to stay any longer.” He’d keep his meal captive, but not his mate. “If you don’t wish to be my mate. Then you’re free to go.”

He left the nest to curl up in a corner of the den. Leaving the entrance open, instead of barred shut like normal. Lucifer lay in the cold and went to sleep.

The warm sun woke him, and he could smell even before he opened his eyes that Adam was gone.

All Lucifer could smell as he flicked his tongue was the dirty grasses, the stink of mammal birth, and—he sniffed the air and slithered to the nest. Under the grasses were five bare and blind kits. One was a bit more uncovered than the rest, and it mewled and shivered.

Lucifer recovered it with clean grass and tried to shush the baby. Warm again, the baby went back to sleep, and Lucifer was left to ponder where Adam had gone.

He poked his head out of the den and caught sight of Adam returning with clean nest materials and munching on a bushel of flowers and grasses.

“Adam?” Lucifer rushed from the den to Adam’s side. “You didn’t leave.”

Shrugging, Adam finished his nibbling. “If you’re not going to eat us, then there’s no safer place to raise babies.” He shifted the bundle in his hands. “Besides, I want to be stuffed again, like you did the night before, my mate.”

Lucifer paused in his slithering at that. Adam called him his mate. 

Getting ahead, Adam’s tail twitched enticingly. “The babies will be getting hungry soon. You make a mating nest as I feed our children, and after they’ve gone back to sleep, you’re going to mate me again.”

There was no room for questioning Adam’s orders, and Lucifer didn’t want to. Whatever his fluffy mate wanted, Lucifer would give him. He couldn’t wait to fill Adam’s belly with another litter.

[homestuckreplay]

New Year, New Trolls

(page 1089-1099)

So far, every scene of Homestuck has taken place on John, Rose, Dave or Jade’s birthday. I’m also really excited that the Dave flashback we got a glimpse of on page 1073 is real and here, even if his city looks miserable in December. And page 1089 includes an absolute top tier line: ‘When [John] sees your staggering gesture of sentimentality he will finally understand. He will understand that in the game of facetious sentimental gestures, no one gets the best of Rose Lalonde.’

It’s also fun learning that both Rose and Dave have changed their desktop wallpapers recently! I’m delighted to know that Rose Lalonde’s previous wallpaper was the official art for the Call of Cthulhu card game – sorry, the Foretelling of Fluthlu card game – with a heavy purple filter applied. I believe this edition is from 2008 and Rose is definitely playing it. Meanwhile, Dave has chosen an officially licensed Starsky & Hutch wallpaper, released by Warner Bros. as promotional material before the movie’s 2004 release. Dave has removed the ‘In Theaters March 5’ but kept everything else identical. Ironically, I’m sure.

John’s Letters

John is the sweetest, and I wish he could see more of his own strengths and wasn’t dunking on his own drawings here. His letters are very different to how he communicates via Pesterchum – he’s expressing feelings towards his friends far more strongly here, and he’s also showing a deeper understanding of them than usual. It must be easier for him to express himself with that extra layer of distance, having time to think about his words and knowing that he won’t get a direct response.

John casually drops that Rose has been his friend ‘all these years’, so they’ve known each other since they were… 8 or 9, maybe? That’s a reasonable age to be on the internet and proficient with typing, and see each other as old friends by 12 or 13. I mean, they’ve probably been friends for 4 years and 13 days at the start of the story, so that fits.

John knowing what a wet T-shirt contest is feels pretty jarring, and totally came from whatever movie he watched the night before writing this. More obviously in character is John saying ‘they're totally authentic! they actually touched ben stiller's weird, sort of gaunt face at some point’ in his December letter to Dave, and then using the exact same phrasing via Pesterchum the following April - ‘you do realize they touched stiller's weird, sort of gaunt face at some point’ (p.110). It’s also extremely heartwarming that Dave immediately takes off the shades that match his brother’s and puts on the new ones he got from his best friend, and then never switches back. John says ‘i think you just gotta get out of your bro's shadow and spread your wings dude!!!’ and Dave actually listens. That’s a hard thing to do all at once, but a big first step, and it only happened because Dave had support from an actual cool person in his life.

Here’s the thing: John loves his friends. Jade’s visions and their importance suggest that a lot of Homestuck is about predestination, and that it’s possible that at least John and Jade’s meeting was fated or engineered. But even if all four kids only met because of something Jade saw in dreams, that doesn’t create love! They’re still the kids who put in the effort to connect despite all their differences and who go above and beyond to care for each other and show love on each other’s birthdays! At this point John knows nothing about any predestination, he just knows that these people mean a lot to him and he wants them to know that.

Act 3 began with a page titled ‘Dear John,’ (p.759), showing us Nanna’s message inside Colonel Sassacre’s tome, and now we’ve got ‘dear rose,’ (p.1091) and ‘dear dave,’ (p.1097), so I am calling it now that the final page of the act will be a Dear Jade.

grimAuxiliatrix

carcinoGeneticist was a very disappointing and uncreative troll when we met on page 859, but grimAuxiliatrix is a master at work, and their pesterlog with Rose is a joy to read. GA’s gambit of claiming to be an alien out of sync with Earth’s time and used to dealing with species of far superior intellect is hilarious, I would actively enjoy getting trolled by them, and of course Rose would be compelled enough by the game to accidentally in some way fall for it. The ‘beginning every word with a capital letter’ is a nice touch that does make them sound more alien. Rose and Dave’s banter is great but I feel like GA challenges Rose more than Dave does, and definitely has a more similar vocabulary. Describing time as ‘A Utility That A Universe May Resort To In Order To Advance A Desired Degree Of Complexity’ is interesting, and suggests the possibility of a universe that does not utilize time – the Incipisphere, perhaps?

It seems like Rose isn’t fully buying GA’s claim to have spoken to future Rose, but we know from her relationship with Jade that she’s not fully closed off to the supernatural, so I’m hoping this previous/next conversation comes around soon.

adiosToreador

While John and Jade’s instincts are to avoid messages from the trolls, Rose and Dave’s are to play the trolls at their own game. Dave and AT’s conversation is equal parts disgusting and disturbing and contains several phrases I wish I’d never read, and hope to never read again. But essentially they’re playing online gay chicken, and Dave is willing to take it much further. GA referred to a group that is ‘All Already In Agreement’, but they could be a leader of the group, and AT a more unwilling follower who doesn’t take to trolling so well. It seems like they’re going for a mix of CG’s aggression and GA’s wordiness and not really succeeding with either, and having this easy target for bullying brings out the worst in Dave, so I’m not on anyone’s side here. They’re both knowingly trying to upset each other, and I think it is believable that they would talk like this, but I don't want any part of it.

This is also, technically, the act’s title page – Dave drops the phrase ‘insane corkscrew haymakers’ towards the end of the page, in a context I don’t especially want to explore in depth. It’s a fun phrase out of context but I too would block Dave for some of the other stuff he says.

Troll Theories

It would be way too much of a coincidence if, in a story where some locations exist ‘untouched by the flow of time’ of others, these trolls were just regular people on Earth making this all up. I personally think the trolls are currently on the ominous planet, and are specifically trying to cause problems for these Sburb players. I’m not sure if they are part of the game – either a random rival group of players admitted to the same session, or a group of NPCs – or if they’re hackers who have infiltrated this session against the game’s wishes. If they are hackers, they could end up being technically ‘good’ if they’re working against Sburb itself, but will probably still have different goals to the kids.

If they’re planted by Sburb and there are twelve of them aligned with the ominous planet, and only four fighting on behalf of Prospit, this could explain why the forces of light are destined to lose. If that’s the case, the game has a social angle – if Rose can convince GA that it’s smarter to fight for the light, and if Dave can bully AT into doing the same, then John and Jade only need to sway one person each for an evenly matched, fair fight. I also think it’s possible that the Midnight Crew is four of these guys, although I don’t have any thoughts as to which, or to who the other eight would be.

> Dave: Break old sunglasses in annoyance.

[daegustae]

champagne problems | jeon jungkook

pairing ; groom!jungkook x wedding planner!reader.  

genre ; smut, angst | one-shot

summary ; the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy 

word count ; 4.1k 

chapter warnings ; infidelity, smut (18+), oral (f. receiving), bigdick!jungkook, multiple s3x positions, explicit language, creampie, unprotected s3x (yall know better), slight cockwarming, mentions of illness | plot twist at the end dont k!ll me pls 

a/n ; this was inspired by champagne problems obv AND the apartment we won’t share by niki jhsdjds IDK I WAS JUST LISTENING TO IT AND THEN BAM HERE COMES THIS AU . this is not edited. 

¯¨’*·~-.¸¸,.-~*’ •·.·´¯`·.·• `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.· •´`·..íì..·´`• 

“Nothing?” Hobi shakes his head no, pouting as he watches the screen in front of him waiting for a miracle to happen. You look at the letters written on your wall Garam Event Management Studios. It was your dream to have a business like this. An organizer for different types of events. At first, your business was doing exceptional, always fully-booked, never having a free day but better than you’re experiencing right now. Dry and dull. You even had to let go of some of your employees considering that you won’t be able to pay them due to this crisis.

“We won’t last a month” you sigh your head in frustration, thinking about what went wrong in your business. You can’t help but be in denial, this crisis started when your father purposely embarrassed you at that one dinner party, claiming that your business will eventually close down so people shouldn’t bother to get your services. His reason? Because you refused to work at his company where you’ll be the next CEO. To be fair, you were tired of being ordered around and being an office slave.

But humiliating you that night was uncalled for. Especially everything that happened before that confrontation.

“We just have to boost our ads, we used to be in-demand.” used to.

“I’m sorry Hobi, this was because of me.” he frowns, looking at your slump figure on the couch.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” you look at him giving him a pout, suppressing the tears that are threatening to come out.

“Thank you for sticking with me” he nods standing up from his table as he makes his way to you giving you the tightest hug. You are honestly thankful of Hobi, he’s your best friend and out of all people he was the first one to support you with your business, even dropping his corporate job to join you as a full time event coordinator.

“We’ll be fine, it's winter season, who wants a wedding during winter?” you laugh giving him a smack on his head before a ding sound comes out of his computer. You both pull out of the hug looking at each other with wide eyes, scrambling on the couch to stand up and read the letters on his screen.

“We got an appointment” you both scream jumping in excitement.

“We got this” you nod, doing your celebratory handshake before dashing to your own table, ready to contact the services you will need. Hobi focuses on the person who’s making an appointment.

Hobi sighs, you look at him puzzled, reading his face who’s hard to determine at this very moment. You look at him raising your eyebrows as your smile fades. “We got an appointment but it’s your choice if you want it or not.”

“Of course I want it! We can’t choose our customers, we're in a crisis.” you say matter of factly.

“Even if it’s your ex’s wedding?” he says slowly, waiting for your reaction.

“Of course, this is business, nothing personal.” you clear your throat, biting your tongue and proceeding to scroll through your desktop.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure there will be more cus-”

“Hobi, it’s fine. Plus this is good for our business, we’ll get exposure and such.” you give him a reassuring smile. It’s not time to be selfish. It’s been 9 months since that dinner party, you’re pretty sure everyone has moved on from it already, and yet you still remember the atmosphere that day.

“It’s his fiance that booked the appointment, by the way.” fiance you shouldn’t feel bitter hearing that, but somehow there’s a small part of you that aches for the future you planned, aches for him. “She said she chose us because she was a guest to this wedding once, and fell in love with us” Hobi chuckles “And the wedding’s in three days” he adds

“What?” that’s a small amount of time to prepare.

“And she can’t find anyone else to do it because it’s too little time” you sigh you either accept this or you’ll close down this business.

“We have to make this work Hobi, this is our last shot.” you say truthfully he nods looking at you with concern.

“Let's do this yeah?”

-

“Stop fiddling with your pants Hobi” you scold giving him a scowl as you watch him straighten up on his seat. You’re currently in your studio, waiting for your clients to discuss what they want for the wedding.

“I can’t help it, it’s been too long since we last saw him” you nod agreeing, smacking his hands that continue to fiddle with everything he touches.

“Are you the ex?” you whisper-yell wincing as you feel your head throbbing. Hobi looks at you with concern before you shrug him off.

“Funny” you laugh as he rolls his eyes, freezing as the door inside your office opens. Revealing a beautiful woman, and a familiar figure following him. Way too familiar.

“Our couple! Future Mrs. Jeon?” Hobi greets her and nods, giving you both a genuine smile. You stand up from your seat, reaching out to shake her hand in which she excitedly accepts before extending your hand to the man beside her.

“Jungkook” you greet

“y/n” he reaches out for your hand, his warmth engulfing your whole body.

“You know each other?” she gushes

“She was a friend” Jungkook says a friend you nod in agreement. Sitting on the chair and preparing the papers you will need.

“That’s good then! You both can talk about the wedding for tomorrow no? I have to prepare for my dress-fitting and such.” You look at Hobi asking for help in which he understands, changing the subject.

“Let’s talk about that later, okay so here’s the initial plan we prepared for you both based on what we talked about yesterday . You can choose which you prefer, and you can also change anything, just tell us and we’ll continue from there.” they both nod, you can’t help but feel the burning glaze of Jungkook, you look at him, your eyes meeting each other as Hobi proceeds to explain everything.

It’s been so long since you last saw him, nothing changed. He still has the same doe eyes, lip ring, and that mole on his neck. Nothing changed except his heart. You look away, nodding at whatever Hobi’s saying, this is gonna be a long day.

-

“Well we’ll see you on your wedding day?” You tell Hana she nods giving you her bright smile, no wonder he fell in love with her. Her smile is contagious and she seems really kind. You’re happy for both of them.

“Yes! I’m trusting everything to you, for the rest of the plans you can meet up with my husband. I’m really sorry I won’t be there”

“Of course, and no it’s fine. Just rest before your wedding day”

“I’ll see you guys soon” she says excitedly giving you and Hobi a hug, Jungkook waving his hands to the both of you as they walk outside.

You sigh in relief, closing your eyes as you lean your head on the table. Feeling yourself getting drowsy.

“You okay?”

“Mmm just nauseous” 

“I still think you need to tell him the reason you know” you look up at Hobi, frowning at him.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, his wedding is in two days” You stand up kneeling in front of Hobi who has his head low.

“Still it’s unfair” you shake your head laughing lightly, he looks like a child right now 

“Some things are better left unsaid, I’m okay really. And I chose this path, remember?” you can’t help but feel your heart swells, it’s good to know that someone still cares about you.

“I have to talk to our techs, and be on the reception to check the updated stuff tomorrow” you bite your lip, that means it’s just going to be you and Jungkook tomorrow. “Will you be okay alone?”

“Of course! Just business, nothing personal". Clapping your hands feels like you're convincing yourself more than hobi, ruffling Hobi’s hair as you stand up checking the needed items for the wedding so you can present it to Jungkook tomorrow.

-

“And we have this voice message thing booth, where your guests can leave their wishes through this analog phone which is perfect for your wedding theme.” You’re currently at your office as you explain to Jungkook, he listens to you intently, watching in awe as you present him with all the details for his wedding.

“That’s beautiful, you’re good at this” you chuckle with his compliment shaking your head as you list a few things on the paper.

“Thank you, you convinced me to do it” you smile at the memory, you’ve always wanted a job like this, designing and organizing things. At first you were hesitant about it, but when you told Jungkook what you really wanted, he was there to support and encourage you all the way. He even helped you in naming your studio, suggesting Garam which means river. And with a river, you can’t touch the same water twice, it keeps flowing, reminding us that life is fleeting and we should value every second of it. Which by the way is connected with your job, helping every client to remember and enjoy their special day that will pass by eventually. 

“I’m glad you still continue” he states as you look at him in the eyes nodding. “I’m sorry”

“For what” you stand up, compiling all the papers as Jungkook watches you leave your seat.

“My fiance is a huge fan of yours, she really wanted you to be our coordinator” you stop at your tracks looking at Jungkook as you shrug.

“I’m thankful for that Kook, nothing to be sorry for” his heart skips a beat, the nickname you gave him to him before feels like a knife jabbing through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this way.

“I waited for you, you know” you take a deep breath, watching Jungkook make his way to where you are standing.

“I’m sorry” you tell him sincerely “I’m just glad you found what you deserve” he nods taking a step forward, reaching out as he puts his hands on your hips. Leaning your forehead to his.

“What are you doing?” you know this is wrong, but you didn’t fight back, feeling the familiar warmth pulse through your whole body. “We shouldn't” you whisper to his lips.

“We shouldn’t” he repeats before he’s pulling away from you. You watch him clear his throat nodding his head as he makes his way to the door. You didn’t dare to look at him turning your back away from him waiting for the sound of your door opening and closing.

You gasp as you feel your body getting spinned. Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Kissing each other like there’s no tomorrow, pulling away to catch your breath only to put your lips on his again. His lips taste like poison, it burns you. Your hands wander each other’s bodies, exploring and holding each other like there’s no tomorrow. Because there isn’t.

You find yourself on fours on the couch with Jungkook, moaning as you feel him lick your pussy, eating you out with no mercy. “F-fuck”

“Are you still on the pill?” he asks from behind you, you nod watching his dick slap his stomach. “Good”

You feel his length enter inside you, both of you moaning in unison as he penetrates your walls. You clench your jaw at the foreign feeling. It’s been so long since he’s been inside you, you forgot how big and long he is.

“So tight princess, relax” he soothes you by kissing your neck to your shoulders. Tracing your spine as you arch your back. He starts thrusting inside, holding on to your hips for leverage. He feels your walls tighten, as he hits the spot he has always known.

“P-please” you have no idea what you’re begging for, but Jungkook knows you. He pounds inside you leaning his body on yours as you feel his weight on your back, only adding to the pleasure.

“You close?” you cry in pleasure, Jungkook lifts your body as he sits up without pulling out of you, making you put all your weight on his chest.

“Spread your legs” you do as he says, spreading your legs as he continues to thrusts inside you, this position sending you into a frenzy. You can’t help but look down, watching your pussy swallow him deliciously. He growls as you bounce, meeting his hips to get you there.

“I’m cumming” your legs shake as Jungkook repeatedly hits your spot. Putting all your weight on him this time as he massages your breast with his left hand, the other rubbing your pussy. You feel his breath on your shoulder, tilting your head on the side to chase his lips. Your pussy clenches as you feel your orgasm, breathing heavily with Jungkook’s cock still inside you.

“Good girl” he praises, he lays your body on the couch, watching you in your pleasure state, before he’s spreading your legs again. Lining up his length to show you deep he’s gonna be inside you. He spread your remains on his dick, rubbing it before slapping his dick on your sensitive pussy.

You wince making him chuckle. “Take all of me yeah?”

He inserts his throbbing length inside you once again, but this time slower. And intimate. Watching your face turns into pleasure as he brushes the hair on your face with his fingers. He takes his time this time, thrusting inside you slowly, but harder.

You look at his face, rubbing your thumb on his eyebrow as it furrows. You don’t say anything to each other, just feeling each other’s warmth. He kisses your lips delicately, holding your body close to his. You put your arms on his shoulder to his back, nails scratching softly that will be there until tomorrow.

“Almost there” he whispers, you can’t help but bite his shoulder feeling yourself release again. He kisses your forehead, his thrust becoming erratic until he’s cumming inside you. You both quiver with pleasure.He didn’t pull out after that, laying on your body instead. His head on your shoulder as you both breathe heavily.

You gently run your fingers to his hair, you feel him sighs in contentment as you feel your tears flow on your cheek feeling the coldness of his ring on your skin. Even if Jungkook notices your tears, he doesn't say anything, only holding you tighter. You stay just like that, holding and feeling the warmth of each other. Because maybe you both know that this will be the last time you’ll see each other. You both know the consequences and you’ll both suffer from it. Greatly.

You both know this is goodbye.

It isn’t long before you're both putting your  clothes back on, without words. Before you’re clearing your throat. Shame and guilt both eating you alive already. 

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen”

“Like how you pretended I didn’t propose to you that night?” he says sarcastically, you can feel the bitterness of his words. You stand frozen. Not knowing what to say. Getting a flashback of that night.

“Can you at least tell me the reason? I deserve that”

“It was for all of this, you know that.” the lie sits like a venom on your tongue

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” you’re now both facing each other. His eyes meet your glistening ones.

“I’m not telling you to accept that, but that’s the truth, nothing else.”

“You could’ve just told me you wanted this career so bad, I wouldn’t have made you choose. I would have supported you.” you can feel the pain lacing his voice, and you can’t help but let your tears run down your cheeks.

“I know” you sob, Jungkook wants to hold you, but he stops himself from doing so. 9 months and you’re both still a mess. Maybe this was the closure you needed, but not the closure he wanted. He thinks about all the things you could’ve been if you only told him the truth. He can’t help but be offended, you really thought he won’t support you with what you wanted? All those years together and yet you thought so little of him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did” he pauses, shaking his head, chuckling as he finds himself crying as well “The moment you started thinking I would stop you from chasing your dreams” he adds im sorry im sorry. You know no words will ever heal him from the pain you’ve caused. So you shut your mouth watching him leave before stopping to his tracks. Looking back at you one last time.

“Do you regret it? Leaving me?” he asks genuinely. Jungkook needs to hear it from you, so he can move on and stop living with the what if’s. He needs to hear it so he can wake up tomorrow without doubts about his future.

“No” you say without hesitating, staring at his eyes so you can deliver your point.

“Okay” he nods, shutting the door behind him as you fall down on your knees. Clutching your chest as you feel it aches.

“I’m sorry” the doctor looks at you with pity. You nod not knowing how to react.

“How long do I have?”

“12 months based on the size of tumor in your brain” you look at his eyes, hoping that he would be lying and this is a joke. But his eyes have no hint as such. “There’s a treatment but it’s not guaranteed you will live.” so it’s either you die slowly with the treatment or still die without it, except you’ll live shorter. Which is worse? 

You chuckle weakly, so many thoughts running in your mind, how could this be? Why does it have to be you? What will happen to those who you will leave behind?

Jungkook. If you tell him your illness, he would stay and be there for you. But you can’t let him witness you die slowly and suffer for the rest of his life. It will be too selfish for you to deny him the bright future he deserves. You can’t scar him and leave a painful permanent mark.

You’d rather him hate you than suffer loving you.

That night you and Jungkook were invited to a dinner party, and you were planning on breaking up with him for whatever reason you come up with. The guilt eating you alive as he intertwined his finger with yours. Constantly kissing your temples.

That same night, he was on his knees, asking for your hand around your family, friends and colleagues. You dreamt of this day, and you would have said yes if it weren’t for the news you received that morning. You remember the atmosphere that night, it was heavy. Too heavy that you feel like falling down to your knees. But most of all, you remember the confusion and pain written on Jungkook’s face that night, watching you shake your head and run away from the scene.

That very night, your father talks about the business you were starting. Slandering it so the attention won’t be with the failed proposal but your failure as his daughter who refused to take over the company. Your father did all that to save himself from embarrassment. That very night, you lost the remaining care your father had for you.

That night, you lost your bestfriend, your anchor, the love of your life.

That night, your world crumbled down into pieces.

You look around your office, tracing pictures of past events you had on the wall. You started this career because you wanted it, and you had Jungkook’s support. You still continue to do it because it gives you the comfort to plan for other’s future that you won’t have and experience in this lifetime.

-

“Don’t be nervous, just enjoy this moment.” you tell Hana, patting her on the shoulder as she nods. She’s the most beautiful bride you’ve ever met. The kindest too. She engulfs you into a hug and squeezes your body.

“Thank you for everything.” you can’t help but feel guilty, she trusted you. And you fucked his fiance the day before your wedding. And you know karma has bitten you in the ass once you're 6 ft underground.

“I’m sorry” you whisper sincerely, rubbing her back. As if she would know what you did. she gasps, pulling away from the hug before she’s pinching your sides.

“Everything is beautiful, what are you sorry for.” she giggles. Your conversation has died down when the door opens revealing Hobi in a suit.

“Ladies, we’re about to start” he announces, the bridesmaids stand up, shuffling to their feet as they get out of the room to prepare. “y/n, check on our groom one last time please” you gulp doing as he says. Hobi doesn’t know what happened between you and Jungkook yesterday, and you don’t want him to know. Not today, at least.  

“Let me fix that for you” you tell from the doorway, watching Jungkook jump in surprise as he tries to fix his tie.

“Please” you give each other a small smile, so many words left unsaid. And that’s for the better.

“I love her y/n.” He says suddenly, you stop fixing his tie for a moment, good before continuing your actions.

“I know, don’t worry I won’t tell. We’ll pretend it never happened.” you pat his shoulder, distancing from him.

“I really love her, she’s helped me get back up after everything. I will tell her about what happened last night, someday. I don’t want to lose her, I can’t.” you nod understandingly, knowing he’s telling the truth because he used to talk about you like that before.

“I’m happy for you Jungkook” you tell him honestly, this is what you’ve always wanted. At first, you thought you would feel jealousy and pain when you accepted this event. But now, you only feel happiness for the both of them, not even a small part of you feels bitter about this. Just genuine joy and pure contentment knowing Jungkook’s in good hands.

“Thank you.” You both sniff, laughing as you witness each other be a mess. Crying of joy this time.

“Jungkook you’re ruining your makeup”

“Stop making me cry then.”

“I will.”

- The huge doors open, revealing Jungkook waiting at the altar and for a moment you had a glance of the future that you could have had. You wait for the bride to get to the end of the hall before making your way to Hobi who’s busy ordering the staff.

“Hey”

“Hey, you look pale.”

“I’m sick, remember” you say matter-of-factly. Hobi only scowls at you. “Think you can handle everything else here?”

“Of course, is there something wrong?”

“Just tired” he observes your face, before nodding in understandment. Lately, you’ve been experiencing the symptoms, at first it was gradual but you feel it progress every day. One symptom at time, then all of it sometimes.

“You need help? I can drive you home” you smack his arm scolding him.

“They need an expert to stay here. Thank you Hobi” you both share your handshakes, giggling as you wave goodbye. Making one last stop before leaving, you find yourself in front of the voicemail booth. Picking up the phone with the label groom.

“Hey Kook, um, it’s me y/n” You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling awkward talking on the phone with no one on the other line.

“I just wanna say I’m happy that you found love because you’re a wonderful being, and you deserve nothing but happiness and more. I know you will be a great husband, and a loving father because I learned how to love unconditionally from you and I will always be grateful for that. You asked me before if I regret leaving you. Honestly, I don’t don’t regret any of it. I guess the only regret I have is making you wait longer when you could have had all of this sooner. Thank you for everything and I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Here’s to the future