#I will probably get through this one today

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ─�� 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his hair, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[sleepycelestialprincess]

Urgg! I see this e v e r y w h e r e!

I work a lot with art and photographs, I'm an artist, I work as a picture framer, and I also have a lot of experience with the history of photography and photo scanning and retouching.

Something that I see a lot is the expectation that old photographs will look low quality because they are old and new photographs should look good. This is entirely opposite in most cases. There are all kinds of limitations that may cause the quality of a photograph from any age to look good or bad and I'll get into some of those later.

Early photography was typically a daguerreotype or tintype. These are both images that are made directly on the surface that you look at. Meaning that there was no intermediate negative or copy made. The image you see was left there by light that came from the subject, through a lens, and hit that surface. The clarity of that image is limited only by how well the photographer focused the lens. If well made, there is upwards of 4000dpi (dots per inch). If you have a 2"x3" image that is approximately equivalent to at least a 96MP (megapixels or million pixels) image. If its a 4"x5", it'd be 320MP. This far surpasses any of today's highest end digital cameras. There are obviously other factors to consider in the overall quality of an image but these photographs from the mid 1800s if in good condition, look great by today's standards.

I'm not going to go into all the photography formats and sizes from the last 175+ years but I'll mention a few. When your great grand parents had their 5 wedding photographs taken, it was probably with and 8x10 or 4x5 inch large format film. Film of that era was grainier than today but at those sizes, even with making a print, will hold great tonality and detail. I would estimate between 400MP – 200MP in resolution for 8x10 or 4x5 respectively.

When 35mm film was introduced in the 1910s, it was largely criticized as not having enough resolution to make an acceptable image. It didn't really take off until the 50s when film got more detailed, and finer grained. Great improvements were introduced over the decades bringing the resolution from about 10MP (very rough estimate) to today's finest films being equivalent to about 34MP with very smooth grain.

I really don't know what they were thinking pushing out digital cameras when they did. Photographs never looked worse! Even a cheep point and shoot camera with 24mm film (APS film was 2/3 the area of 35mm film) produced images far far better than any digital camera for many years. Many early digital cameras were between 1/3rd of a MP up to maybe 3MP. And they were way noisier than even early film was grainy. Even when digital cameras became acceptable in quality if you had the budget for a good one, they still had limitations below that of film. I feel like the crossover was no earlier than 2005. I could go into detail but this post is getting too long.

Then of course phone cameras entered common use not long after and set us back again to utter trash being petaled as anything worth using for anything. This further lowered people's expectations of what an image should look like. What once would have been scoffed at by anyone, became the average common image. Family's memories being reduced to images not worth even looking at.

Luckily things have gotten quite a bit better again, digital cameras of any larger variety look decent. But I think its a real shame that most family's have completely lost about 15 years of photos because of the onset of digital cameras. I fear that may end up longer for many people, if social media sites ever loose someone's photos, many people will have nothing.

—

I didn't even get into photo and art printing. But many things were very high quality in the past, then got much worse, and hopefully have gotten a bit better again. But a lot of things right now are at their lowest yet, like buttons.

Historical context is of course very useful for important things like Politics and Science and everything, but will also open your eyes to things like, uh... the way the clothing/textile/crafting industries try to use the word "natural" as an excuse to sell shoddy and bad quality goods and make you think that's normal.

God knows there are worse things going on in the world, but it really pisses me off when I see companies advertising "Real Shell/Pearl buttons!" like that's supposed to be some upscale selling point, and the buttons in question are the thinnest, roughest, most crudely-made buttons in existence... 🙄😒 "But they're made from Natural Materials! You can't expect Natural Materials to look refined and consistent like synthetic ones!" They are lying to you. THEY ARE LYING TO YOU! And I know this because I've seen "real shell buttons" from 100 or even 50 years ago. And most of them are sturdy and smoothly polished, of a consistent thickness, and sometimes even finely carved. The buttons on nice men's dress shirts? Those are the cheap, plastic IMITATIONS of what people expected actual mother-of-pearl buttons to look like! "Natural" isn't an excuse! Your product is cheap and badly and lazily made! And I'm so sick of this, because I see it EVERYWHERE. "Linen-look" has become shorthand for "coarsely woven fabric with visible slubs" and that drives me CRAZY because do you KNOW what kinds of linen I have seen??? Antique linen so light and fine and smooth you can't even SEE the weave unless you magnify it!!! A fragment of a linen damask tablecloth so smooth and glossy, it looks like SILK? 😭 (On that note, "dupioni silk" is so roughly woven that it would have been considered hardly fit to sell a century ago) "This fabric is woven of Natural Materials, so imperfections will be inevitable!" 🙃 No! 😀 You just made it cheaply and sloppily, and that was your choice! 😊

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[hyunverse]

midnight ★ haechan.

haechan x gn!reader. fluff, oneshot.

wc: 526 words.

In which Haechan comes home tired.

Haechan’s tired.

You know this because he doesn’t say anything upon entering the bedroom — no rambles about what he ate for lunch, or a corny joke Mark said during practice. He hangs his coat, and walks straight to the vanity to remove his make-up. You don’t say anything — because he must’ve talked to too many people and wanted some silence. Silently, you watch as he wipes off his make-up and steps into the shower. You’re still silent as he steps out, wet hair with a towel hanging low on his waist. You wait until he’s dressed before patting on your lap, inviting Haechan to sit. 

Sit, he does. He crawls onto the bed, seating himself on your lap and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He still doesn’t say anything — in his eldest son fashion. Haechan merely lets out a heavy exhale, as if sighing away the day’s worries. You rub circles on his back and lightly sway your bodies. 

“You did well today baby,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to kiss his temple, “Proud of you.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything but you know he’s listening — he presses his face closer against your neck, his wet lips on your skin like a kiss. His grip around your neck tightens, his body inching closer towards yours. Your senses are overtaken by him — the warmth of his skin, and the smell of his body wash. Just him, him, and him. Gently, you thread your fingers through the black strands of his hair and feel its wetness. 

“Let me dry your hair, baby?” 

“Mm.”

It doesn’t take much convincing to get him sitting on the vanity chair. You begin drying his hair, careful to not tug on the strands too hard. You could feel his gaze boring holes on your body through the mirror. He’s like a boy with a schoolboy crush because when you reciprocate his gaze through the mirror, he blushes. Haechan’s tearing his gaze from the mirror to look somewhere else, the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. 

Cute. 

Once you’re done, you place the hairdryer on the vanity, using one hand to massage your boyfriend’s scalp. Immediately, his eyes flutter close, letting out groans and tilting his head towards you. A chuckle elicits from your lips, as you lean down to press a kiss on his cheek. 

Smells like your moisturizer — you know why you’ve been running out fast lately. 

“I love it when you take care of me,” Haechan whispers. It’s the first time you’re hearing his voice tonight. It’s hoarse, probably from the endless recording sessions. 

“You do?” you say, bringing down your hand to wrap your arms around his neck. Softly, you rest your chin on his head.

Haechan nods before putting his hands on yours. He looks at you through the mirror before tilting his head up, puckering his lips for a kiss. It’s awkward because it’s upside down — nevertheless, you grant him the kiss. He giggles into the kiss, his affection reverberating in every sound. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers — the three words reserved for only you. “So much.”

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒚/𝑴.𝑳𝒆ó𝒏

Mapi was slumped into her chair, arms crossed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. She had barely spoken a word since you both left the house which was concerning in itself because Mapi never shut up. Normally she’d be teasing you or complaining about how early it was, or making some ridiculous joke that only she found funny. But today? Nothing. Just the occasional sniffle and a dramatic sigh every five minutes.

You nudged her gently. “You okay?”

Mapi turned her head slowly, eyes half-lidded, and pointed to her throat before dramatically pretending to cry.

“Oh no, poor baby,” you cooed, biting back a smile as you placed your hand on her thigh and squeezed softly.

She glared at you and grabbed her phone, typing something before holding it up. There, in big capital letters, read,

THIS IS YOUR FAULT.

You gasped. “How is this my fault?”

She sniffled loudly and typed again.

You stole my blanket. I got cold. Now I am dying.

“That is not how sickness works, amor, and you’re not dying, just dramatic.”

She squinted at you like she was contemplating murder, but thankfully, before she could, the media team called her name and she let out the most pathetic attempt at a groan before pushing herself up from the chair. You followed, because you knew she was going to need help. She was supposed to film an interview, answer questions, be her usual charming and slightly ridiculous self. But that was hard to do when she sounded like an eighty-year-old smoker.

As soon as the cameras were ready, Mapi cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak. Nothing. A horrible, scratchy wheeze came out instead, making her sound like a broken door hinge. The crew exchanged glances, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. Mapi looked horrified.

One of the interviewers hesitated. “Uh…do you want to reschedule?”

Mapi shook her head quickly, grabbing her phone again.

No, I am professional.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

She sent you a withering look and started typing furiously. Then she handed you the phone.

You do it. Be my voice.

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

She nodded firmly, crossing her arms.

The media team seemed amused by the idea. One of them spoke up. “So…you’ll answer her questions for her?”

Mapi pointed at you, then gave a thumbs-up.

You sighed. “Fine. But if you make me say something stupid, I swear-“

She grinned,,which was probably the first real sign of life you’d seen from her all morning since you’d dragged her ass out of bed.m

The interview began, and the first question was a simple one. “How are you feeling today, Mapi?”

You glanced at her, and she immediately typed on her phone before shoving it at you.

You read it aloud. “I feel amazing. Very strong. Possibly the strongest I have ever been.”

The interviewer looked at Mapi skeptically. “You…don’t sound amazing.”

Mapi scowled, typing furiously for a second.

You glanced at the screen again.“I am perfect. I am unstoppable. Only weak people get sick.”

Mapi nodded sagely.

You rolled your eyes. “She’s literally dying.”

Mapi nudged you sharply with her elbow, and you yelped.

“Okay, next question,” the interviewer said, clearly entertained. “Who is the funniest person on the team?”

Mapi smirked and started typing.

You took the phone and read, “Me, obviously.” Mapi grinned,and you continued reading. “Also, my girlfriend is very funny, but only on accident. Most of the time, she is just dumb.”

You looked up in outrage. “MAPI.”

She was shaking with silent laughter, and the media team too, was losing it. The interview went on like that, with Mapi answering every question through you, except half the time she was using it as an opportunity to make fun of you.

Finally, the interviewer asked, “Okay, last question. What’s the best part about being in a relationship with your teammate?”

Mapi’s smirk softened slightly, and she typed slower this time.

You took the phone and read, “She makes me happy. Even when she is annoying. And even when she steals my blanket and makes me sick.”

Your heart melted a little. “Oh, Mapi.”

She gave you a tired smile.

Then she grabbed the phone again and typed one last thing.

Also, I am much better at football than her.

You groaned. “I take back every nice thing I was about to say.”

Mapi just laughed well, wheezed- and rested her head on your shoulder as the interview wrapped up.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act I

The main characters star in a television series adapted from bestselling romance novels…

…called Leicester Square.

Hattie Murton plays Iris Pinkerton, “[a] living ghost of a person, so unimportant that she could walk amongst them tonight… She was simply beneath their notice, which made her to all intents and purposes invisible. It was terribly convenient.”

“Anthony [Rafe] was six feet tall and had a swimmer’s build. All lean elegant muscle.”

Anthony plays bad boy, Victor Del Vayo [sp], whose signature look includes – don’t say “pirate coat!” – no, a long cape.

Anthony also has a crazed fan...

"She’d turned up uninvited at his old flat a week later and bribed the security guard to let her in. He’d made it extremely clear to both of them that if the occurrence was repeated, they’d each be departing in a police car or a body bag."

Oh, and there’s a character named “Jake,” whose sexual chemistry with Hattie is described as “sparks in a damp firework,” a point that is driven into the reader repeatedly. The Jakolas “would have probably preferred it if this was a euphemism.” Alas, it is not.

Actual sparks fly between Hattie and Anthony during their scripted love scenes – although, based on the text, they are both drawn to each other before the filming of their season even starts.

“The fans have got you to where you are. We’ve been listening to what the audience is asking.”

“Lady Iris was getting a proper romance arc. Not just a series of mad sexual exploits and single episode infatuations with passing guest stars. A full on – and sweet Christ – a long-running affair beginning with a surprise kiss scene on Monday. Iris was about to fall madly and reluctantly in love with Victor Del Vayo.”

Oh, and did I mention Anthony had “grown up in Mayfair?”

Let’s not forget Anthony is also a writer…

And that Hattie’s loves some “[g]ood ol’ Irish tradition…” because her dad is from Galway.

Then there's this: “’The very sweet Sergeant Llewellyn,’ [Hattie] reminisced. ‘My personal favorite of Iris’s lovers…’”

And, of course, every single mention of Pride and Prejudice...

“[Hattie had] accidently seen [Anthony] in a production of Julius Caesar at The Old Vic last year during their summer break…He’d been arresting, engrossing, heart wrenching.”

Anthony’s character, Victor, wears a signet ring: “The ring was heavy silver. A human skull in profile with a ruby eye that could be spun in its socket.”

Okay, enough about the main characters.

Let's move on to those intimacy scenes…

“Everything felt off today.”

“If Stevie had thought they’d been lacking chemistry in round one, perhaps she’d decided to gift them with a bonding experience. A shared case of fake snogging and induced lockjaw.”

“And now suddenly… you’re touching for the first time in all these years. Lo and behold, caught off guard by the explosion of chemistry.”

“A nerve twitched under Anthony’s firm mouth. He’d well and truly lost the air of bored idleness now and when he put his hands on Hattie’s corseted waist and slammed his body up against hers, pressing her into the wall, there was nothing disjointed and indolent about the maneuver or the way her breath left her in a rush. The actual mechanics behind the lift and spin were controlled and almost shockingly gentle. He concealed one palm behind her back and took the full force of the collision with his own body."

“Hattie found herself treating that drop of perspiration as an almost spotting point, like a ballet dancer keeping their balance during a fouette.”

“A muscle in her neck was starting to cramp, as they paused there artfully for the cameras. She adjusted arching her back in an unscripted gesture that pressed their bodies closer. As her belly rubbed up over his and his sheltering arms flexed, a coiling full-bodied zing shivered through her like the subtlest flooding of spice and warmth and then a jolt of pure fizzing adrenaline… As Hattie watched, still oddly transfixed, his pupils dilated, just a bit."

“For once, or maybe the first time ever, [Hattie] wasn’t excruciatingly conscious of everyone’s watching eye. She felt frozen, distant from the surrounding scene yet conversely hyper aware of every angle and shiver and prickle of her own body…"

“The hallway, the cameras, the rest of the world, it all ceased to exist. Seconds were slipping into minutes.”

[littelovelunette]

Sevika with reader who like talks back too much or maybe wears a dress she told you not to cause it’s too showy so she drags them home and bends her over her knee cane makes the reader count them 💕💕😩 (I let ovulation day me write this my bad)

I get you baby I get you I feel like I'm ovulating 24/7 haha that's why I'm writing so much smut, check out the pinned post and touch yourself mwah thank me later

Red Handprints

Content warning: Mild smut (?), spanking, brat tamer Sevika

Today morning when you finished shower and was picking out some clothes to wear, you started holding up all your cute little dainty dresses to see which one seemed better for the day. But just as you held up a mini dress, Sevika let out a quiet, "Nuh-uh."

She grabbed the hanger of the dress, taking it out of your hands and putting it back into the closet. "You wanna get harassed by goons or something?" She raised a brow, taking a deep inhale of the cigarette before she exhaled it through her nose. "Just looking out for ya'."

"Thanks, but I'm not a kid," you retorted with a fuckass grin and that made Sevika's jaw tighten, you could see the veins of her neck rise a little but she bit back her mean words, swallowing down her anger.

"Don't let me catch you wearing that. You might as well go outside naked," Sevika rolled her eyes mumbling as she walked out, probably for work.

She didn't appreciate you mouthing her off so she didn't bother even saying a simple goodbye.

You smirked a little, "Mission accomplished," you hummed to yourself and giggled before you walked back to the closet, taking the small dress out anyway.

You'd wear it, not just to show off your curves but to ruffle Sevika's feather. And you'd make sure you go into Last Drop so you don't show off too much or seem disloyal, just messing with her a bit.

The bar was a little crowded as you walked inside, you could see her playing poker with the other henchmen.

Her eyes immediately locked onto yours as she gave you a once over, her lips pursing in disappointment.

She got up, throwing some cash onto the table and walked upto you, grabbing your neck, "What do you think you're doing?" Sevika whisper-yelled at you, the scene rof tobacco and alcohol filling your nostrils.

"What?" You feigned innocence.

Sevika, not wanting to cause a scene, picked you up, wrapping you with her poncho, "You're basically in a bikini," she whispered again, as she led you out of the bar.

"Geez, okay, mother," you replied in a taunting tone which Sevika didn't take lightly.

"Apologise," she said, her voice had a final tone but you held your tongue this time before an idea sparked in your brain.

"Make me!" You said, knowing she'd fuck some sense into you.

Well, that's how you ended up over her lap, crying. Sevika smacked a big hand over your ass again.

"I'm starting over. You messed up your counting," Sevika said, pausing before smacking your ass again.

You howled in pain, burying your face in the sheets, red ass perched up by a pillow over her lap, "O-one..."

Sevika slapped your ass again, the smack echoing in your shared bedroom, "Two.."

Sevika continued spanking your ass, each slap harder than the other and she didn't seem like she'd stop anytime soon, not even when you were gasping for air, sobbing loudly.

She seemed to enjoy it, even taunting you through it. Sevika's hand came down in a harsh slap again, "T-t-... Twenty," you croaked and she positioned you on the bed, ass hovering in the air.

"Stay like that, reflect," She walked off to sit down at the edge of the bed as she watched your red ass pushed up, head in the pillows as you cried in pain quietly.

Seviak took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a good inhale, "Think next time before you decide to be a brat."

[ryescapades]

rin itoshi + nsfw + "don't act so shy now" please!!! thank you sm <3

→ EVENT OVERVIEW  

prompt: 11 - “don’t act so shy now,” characters: itoshi rin (bllk) x f!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! overstim, fingering, squirting, implied multiple orgasms, petname (baby), use of y/n once, teasing, lmk if there's more :') wc ~ 1k (not proofread!)

a/n: tysm for participating anon! wrote this as an expansion to this little brainrot i had yesterday

itoshi rin is getting restless.

the heat on the practice field is oddly suffocating, the clothes sticking to his back feels strange and icky, his goals aren’t hitting, his passes are lukewarm at best and impractical at worst, his teammates are more irritating than usual… among other things.

he’s fucking restless, and the aforementioned issues are not even the source of it.

rin slouches on the bench, leg bouncing as he reigns in the urge to literally bite his infuriating teammate's head off who’s sitting beside him and has been prattling on and on about the match. his coach had told him to sit the second half out, considering how much of a joy he had been acting the past almost half an hour.

his phone buzzes again in his duffel bag by his feet, the vibration sending his teeth grinding against each other in agitation. he pulls it out and immediately opens the message app to your contact just as another text from you comes in.

and there it is. the root of all his problems.

‘have i told you i missed you today? no?? i miss you rinnie :))‘ the text reads. and it would’ve sounded completely innocent if not for the image attachment you’d shared along with it.

it’s a selfie of you in the mirror, looking all pretty and absolutely his while wearing one of his jerseys. no pants, no bra, and no underwear. rin found that out from all the other– how many was it again? probably seven or eight pictures you’d sent prior to this one.

a wave of feverishness rushes inside his veins, flowing down south and making his blood boil until he can feel his pants tightening at his groin. his control is persisting on a fine thread, waiting to snap just at the right moment–

his phone vibrates in his hand. one text of ‘i think she misses you too lol’ and another scandalous photo that insinuates the heaven between your ridiculously sinful thighs later, rin thinks his mind has blacked out from that point on. the last of his control splinters and fractures into bits, and he’s already gathering his stuff from the ground before he heads towards the exit with no more than a muttered “i’m going home,” towards his coach.

the drive back feels like a nonexistent event to his brain, and so is the moment he steps through the threshold, teal hues darkening when they connect with your pair of frozen, unblinking eyes as if resembling a deer caught in headlights. “r-rin? you’re back early… how was–”

everything passes by in a blur and the next thing you know, rin has you sat with him on the bed, back against his chest and jersey bunching on your navel as he pulls another earth-shattering orgasm out of you with his fingers. “come on, baby. you can give me one more, can’t you?” he murmurs against your ear.

tears clump your lashes together, and the hitched breath erupts into a broken whine when rin starts another ruthless pace, his middle and ring fingers thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt to make you fall over the edge again.

“rin–” your hips buck in his hold as you barely notice the drenched sheets underneath your ass from how much you’ve been coming. “‘s too much, i can’t–” you whimper, thighs shaking from the overstimulation and threatening to close before rin hooks one of them beneath his and keeps a firm grip on the other, hindering you from hiding away.

“should’ve thought of that before sending those pictures to me,” he tuts against the side of your head and relishes the way you squeeze around his digits, soaking them with your slick and cum even more. his own arousal grows, digging further into your back and pushing against the constraint of his pants as your hand weakly tries to push him off.

wouldn’t be surprising if there’s already a wet patch there but he’ll take care of that later. for now, you need to be taught a lesson first after teasing him like that.

there’s a dirty cacophony of wet squelching sounds, your moans and his grunts that continues to echo in the room. rin pays it no mind, moving his thumb to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit instead. your eyes roll to the back of your head, the constant drag of his deft fingers against your sensitive walls making you delirious and drunk in an unstable cloud of maddening lust.

another broken sound spills from your parted lips as more slick visibly gushes out between his fingers, causing you to turn and hide your reddened face in his neck. “don’t act so shy now. didn’t you say this pussy missed me? i’m just giving her what she wants,” he gruffly says before gripping your chin to make you watch him play with your body as he pleases.

that familiar heat pools in your stomach, burning up your entire body in a flame of carnal desire as your next climax approaches. rin, however, is becoming impatient. he did mentally decide for one last time before he fucks you on his cock, after all.

desperate now more than ever to get on to the latter part of his decision, his fingers keep the relentless pace on your poor cunt as he rests his palm on your lower belly and gently presses down.

there’s a slight pause in your labored pants, the air getting stuck in your throat before you keen, a sharp and dizzying sense of pleasure colliding against your very mind, body and soul like a tidal wave. you’re once again thrown off the cliff, shattering and coming undone with a ruptured cry of his name tearing from your mouth.

“shit, y/n.” he curses, unable to take his eyes off the sight of you squirting on his fingers as his cock throbs even harder, your cum dripping down to his wrist in an obscene trail.

holy fuck, that might’ve been the hottest thing rin has ever experienced in his entire life.

i’m ovulating don’t look at me taglist open !

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[midnight-mourning]

Love Bites

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 8💘💘

Okay okay okay, back on track now, please enjoy this little diaster i made based on @divinit3a's yeti boys, it was, quite fun >:3c

Prompt: umm letseee... valentines...Typically the Sun is not Out.... (for... Reasons... ahah.) but----loves to hunt, and hunt for the thrill/sport/game of it. And loves to eat & eat & would love a properly cooked meal. preference to high protein meals, very rich, very tasty, salty & fatty. so Im sure if u wanted to tackle him, in particular, could have fun with that..... (Slaps a giant fish on the table. Token of affection. Totally Wont Eat You ) The Moon.......... is a lot quieter and subdued, but actually a far better caretaker. takes care of hurt animals; would probably take care of a hurt human, too. mmm hot cocoa. much pickier eater, he doesnt like much, and he doesnt like to eat meat.... I think overall, a 'meal together' would be the best valentines fhgjsdfghjsdf WITH THESE FREAKS IN PARTICULAR...

Word Count: 2907

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The hall is quiet as you step out from your room. You strain to listen for any sign of life, nothing. Must be out. Good. That gives you more time. 

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadowed hallway, not nearly as bright as your windowed room. Though, you weren't opposed to keeping the lights off. It saved energy for one—which meant warm floor beneath your feet as you pad through the facility—and two, it kept the not as friendly yeti from making an appearance. Which, yourself and Moon were both in agreement about at least. 

When you'd first gotten here, so many months ago now, your first encounter with the yeti, robot, thing—you still haven't quite figured that one out—was less than, pleasant. Though, that may very well have been due to the state he first saw you in. Which was bloodied, bruised, and vulnerable. And as Moon would later explain it to you, that had triggered something in counterpart. Something more instinct than logical. 

Luckily for you, a ragged chase into a darkened cavern had saved you from suffering any further injury, or worse. 

Instead, you got Moon, and he was thankfully much calmer than the other bot. He also wasn't trying to kill you, so you took what you could get. He patched you up, gave you a place to stay, a nice warm bed out of the cold, and plenty of things to do while you recovered. 

When you'd first ventured out into the snow, having heard the rumors of the 'ice devil' you'd be facing, this hadn't been what you'd expected. 

Delivish upon first glance, sure. Those tusks didn't help anything, that's for certain. Not to mention Sun as a whole, the manic energy he radiated, the wild look in his eyes, the raw strength as he'd pinned you down to "Try a bite"—

But still, with Moon at the very least, the rumors didn't match up. 

He was quiet, even a bit stern in certain cases, but polite. He took his directives very seriously, but beyond that, he held a compassion you wouldn't ever have expected of a machine. Though, maybe it was because he was a bit more than that, they both were. 

Regardless, you owed him for not abandoning you out there in the frozen tundra to die. Much less putting in the effort he had to care for you.

As you traverse the hall now, there's only the slightest pain still left in your ankle as you shuffle. You'd left the crutches behind today, as you had been the past several mornings, despite the lunar-themed yeti's insistence for otherwise. 

That was another thing, the care. For a so-called devil, he had the attitude of a saint. Or well, you didn't know any saints, so a good friend then. A very good friend, at that. 

You found yourself in long conversations that would last hours, either listening to that quiet tone regale you with stories of all his travels, or sharing some of your own experiences prior to meeting them. You enjoyed the walks you'd take together through the caverns, or going with him out into the arctic—on the rare trips he would allow you with your injury—to scout for poachers and the likes. 

And those rare moments you could get him to laugh at one of your jokes, it lit something inside you that you couldn't describe. Something that albeit would be a bit more frightening than it already was if not for your situation. 

You think the combination of getting your foot caught in a bear trap, freed and then chased by a rabid yeti-bot, and then saved by the other side of that same yeti-bot, allowed you some freedom when it came to your feelings. 

But that wasn't the point to what you were doing. Rather, you wanted to show your appreciation for Moon, not your feelings. Nevermind the fact that today did just so happen to be Valentine's, having found out by checking the date on your half-dead phone. 

Besides, You didn't even know if it was even possible for him to return such affections. Truthfully, you preferred not knowing if it meant you could keep this peace you've had for so long now. You were almost afraid for when you fully healed. 

Afraid that the moment you could leave, you'd be kicked out, back into the cold to survive to find your own way back to society. That the past few months were nothing but a ruse, set up by Moon and in fact once you were at a good range, your back turned and unaware, Sun would bear down on you and—

You shake your head, no. Despite your initial encounter, Sun had been fine. He wasn't allowed out much, so you didn't speak much, though you also think he would prefer not to. It didn't necessarily have to do with you in particular, you don't think. 

Whereas Moon was more oriented to stay on task, Sun had his own personal drive to fulfill. You'd yet to figure out exactly what that was yet, however. Besides the desire to hunt and kill just for the thrill of it. Whatever it was, with your injury, you simply didn't fit into it. You had no use—for now—so he left you to your own devices. 

For now. 

You flip on the light to the kitchen area as you enter, dimmed lighting now illuminating the space. 

You'd been surprised to find there was indeed working cooking equipment in the research station. Not originally all in the same space, but with a bit of help, you'd dragged everything functional into one space. 

When it came to ingredients, you didn't have much to work with besides what either yeti brought to you. There was some very old canned food you'd found, and several containers of unopened spices, but beyond that it was slim pickings. The crate of hot coco you'd found had been a godsend. Considering the situation though, you weren't going to complain. 

The idea of making a meal had come from the simple fact of the matter that beyond hunting and protecting, Moon nor Sun did much else. So, providing nourishment would have to be your way to pay back their hospitality. Or at least, Moon's hospitality. If Sun enjoyed something you made, you'd consider that in and of itself a victory.

So, you set to work immediately. Opening the fridge, you pulled out one of the the few items in there, a massive bluefin tuna, which took up the majority of the space. You struggle to take it out, much less carry it with wobbling limbs over to the island. When you put it on the counter, you almost swear you hear it creak under the weight. 

You step back and let out a breath, admiring the giant fish for a moment. While the two really only ate for fuel—a fish like this would just simply be devoured as is from what you'd seen—you knew they could taste, and that when presented with chances to try something that was flavored in some regard, they did seem to enjoy it. Especially Sun, having taken one bite of your beef jerky and snatching the rest away for himself when you'd not been paying attention. 

Though you only had the one fish and just a few other ingredients to work with, you had several ideas in mind for how to properly utilize it. Taking the large butcher knife, you cleaned, gutted, and scaled it, and divided it up into proper pieces. 

The loin you'd make steaks out of, pan searing and basting in fats, utilizing the bit of pepper and spices you had available. You set aside three to cook and stored the rest in the freezer. 

The back you would smoke, creating some jerky from the pieces there. Thankfully, Moon kept firewood around in case the power failed entirely, and you doubted he would notice a few pieces going missing. You'd utilized one of the broken freezers for your smokehouse. 

The belly would be raw, sliced thin and served with a bit of the salty roe that you'd discovered inside the fish initially. 

As for the remaining bits of the fish, you'd stew the bones for a broth and fry the collar and cheeks as one final touch to finish off the meal. 

It was a lot, all things considered, and for them it may very well be next to nothing in comparison to their appetites, especially Sun's. But, that wasn't going to deter you from trying your best to make something from your heart. So, you got to work. 

You had no idea when Moon would return, so you tried your best to work both quickly and effectively. Thankfully, since several items were basic prep, they took very little time to come together. You enjoyed it, the process overall. After all the time being spent on you, being able to give back felt gratifying in its own way, exciting even. Again, ignoring your own feelings about the yeti. 

At some point, you even find a small radio, the batteries still good to your delight. Despite your location, you can just barely catch a signal as sappy love songs play from some far away station. You hum and dance and sing to the music as you cook, the time passing by like nothing to you in your focused state. You even are able to make yourself some hot coco, sipping on it throughout the cooking process. 

You're so focused, even, that you don't notice the towering presence hovering around the other side of the counter until you turn directly to face it. You were just setting down the last bit of the meal, ready to sit and wait for Moon's return, so color you shocked when you find yourself face to chest with Sun instead. 

His head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, expression unreadable as he examines you with that calculated stare.

"You've been busy." He states. 

You come out of your daze, shaking your head. "I-yeah. I have."

"Tore up the meat. A pity. I was going to enjoy that." He picks at one of his claws, you see a hint of red stained there before he glances back up to you, grin wide. "Though, it's not nearly as good as when it's fresh, anyhow."

You both know that fresh isn't quite what he's implying. 

You swallow, while you'd been expecting Moon—and would have preferred him, especially in this case—this was technically a gift for the day-themed yeti too.

Deciding you weren't going to let your lingering fear overtake you, you straighten up, and steady your voice. "This is all for you, actually. And Moon, of course. I, wanted to extend my thanks for, allowing me to stay these past few months." This again was technically all for Moon, but you couldn't exactly say that with Sun standing right in front of you. 

"I—Me?" He questions, eyes widening and grin falling. 

You nod. "Yeah, I um, figured that something made with a bit more care might be something you guys liked. I noticed you never really get the chance to... add more flavor to things, and you seemed to like my snacks in the past so, i just—" You stop when you find that he's eye to eye with you now, baring down on you with a serious expression you weren't anticipating. 

"You made us, me, a meal?" The way the words are half-snarled mere inches from your face makes you flinch. 

"Y-yes?"

Sun stares at you for a bit longer, and if you weren't so alarmed you'd move away. But you don't. 

After a few moments more, he huffs, then starts to chuckle, standing straight again. "Aren't you just so interesting, Little Star?" 

You feel confusion knit your brows only for them to shoot up in shock as Sun's hand suddenly grasps your chin, leaning in again. 

His other hand snatches one of the pieces of raw fish from the table, eating it in one bite. "Such an offering from you is, surprising but, despite your, obvious misconceptions about our relationship, I suppose I can consider it." He tilts your head this was and that. "You're not the worst option I've ever been presented with."

"I, huh?" 

He let's you go again, grabbing one of the steaks with his bare hands. His teeth tear through it like it's nothing. You can only watch as you try to understand what he's saying, not entirely comprehending it. 

When he's finished, he wipes his mouth, snickering to himself. "I certainly can't wait to see what he thinks of your proposition. I'm sure it will be entertaining to say the least."

Before you can respond, he walks over to the light switch, dimming the lights as low as possible, thus allowing for Moon to take his place. 

As the switch occurs, Sun makes one final remark, and it all finally clicks to you. "Something you should keep in mind though if I do accept, Sunshine, is that I don't share."

With that, you're left with an embarrassing realization, and Moon. 

You can't make eye contact with him, instead turning around and starting to busy yourself with cleaning up to distract from the burning feeling spread across your cheeks. 

You can't believe you didn't put together that something like this would mean something like that to them. But it's not like you would have known either! How were you supposed to understand the cultural differences between humans and yeti-robots that lived in abandoned research centers? This feels like something that was on them and not you to be honest. 

Your half-delusioned reasonings do nothing to stop the racing in your heart as you clean, and you just hope to finish up quickly, grab a snack for yourself, and get out of there to keep yourself from any further embarrassment. 

"It's very good, Starlight."

You pause for a moment, then hum. "Y-yeah?"

"Yes. The amount of flavor you've packed into each dish is... incredible." Moon says, sounding genuinely a bit in awe. 

It only worsens your state, mumbling back a quiet response. "I'm, I'm glad you like it."

Quiet between the two of you. The radio still plays softly throughout the space, only disrupted by the sound of clinking as you clean things up, or Moon's utensils scraping against each other. 

"So what Sun said—" "You should eat too—"

You both stop, and looking back to him, you laugh softly. 

You nod. "You first."

"Join me." He pats a seat next to him. "It's only fair after the effort you've put in."

"Oh! Okay." 

You try not to make a fool of yourself as you make your way over and sit down. You can only protest as Moon piles you a plate full of food, depositing it in front of you once he's finished. 

He hands you a fork, chuckling at the scowl on your features. "You need your energy too, if you want to stand any chance at getting better."

"You're not wrong." You sigh, taking a bite of the smoked fish. As you'd hoped, it's delicious, and you appreciate your own efforts to make such good food in that moment. 

"So,"—Moon reaches for a bit of the fried collar—"You were saying?"

You almost choke on the bite you just swallowed. You regain your composure to answer. "I, um, Sun mentioned, that um, something like this was very, very, important to you guys in a specific way. Which, honestly I didn't know and I'm so sorry if I've offended you I just wanted to do something nice—"

You're interrupted by a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

"I would say offended is nowhere close to the feelings you've elicited. Honestly." The night-themed yeti states, amusement between the words. "Rather, I find myself rather interested in your proposal, intentional or not."

Your eyes widen ever further. "Pr-proposal?"

"If I'm misreading, then I am sorry, Star. But I—"

"No!" You shake your head, trying again. "No, you're not um, misreading. But again this wasn't my intent at all. I'm definitely all for it. I mean, to a point you know, sorry this isn't something I ever expected to happen but I really do like you, a lot and—"

Instead of a kiss, a piece of tuna is pressed into your mouth, and with how good it is you can't say for sure that you'd prefer the kiss or not. As you chew, a slight scowl on your features, Moon laughs. It makes your heart flutter for a moment. 

"I really like you too. I wasn't sure that you'd feel the same, so I didn't act on those feelings. But, since you've shown that you clearly feel something,"—He snickers as you shoot him another glare—"For me, I'm more than happy to make it clear to you now."

"Gee, thanks." 

Another kiss is pressed to your hair, arm wrapping around you and you welcome it, snuggling into the warm fur next to you. You grab a piece of tuna, munching on it to hide your fluster in that moment. 

"And since he's already said it, I will too." Moon's voice is right next to your ear in that moment, low but lethal. 

"I don't share either."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @divinit3a!! I had lots and lots of fun with the yetis and i can't wait to see what else you do with them yourself, i may perhaps do a bit more when I find the time hehehehe

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

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[rinsko]

THAT FUNNY LITTLE GIRL ♡ GOJO SATORU

he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

papa! gojo washes his baby’s hair, what could go wrong! jumping thru the timeline, multiple times. sfw, fluff. approx. two thousand word count. he is filled to the brim with love.

“daddy?” his baby calls for him, satoru, who happens to be sitting right beside her bathtub— criss-crossed legs, paying less and less mind to the cold tile floor that’s making his skin shiver, and more on what she has to say.

“yeah baby?” he’s just down the hall, but you’ve begun to pick apart how his voice, with every syllable, sounds so fond when he speaks to her: his very precious girl.

you hear the gentle hum she hums for a quick second, the mumbling, jumbling of her words as she sorts out what she wants to say and then, “why’s the sky blue?”

★ ‎

there’s a bathtub marker in her hand when she asks, the very same ones satoru was so incredibly persistent on buying at your last shopping store run—

“bathtub markers?” he hears the quirk in your eyebrow before he has a chance to see it, holding the pack of eight in his hand like it’s the greatest invention yet.

“yup! we need them!” he stands side by side with his mini me— matching pairs of silly puppy dog eyes appear on their faces and a dramatic pout fixed to both their lips.

he whispers what he thinks you won’t hear, covering his lips behind the palm of his hand as he kneels to her side. “pst…” he hisses comically loud, “we need to say please, sunshine.”

“pease!” no please, (she’s much cuter about this whole ordeal than he is—) she nods her head as she swings her feet back and forth, fluttering without a sound.

could you guess what’s harder than saying no to her? satoru would vote it’s probably saying: goodbye!

your heart aches lovingly, too impossible to resist— “‘toru, it sounds like you want them more than she does.” grabbing the bundle of markers, you flip them to the side, skimming through its directions and their warnings.

“me?!” he says in the least dramatic tone he could possibly mutter, “are you denying our baby of an artistic future?” and then there’s a hand over his face again. he covers the gasping motion he’s currently molded into, “that she’s not destined to be the next picasso?”

“she’s three! how would you know?” funny grins paint over both your faces because it’s a bittersweet thought: her future, who’ll she be and what’ll become of her.

“there’s an artist inside that little heart, i can feel it.” he’s determined to stick to the skit, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing with a promising certainty for it all.

it’s even funnier when he knows he’s won too: when you hand over the markers to your baby’s pudgy fingers, he has that face plastered on. same one as every other time he’s won you over on something hilariously trivial.

“so honey,” focusing, you decide to actively ignore the cutest dimples on the corner of his smile, “what will you draw when you get home today?”

“f’owers” she points at the red marker, “more for you!” an obvious reference to the dozen roses she’s seen on the dinner table.

“you’re so sweet! i know you’ll draw me the prettiest flowers, my love!” you kiss the tip of her nose as tiny pearly whites form a cheeky smile in return— “ahem.” satoru follows slowly behind you both as you begin to stroll down the aisle again.

“and for daddy,” the coast is clear so you take the chance to stop and spread your arms as wide as you can, “you draw him the biggest, blue sky that matches his eyes!”

she giggles at the dramatics, your stretched out arms and satoru’s loving gaze directed toward you— she mimics these two things. “big sky ‘nd daddy!” and it’s true, your satoru carries the big sky wherever he goes.

★ ‎

“uhmm..” he thinks hard about it, rubbing the nape of his neck, setting his glasses down to the side— how exactly do you explain the color of the sky to a toddler?

he scoots in a little closer now, splashing sounds echoing around while she fidgets with the other toys in the bath, “so, the light from mr. sun is made of all the colors of the rainbow. do you know which ones?”

satoru picks out the markers in the same exact pattern he’s memorized— red, orange, yellow, green in her hand, blue, and the purple that seems the closest to violet.

she doesn’t sound very interested, yet. but you doubt it as long as there’s paddling turtles wound up and clicking across the bubbly water; her attention’s obviously elsewhere.

satoru uncaps the yellow marker first: forming one big, rigid circle against the shower wall that represents the sun— followed by streaks of all the other colors in his hands stretching away from it, representing light.

“like this,” he says, “all the colors of the rainbow.” he returns the green marker she had at first, happily holding onto the object again.

“but ms. earth,” a cake of blue forms as the felt tip rolls around in one spot, “likes blue the best. so, she makes her sky blue.” and with that, your baby blinks up at him like a doll— eyelashes pinched into the perfect curl, and he wonders if he’s only confused her even more.

“oh.” it’s funny how somber-toned she sounds— oh, the same tone you’d use after hearing the most unbelievable truth (or a lie!) the utter shock, the disbelief… that oh.

“just kidding!” he gleams brightly now as she watches. apparently, it had been enough to grab her attention even for the slimmest second.

satoru drops the markers back in the bathtub net where she had placed them, settling within her reach.

“the sky’s blue because daddy’s eyes are blue.”

and if he gleams, his baby does too, “i knew it!”

(he promises to explain himself to you a little later. surely, hopefully, you must forgive him and his little, white lie!)

“oh, you did?” satoru settles his knees as close as he can to the tub now, minimizing all the space he can as he reaches for the shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub, “isn’t my little girl so clever? yes, the smartest!”

she giggles, water splashing around as she moves closer towards her daddy’s arms— completely used to this routine by now, “mm, like papa.”

once he squeezes the bottle, he thinks his heart’s being squeezed too. watching chamomile-scented soap pour onto the palm of his hands, he smiles. “you think i’m clever, sunshine?”

“sometimes.” but she’s off in her own little world again, drawing on the wall with her favorite turtle beside her.

he supposes he will take what he can get.

with a gentle rinse to her hair, satoru begins to form a gentle lather along the crown of her head, “i want to be a clever daddy for you,” he says.

you know it comes with no thought, as if the words have simply fallen out and onto his tongue before they’ve finally reached his head, “a good papa.”

and it’s happened so frequently, he jokes with you about how she must have some sort of technique to pull out the honest truth from anyone— even without trying to.

“you just love her, satoru.”

★ ‎

amidst the grogginess of the morning and eyes closed shut, you tell him that much. it’s all you can grumble out when your firefly of a husband rises before the sun.

he claims it’s early morning clarity— when your mind is filled with everything and nothing. all you can do it spill your heart out. not much you can do to help it.

he loves this part of the day with you.

“i do. a lot.” he says in one lasting breath, just before shifting from being your big spoon to peek over at the baby monitor on his bedside table for the… nth time.

if she didn’t make him feel like his entire life was worth it, maybe he wouldn’t look at her so often. but she does, not even aware of it, with a leg dangling off the bed. plushies used for pillows rather than the pillows themselves.

it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to: the act of loving, and the acting of expressing it— the act of admitting just how much he does.

“she loves you too.”

★ ‎

with the soapy suds spilling over his knuckles, between his fingers and the strands of her hair, satoru notices something new.

he twirls a finger around the ends of her hair, strands strong and smooth— as he realizes they’re starting to curve around the shell of her ear on its own, when he doesn’t remember it doing that before.

and as he lowers his gaze, the soapy lather following along, he sees the longest strands of his baby’s hair are bound to meet the back of her neck. nape, ears and shoulders all meeting someone new.

satoru forgets that time goes by fast, especially when you’re filled with love to spare. “when did you start growing up so fast, sunshine?”

she shrugs.

the strength in his knees give out, landing him right back down onto the tile floor; feet tucked underneath his body. “it’s too fast.” he murmurs so lowly, you can barely catch on to what’s been said.

too fast to watch her go— but don’t say it out loud, satoru doesn’t have the heart to finish or hear the rest.

she’ll be able to say please, even without him asking her to. she’ll be able to pronounce her l’s until she loses her two front teeth. she’ll hold onto his hand, and he’ll hold onto her.

then, it’ll be time for school. and she’ll be leaving his side as a big girl now, with a lunch bag he’s packed and a slipping backpack over her shoulder— yes, inevitably, that’s going to happen too, just as he has before.

and if that’s right around the corner, then so is every other phase, inevitably— and the rest of her life from then on. it’s going to happen one day: where satoru’s baby is no longer a baby and he will have to let her go.

“‘toru.” he turns to you, towel in hand, pressing weight against the wall’s edge. “what’re you weepin’ about now, baby?”

your daughter turns to face him in a heartbeat, curious.

“crying?” voice trembling, he nudges his cheek into his sleeve in attempts to hide any evidence, big hands still in need of rinsing along with her hair. “who’s crying?”

stepping closer, you hang the towel over the hook before sitting right next to his side, “because you never cry, especially at random times.” you poke once at his ribs.

“you’re starting to get me, sweetness.” then, he dips his fingers into the water, bubbly foam parting ways from his skin. it falls down her shoulders when he rinses her off, all done with the bath, and having a little time to play.

you watch him for a while, trying to identify the cause and while trying to make small talk— you mention something without much thought, “her hair has gotten a lot longer now.”

his voice, it’s tinier than you’ve ever expected it to be, “i know…” a sniffle divides his sentence, a proper pause, “she’s growing up so fast.”

“ah… so, that’s what this is about.”

you rest your head over his shoulder, still feeling as in love as ever, “you’re cute, you know that?” he rests his in return. “we still have hundreds of days together.” you watch the way she draws on the wall, enjoying her happiness as if it were your own.

“it doesn’t feel like enough.” he says.

“i don’t think it’ll ever be enough.” no, it never will. “maybe we’re greedy like that, honey.” yes, you know this.

he knows he is. because there’s a bright sun in the blue sky with red roses to bring it all together, just like she promised.

“finished!” she looks back at you two, hands in the air in celebration of her brand new masterpiece being born.

“oh! they’re so pretty!” sweet enthusiasm in your voice, you give her all the attention in the world. “just perfect!”

you begin to ask her the little things, every detail you could think of and she could find an answer to, all while wrapping her in the warm towel you hung up earlier.

satoru’s gotten up from the floor too, taking it all in until she calls for him again, “that’s you, daddy.” she points at the blue on the wall as you carry her back to her room.

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying and he hopes this lifetime will be enough to love.

satoru hears your footsteps trickling further down the hall when your voice resounds again, “come on daddy, we need help picking out today’s pijamas!”

“pease, papa hurry!”

his heart screams though he’s no longer crying as he listens to the water flow down the drain, capturing her first piece of art on his phone, he has very little to say.

but if he had to say it and if his baby asked him to, satoru would confess: “i’m so happy. i’m so happy to love you.”

hello friends! this is a repost from my previous blog, mysugu. in the case you recognize this piece, that is (hopefully) why! thank you for reading this bit, (a second time?) he is so loved.

[hivemuthur]

Can I request childhood friends to lovers with Viktor where he takes reader to prom? I guess this is make up for the time I went to prom alone and just sat in the back uncomfortable cause I didn’t have friends and very socially anxious )):

Hi darling Anon! I went a bit overboard, but I hope you like it :x

Teenage Dirtbag

viktorxfemale!reader general audiences, Viktor asks Reader to prom and guess what, they go!

author’s note: I was hell-bent on making Viktor sound like a teenager here, when I finally decided that he was born with old speech curse. It's just my hc :v @rennethen beta read!

word count: 3,5K

—

You can hear around a fifth giggle this afternoon in the library, followed by an excited yes, and you huff under your nose, re-reading the sentence that got interrupted. Viktor throws you a glance.

“Everything alright?” he asks, whispering, and his breath fans your hand clutching the book. You wince at another distraction and mumble an annoyed yes, not looking up, but Viktor’s eyes are burning a hole in your forehead.

“Ugh, it’s noisy in here today, don’t you think?” you finally whisper back, and if your voice had a pitch, it would be high.

“Yes, well, the prom fever has begun, I believe,” Viktor muses, glancing over at yet another couple exchanging prom invitations and trying to suppress giggles and chatter. When you do only as much as grumble some incomprehensible curse, he presses further. “Are you against prom?”

“Are you not?” you whisper, louder, to the point where whispering actually stops making sense because probably everyone can hear you. “It’s a horrible patriarchal tradition meant to celebrate classic standards of beauty and popularity and alienate outsiders even further. And you have to pay for it.”

“So, am I understanding correctly that you do not intend to go?” Viktor asks, lifting his head to look at you. He studies you for a moment, then smiles—one of those smirks that suggests there will be a very clever follow-up question.

“Exactly.” You nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to physically shield yourself from what you expect to come next.

“Not even if someone has invited you?” His tone remains casual, but the way he tilts his head suggests something more calculated, and for a fleeting moment, it stings that Viktor would even hint at such a thing.

“Not even then, no.” You shake your head, trying to steady the slight waver in your voice, even though it’s still a whisper.

He hums and reaches into his bag. Before you can say anything, he’s waving two pieces of paper in front of your face, a merciless smirk tugging at his lips.

“I guess it’s very unfortunate that I have bought those tickets then?”

You blink, staring at him as your mind tries to process the words. “You what?” Your voice jumps in volume, drawing a couple of scolding glances and an exaggerated shh from a nearby table.

Viktor tilts his head, utterly unbothered. “I have acquired tickets. Two of them. One for me. One for you.”

“You—” Your mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “Viktor, why—? What—” you stutter as your brain spirals into synaptic failure.

“Will you go to the prom with me?” he asks smoothly, flashing you an honest, doe-eyed smile. “I know you enjoy complaining about things before inevitably having a good time, so I thought we could give it a try, no? As friends?”

Your jaw drops. “That is not true.” That is so not true. If you say yes, you are absolutely going to complain all the way through and make sure not to have a good time, just to prove your point. But then again, the gesture is so sweet that two conflicting parts of you battle in an unwinnable war. “Viktor, are you sure?”

“What is there to be unsure about? We’ll dress up, make fun of whoever gets illegally drunk, complain about the food, music, and decorations, and then I will walk you home and bid you good night. No casualties,” he says in one breath, as if trying to convince himself now, too. Your resistance has gone on long enough that even he is beginning to doubt the genius of his own plan.

“I… I don’t have a dress,” you say weakly, taking the ticket from his hand. Your fingers brush, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Well, you had better organise yourself then, yes? Unless you intend to die on that hill and say no?” Viktor teases, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets testing his luck so boldly.

Fortunately, you sigh and shake your head. “No, I don’t intend to die on that hill,” you huff, but your face beams despite yourself. “Fine. Let’s go to prom.”

And while Viktor might have preferred to hear I would love to go with you or one of those choked, excited yes sounds that have been echoing through your entire study session, he will take your fine as a first step toward something bigger. Maybe. He will see.

And you, uh. You are going to the prom. To the conceptually horrible party that celebrates bland, generic stereotypes and leaves no space for individuality or oddity (if that’s how you’d describe yourself). With your best friend. And the lie you told through your fucking teeth about not having a dress makes you blush with shame, but at least that’s out of the way. Now all you have to do is just… go.

When Viktor shows up on your doorstep on the night of the event, you don’t expect anything, even though something inside you gets all giddy when your mom calls you downstairs for the goddamn prom picture. You don’t expect him to react, to do anything out of the ordinary—so when he arrives with a tie that matches your dress perfectly and a complimentary corsage, you’d probably drop whatever you were holding, had your hands been occupied.

And Viktor does almost drop the corsage at the sight of you, his grip wobbling on his cane. His eyes stay locked on you as you rush clumsily down the stairs, still tucking in the last few pins into your hair, the dress flowing around you. And it’s, uh. A really good dress. He almost can’t believe that you’ve managed to find it in such a short time. It hugs you perfectly, and the colour brings out the features Viktor knew were there, but now they look just… perfect. And he notices how your face is actually close to perfect. With little bits of imperfections that make you even more pretty. But he can’t make this too weird, so he swallows down all his awe and greets you with a stupid, “Hi.”

“H-hey,” you stutter, feeling oddly scrutinized. But you do take notice of how neatly Viktor’s hair is combed, how the tie suits his eyes. And then the corsage. And then the strange lump of awkwardness in your throat when your mum urges you both to stand closer for the picture. You try to mask your blush by sticking out your tongue and making a silly face, earning an unimpressed huff from her.

The besotted awkwardness lingers all the way from your doorstep to school. Through the hallway, as you gain a few compliments from people whose names you can’t remember. When Viktor gets an odd “nicely done” from a classmate who’s blatantly eyeing you both. You exchange a glance and chuckle—awkwardly, of course.

By the time you finally sit at the table, the weirdness is too much. Mustering whatever courage is left in your overly pampered self, you lean in and say playfully, “Alright. We are at the prom. Entertain me, please.”

“Entertain you? Are you not entertained enough by the lovely décor and impeccable music?” Viktor smiles incredulously, turning in his chair to face you, grateful for the silence to be broken.

“Thoroughly. But I am hungry for more.” You shoot him a grin and lean in closer.

“Well, turn around then,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Turn around?”

“Go on.” His tone is coaxing, teasing.

So you do. You turn in your chair, facing the room, and almost spit out your drink when Viktor’s arm snakes around your neck, his palm resting on your bare shoulder, his torso pressing lightly against your back. His chin nestles into the crook of your neck as he lifts a hand, finger pointing toward two teachers in the corner of the room.

“Do you think they came drunk or that they got drunk here?” he asks, his voice low with amusement.

You barely register the question at first—too focused on the way his breath fans over your skin, warm and feather-light. Goosebumps prickle across your neck and shoulders, a shiver rolling down your spine before you can stop it.

“I—” You clear your throat, willing yourself to sound normal. “I think—uh, I think they definitely pregamed.” You tilt your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Viktor’s expression. He’s smirking. Of course he is.

“Mm. A strategic move,” he murmurs, not moving away. “Perhaps we should have considered it.”

You huff out a laugh, shifting under his arm in an attempt to ignore the way your pulse has suddenly decided to misbehave. “You do realise that if I came here drunk, I would be insufferable?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “But I find you insufferable even sober, so what difference would it make?”

You elbow him lightly in the ribs, earning a breathy chuckle. He still doesn’t move. And you don’t ask him to. His chin rests in the crook of your neck as he scans the room like a scientist observing an experiment in progress. His finger shifts, pointing toward the stage.

“The lead singer,” he murmurs, amusement curling in his voice. “Look closely.”

You squint, following his gaze. It takes a second, but then—oh. The guy isn’t singing. Not really. His mouth moves just a fraction too late, his lips barely forming the right shapes as the speakers blast out an overproduced ballad.

You gasp. “He’s—he’s lip-syncing?”

“Quite badly,” Viktor confirms, his tone as dry as ever.

You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but Viktor’s shoulders shake with barely-contained mirth. He leans in a fraction more, his breath warming your ear. “Truly an artist at work,” he muses, eyes alight with mischief.

Your gaze drifts further across the room, taking in the scattered pockets of chaos—the swaying bodies on the dance floor, the clumps of students deep in scandalous conversation, and—

“The punch,” Viktor notes, and you follow his gesture toward a table where two students are very obviously spiking the communal bowl.

You snort. “Bold of them to think no one would notice.”

“Mm.” Viktor hums, tilting his head. “Seems like you can still change your mind about intoxication.”

You scoff, twisting just enough to give him a sceptical look. “Is there a particular reason you would like me to get drunk?” you challenge. “Am I truly this insufferable sober?”

Viktor exhales a sharp laugh, but then—he shifts just slightly closer, his voice dropping low as he leans in, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You asked me to entertain you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his accent thick and deliberate. “I am merely presenting you with the options.”

Heat flares in your cheeks so fast you’re convinced the entire room must see it. Your throat goes dry. Viktor is smug, you can feel it in the way his breath lingers, in the amused tilt of his head when he finally pulls back. And oh, you are not going to let him get away with that.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” you declare, lifting your chin in challenge.

Viktor barely hesitates. “Say no more.”

And that’s how you find yourself cradling a giant plastic cup of aggressively spiked punch, the harsh sting of cheap alcohol unmistakable beneath the artificial fruit flavour. Viktor, beside you, takes a sip and immediately winces.

“Whoever did this,” he coughs, shaking his head, “should be arrested.”

You laugh, swallowing past the burn. “And yet, here we are.”

“Deeply regretting our choices?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

But the regret fades fast as the night unfolds. You both keep up a steady stream of quiet, conspiratorial chatter, pointing out ridiculous dance moves, stolen kisses, and teachers who look like they’d rather be anywhere else. There’s warmth in it, a shared amusement that makes the room blur into the background.

And then—

A familiar melody hums through the speakers, soft and slow, cutting through the pop songs that came before. Without thinking, you blurt, “Dance with me.”

Viktor turns, eyebrows raised. “I don’t really dance,” he says, tapping his cane lightly against the floor.

Realisation sinks in, and your stomach twists. “Oh—I didn’t mean—”

But he’s already shaking his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Swaying,” he amends gently. “Swaying is a better word for what I’m capable of.”

You exhale, smiling. “I prefer swaying to dancing, anyway.”

So you stay close to your table, moving just enough to count as dancing but not enough to make a spectacle of yourselves. Your arms loop around Viktor’s shoulders, fingers brushing the hairline at the nape of his neck, while his hands find their place at the small of your back, fingers linking together.

At first, the awkwardness lingers. You make some quip about looking like a terrible prom cliché, and Viktor fires back that, statistically, you are. But then—his expression shifts, something softer taking over, something you’ve seen on his face before but never thought much of it.

And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leans in, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You freeze for half a second, caught between surprise and outright joy. The scent of him lingers close, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and when you absently tangle your fingers into his hair, Viktor trembles. A full-body reaction barely contained, followed by a quiet, unsteady huff against your shoulder.

Your heart thuds.

His grip tightens, one hand shifting higher, fingers pressing firmly into the space between your shoulder blades as he pulls you closer. For a long moment, neither of you speak. You simply sway, pressed together, moving with the rhythm of the song.

And then, as the last few notes echo out and the moment threatens to end, Viktor shifts. His lips brush the shell of your ear, voice low, careful, asking—

“Would you like to go somewhere quieter?”

“I… I thought you’d never ask,” you murmur, voice weaker than you’d like. You swallow hard as Viktor takes your hand without a word, his grip warm and steady. With an effortless sweep, he hooks his cane off the chair, and then you’re moving—out of the too-bright, too-loud gym, into the cool air of the school corridors.

He leads with quiet confidence, and you follow, heartbeat pressing insistently against your ribs. The path is familiar even in the dim light, and it doesn’t take long before you recognise where he’s heading.

“The library?” you whisper as he guides you toward the building. “When you said quieter, I didn’t think you meant completely silent.”

Viktor smirks, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “Would you prefer the janitor’s closet? It is considerably less spacious.”

You scoff. “Not what I meant. Also—isn’t the library locked?”

His smirk deepens. “I know a door that’s never closed.”

And true enough, he leads you around the side, where an unassuming back door sits in shadow. With a practiced motion, he presses the handle, and it gives way with the softest click.

“You’ve done this before,” you accuse in a whisper.

He tilts his head in faux thoughtfulness. “I could neither confirm nor deny.”

Suppressing a grin, you slip inside after him, the familiar scent of books and dust immediately wrapping around you. The hush of the library feels different at night—more intimate, more secret.

You wander between the shelves, fingers trailing along the spines, exchanging glances through the gaps in the books. The flickering light from the streetlamps outside casts shadows between the rows, stretching and shifting as you move.

“So,” Viktor’s voice breaks the quiet, “how is your prom experience so far?”

You hesitate, considering. Then, with a small smile, you answer honestly, “Unexpected.”

Viktor hums, appearing between the books for just a second before disappearing again into another row. “Is that a good thing?”

You step forward, peering through the shelves, catching the flicker of his gaze as he does the same. “Yeah,” you say softly. “It’s nice.”

You keep this quiet game going, stealing glimpses of each other through gaps in the books, smiles tugging at your lips. The anticipation coils in your chest as you round the final shelf, and—

You meet at the end.

Viktor is already there, standing just a step away, watching you. His head tilts slightly, amusement flickering in his expression as he takes a measured step forward.

“And,” he murmurs, voice lower now, smooth and teasing. “Are you entertained?”

Your lips part, a heartbeat passing before you manage to answer. “Immensely.”

Viktor steps closer, the space between you shrinking with every slow, careful movement. His hand finds your waist, warm and sure, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your dress.

“And if I did this,” he murmurs, voice edged with amusement, “would you be more or less entertained?”

Your breath hitches at the closeness, heat blooming in your cheeks. But you refuse to falter, tilting your chin up just slightly. “More is… more likely.”

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. Then, with an unhurried grace, he lifts a hand and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers ghosting over your skin.

Your heart stumbles.

“And if, say, I did something like this?” he whispers, his mouth hovering achingly close to yours.

The warmth of him is dizzying, his breath fanning against your lips. Your mind struggles to keep up, to form words, to hold onto logic, but all you manage is a weak, “I think you have to be a little bit more specif—”

You don’t get to finish.

Because Viktor kisses you.

At first, it’s tentative—a soft press of lips, uncertain but intent, as if testing the waters of something fragile and new. His hand tightens at your waist, pulling you the barest bit closer, and you can’t help the soft, surprised sound that escapes you.

And then the hesitation melts.

The kiss deepens, slow but heady, and before you know it, your fingers are threading into his perfectly combed hair, tugging him closer. You feel him inhale sharply against your mouth, and then—

A low, barely-there noise escapes him as your fingers twist further, utterly ruining the neatness he’d so carefully maintained. His hand slides up your back, pressing against bare skin, and when you curl your fingers at the nape of his neck, Viktor shudders—actually shudders again—and lets out a soft, breathy huff against your lips.

Visibly flustered, Viktor pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, though the space between you remains minuscule. His breath is uneven, his carefully composed exterior slightly shaken, and the way his lips part—like he’s still chasing the remnants of the kiss—does nothing to help your own spiraling thoughts.

His fingers linger at your waist as if reluctant to let go, and then, in a quiet, almost sheepish voice, he asks, “So, um… Do you think I could keep entertaining you in a prom-unrelated environment in the near future?”

You blink, your mind catching up to his words, still dazed from the kiss, and then—

“Are you asking me out?”

The sheer wonder and hope in your voice nearly makes Viktor laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching. He exhales, shaking his head as if he can’t believe you can’t believe it.

“I—” He swallows, gaze flickering over your face, then exhales a soft chuckle. “Yes. Yes, I am asking you out.”

 “Yes, I would love for you to keep entertaining me then,” you say warmly.

A smile breaks across Viktor’s face, slow and triumphant, because in one fell swoop, he’s won both of what he wanted—an enthusiastic yes and a very eager I would love to.

And that’s all the permission he needs.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t second-guess it. He just leans in and kisses you again, his hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him. This time, there’s no hesitation, no lingering question marks hanging between you—just warmth, want, and the giddy realisation that this is happening.

Your fingers tangle into his already-mussed hair, and Viktor makes a noise against your mouth that you swear you feel more than hear, something between a sigh and a laugh. His arms tighten around you as he deepens the kiss, as if anchoring himself to this moment, to you.

Somewhere between kisses, between the rustle of clothes and the muffled sound of your shared, breathless laughter, a book teeters off the shelf and lands with a soft thud on the floor beside you. You barely notice. Prom may have been the reason you ended up here, but right now, the only thing that matters is Viktor, his lips on yours, the feeling of his fingers pressing into the small of your back, and the quiet, thrilling promise of whatever comes next.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Every Light

Summary: The reader is driving along a long stretch of highway when a mysterious stranger on a motorcycle shows up and decides to have some fun with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This fic takes place post 15x20 (with some canon fixes adjustments). Also, we all know (including Jensen) Every Light is 100% Dean coded, right?

____________

Your fingers tapped against the wheel with one hand, your other hand hung out the window of your car, dancing in the wind. Music blasted through the speakers of your SUV, Ramblin’ Man pouring out as you drove down the long stretch of quiet highway on the bright summer day. The barren Texas flatlands stretched for miles before you, not a single car in sight.

You let your foot go heavy on the pedal, racing across the plains, the warm wind nice across your cheeks. Driving all day from Phoenix to Austin wasn’t exactly fun, but you were in a good mood. A great mood. One of those rare moments of peace and serenity where you just felt still and whole.

You happy little bubble popped when you drove past a crossroads, a slick black motorcycle turning onto the highway behind you. Fuck. It was probably a cop. You’d been making good time too.

You sighed as it came up on you fast, tension rising in your bones as you waited for a siren, lights, something. 

The motorcycle pulled up on your side, crossing the dotted yellow line and keeping pace with you. You turned your head, getting a better view of the bike. Okay, definitely not a police officer. Not unless Texas shelled out for jet black racing bikes with no markings. The rider was in head to toe sleek black leather, tight against his body with padding built in you were sure of. You couldn’t see past his black as night tinted visor. He, and it was most definitely a he based on those shoulders, turned his head toward you before raising his hand, giving you a wave.

You raised your eyebrows behind your aviators. The rider gripped the handlebars again, starting to weave his bike left and right ever so slightly before he straightened again. You tilted your head when he lifted his right hand and signed a simple gesture. 

“Hi.”

Okay…what were the odds some crazed person knew sign language? Probably lower than average and if worst came to worst, you’d just gun it until you hit a town.

You waved back to him, the man sitting up more and returning it. Then he was leaning back even more, popping a wheelie. Your heart skipped as he tore down the highway besides you, only setting the bike down when you flailed your arm for him to get it down on the ground. He finally did so, pointing at himself and looking around when you frowned at him.

“Behave down there!” You shouted out the window, even though he’d never hear it. He simply kept driving next to you, playing as he did so, doing something even more reckless each time he got you to laugh or smile.

But eventually you were coming up on a town and the roads were about to get busier. He made a quick gesture with his hand before taking off ahead of you, getting in front of you in your lane and disappearing down the road.

“Boys,” you mumbled, trying not to think of the last thing he’d signed.

“I had fun, sweetheart. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Six Hours Later

You’d wearily made it to Austin and after a quick shower at your hotel, you headed out to grab dinner at a local bar. 

“Hi,” said a handsome man when he took a seat next to you at the crowded bar top. 

“Hi,” you said politely, returning your gaze to scanning the menu. The stranger's eyes lingered though, your head turning slightly to find a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

“No, just funny running into you again today.” You raised an eyebrow, the man chuckling. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Darn it,” he said, feigning a sigh. “Here I thought I made an impression. Did I not do enough wheelies?” Then he signed, “Sweetheart,” with his hand, flashing you a wink.

Your eyes went wide, the man smirking. “You! That was completely reckless.”

“So was going a hundred down the highway, rebel,” he teased. He turned his body to face you, smiling hard. “You’re telling me I wasn’t the best part of your day?”

“You’re a menace,” you said, picking up your drink.

“And that wasn’t a denial.” He waved down the bartender, pointing at your drink and holding up two fingers. “So. You like me better as the silent mysterious type with a helmet over my face?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the new drink. “It takes more than a pretty face to win me over, babe.”

“How about a ride on it?” You blinked. 

“A ride on your…” you swallowed, the man chuckling.

“My bike. Although you are more than welcome to ride anything of mine you like,” he said. You scoffed, ignoring the fact you hadn’t been with anyone in far, far too long and here was a man handsome as sin offering himself up to you. “Alright. I pushed too far. My apologies.”

“…Why do you know sign language?” you asked.

“My sister in law is deaf. I actually just became an uncle,” he said with a proud smile. “I had to finish up some work before heading back home for good. I’m going be a firefighter actually.”

He looked so…boyish for a moment that you smiled at his genuine pride.

“Good for you,” you said. “I’m just passing through myself. My old friend just had a baby up north.”

“So what’s to stop you from cutting loose tonight? I’ll even pay for dinner like a proper gentleman.” You glanced away, the man tilting his head when your eyes darted back. “I promise to be as well or badly behaved as you want.”

You looked him up and down, the man still sporting those boots and padded pants. 

Oh fuck it. 

“I ain’t getting on the back of that bike without a helmet.” His grin turned devilish, even when you held up a finger. “Calm down, big boy. Let’s see how you last through dinner.”

“You holding on tight?” asked Dean nearly two hours later when you were on the outskirts of the city. Only Dean. Tonight was a one time thing and that meant no last names, no histories, just plain old fun.

“Yeah, why?” you asked when he chuckled beneath you.

“Cause I’m gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He revved the engine and took off like a bat out of hell, going faster and faster, so fast your heart was in your throat. “Here we go!”

“What are you-“ You screeched when he popped a wheelie with you on the back, setting it down after only a few seconds. “Dean!”

“More you say?” Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” mumbled Dean, a kiss pressed against your temple. You groggily opened your eyes, the clock flashing that it was ten. You felt him pull the sheets up over your bare back, Dean running a hand over your head. “Wake up beautiful. You need a shower before you check out.”

“Yeah,” you yawned, sitting up in bed, watching him dress. He smirked as you openly eyed his body, Dean cupping your cheeks in his hands when he finished. “One night, right?”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N. You’ll find him someday. Until then though, just know you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“You say that to all the girls,” you laughed, Dean smiling.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, kissing you once more. “Careful driving today.”

“You too. And don’t flirt with girls like that anymore. You’ll kill yourself on that bike.”

“Only flirt with you, got it,” he said. You playfully punched his arm, Dean letting your hands linger one last moment before pulling away. “In a another life, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Dean.”

You hadn’t planned on getting such a late start to the day but your night with Dean had been worth it. In a way, you wished you’d forced the issue and gotten his number at the very least. Sure, the motorcycle ride and sex were great but he was good company, funny and silly but something grounded to him that let you know you were safe with him. Eileen was always on you about living a life more outside of hunting and now that you’d officially retired, you were about to start living it more.

Including telling her all about your wonderful hookup.

You pulled up outside a house in Lawrence in the suburbs just after seven, barely up the front steps before the front door opened and Eileen hopped out, pulling you into a big hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, giving her a big squeeze, holding on tight. While you’d talked, you hadn’t been able to see her in person since she came back from the dead and this reunion was long overdue. “Come on, let me see the baby.”

“He just went down for bedtime. But he will happily see you in the morning,” she said, taking your hand and dragging you inside. “We just got the grill going out back.”

“Good. I’m starving and miss your burgers,” you said, letting her have another round of hugs with you. “Well if I can’t see the babe yet, you gotta let me meet your husband.”

“You know he has a brother that’s single,” she grinned, taking you through the house and to the back deck where a very tall man worked over a grill. “Sam! Y/N’s finally here!”

“Well it’s about time,” he said, picking you up in a hug. He smiled gently as he set you down. “I’m so happy Eileen has a friend in town.”

“Maybe you guys can give me advice on how the whole retirement thing works. I’ve just been traveling around aimlessly the past few months,” you said, taking a beer when Eileen offered it.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Sam, the rumble of an engine on the street out front echoing through the yard. 

“That’ll be his very single brother,” said Eileen. You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, he hunted too! You guys would so get along now that you’re both retired.”

“I’ve dated other hunters and it never worked out, thank you very much,” you said.

“You’re lucky I managed to grab the last bag of franks,” said an all too familiar voice. You spun around, Dean, your Dean from last night, standing right in front of you wearing jeans and a white plain t-shirt. He dropped the package of hot dogs, both of you staring at the other. 

“I told you he was good looking!” joked Eileen.

“You?” asked Dean.

“You’re Dean fucking Winchester?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Eileen’s bestie?” You both nodded, Sam picking up the package and looking at you both like you were nuts.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” asked Sam.

“Some would say intimately,” said Dean. 

“We’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing his bicep, ignoring the strength in it as you dragged him down the steps and around the corner of the house. You stared at him, Dean running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were a fireman!”

“I’m about to start my training. I was in Phoenix, cleaning up one last job but…someone had already fixed the sigils,” he mumbled. “You?”

“Yes, me,” you said, closing your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “I worked out of Washington mostly. Eileen asked if I would clean up a sigil on my way down here. I-I’m staying here for a bit to help with the baby while I find a place in town.”

“So you’re that friend of hers…” he trailed off, eyes darting around your face. His lips parted but no words escaped them. An unpleasant crack tore through your heart. Gone was the happy go lucky flirt from twelve hours ago. Instead a man filled with horrors beyond imagination stood before you, a desperation in his eyes that made your skin crawl. 

“You were wrong back at the hotel.” He shook off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, confusion entering the forefront of his mind. “This morning you said I deserved better than you.”

“You do,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m-”

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about you. We all have,” you said softly, taking one of his hands in yours. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “You deserve the world and I’m not just saying that because of last night. You more than did your part.”

“I’m not the guy from last night. I am severely fucked up-”

“Oh get in line, Winchester.” He blinked rapidly, brows furrowing. “You think you’re the only one with daddy issues and who’s died and seen the shit hunters do? No, you’re not. There’s plenty of us who have. I retired because of you. I retried because Eileen told me her friends the Winchesters saved us all and I could quit. I should quit. She told me to live my life. So you and me? We’re going to live our lives as fucked up as we are. And last night…fuck, I had fun. You had fun. I forgot about the nightmares and I think you did too. You think Eileen and your brother aren’t as screwed up as us? Of course they are but they aren’t scared to do the hard thing and move on. So why not us too? It doesn’t have to be together but-”

“Shut up,” he said, slamming his lips to yours. It was hard, rough. Something possessive underneath the surface that had you sucking in air when he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip along the way. 

“Kissing me won’t make me shut up, Winchester,” you breathed, Dean ghosting over your lips, cradling a hand against the back of your neck to keep you close. “We aren’t strangers anymore. You want more, you got to give me more.”

“You want a visitors pass to the insane asylum in my head?” he laughed dryly.

“Visitor pass? Honey, I live there, just a different ward is all.” He flashed his eyes open, green orbs hesitant. “I ain’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m screwed up too and you’re going to have to give as good as you get. I need that. You need that. So either walk away if you just want to be friends-”

“Odds are this crashes and burns,” he said. Your hands slid to his cheeks, smirking up at him. “What?”

“Good thing I got my own firefighter then.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling when you tilted your chin up. “Stealing my moves?”

“Just remembered you were warned, sweetheart.”

“We’re going to work on that self-talk.” You tiled your chin further, Dean meeting your mouth, a smile in it. For the first time in a long time, in years, you let yourself think about a future and what that looked like. Dean pulled away slowly when Sam called for you both, his thumb brushing your chin.

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it with some help,” he murmured, trailing his knuckles down your arm, stopping at your hand to lace your fingers together.

Yeah, the future was looking a little brighter these days.

_________________

[kayleigh-83]

Was in a build mode mood today, and quite happy with how this house turned out that I made for the lot bin!

I was feeling inspired and confident to tackle the CFE cheat a little after watching @sissysims wonderful new video of building tips. Finally, not scared of attached garages! I always say I'm more of a decorator than a builder, but I want to get a little more bold with CFE and lot adjuster to get the results I want.

I did also use one of @catherinetcjd's excellent 2-click foundation lots, as a nice shortcut. It created the unexpected slope on the driveway you can kind of see, but I like that accidental detail a lot! (I did fix the driveway clipping through the sidewalk later too). At some point I may give this lot a CC free makeover so I have a version to share, but I was burnt out by the time I got to the end of the build, so not today!

One day this will also probably end up a speed build on my channel - I frequently build empty lots for my bin and film it, then film the part two of decorating often months or years down the road when someone finally moves into it!

[marcelloandtyler]

Allegra smiled as Levi joined her on the other side. She closed the door, knowing Nico would sleep through just about anything and would probably continue sleeping with nothing else to wake him.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I don't mind. Do you want some coffee?" she asked, heading to the kitchen to put the coffee on before joining him again.

____

They finished breakfast and Marcello took their plates against their protest, putting them in the dishwasher. He also scrubbed the pans he used before putting them in the dishwasher to run it, wanting to do whatever he could to pay them back for their hospitality.

"I should probably get going," Marcello said, not even wanting to check the time. He was feeling as sober as he was going to get, though he was very tired and groggy. He knew he'd feel better the next day, and right now he just needed to focus on getting home. He just felt bad heading out on them, but he wanted to get home. He was just glad he'd been able to text Levi before his phone died, but he was eager to talk to him about everything that he'd thought about on his hike.

"Are you sure?" Lucy asked. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. We are just hanging around here today, editing and filming some, smoking."

Marcello smiled. "As tempting as that is, I should get back to my boyfriend. Are you sure I can't give you any money?"

They waved him off. "No," Megan said. "The food was more than enough payment. We've had fun. And you better keep in touch."

He promised them that he would as he grabbed his things and got his jacket on. They said goodbye, hugging one another. Marcello got into his car and sat there for a moment. He had a coffee but he knew he'd need to stop and get an espresso or something. Marcello took out his phone and plugged it in quick. He started driving before he could turn it on, following the signs to the highway, stopping at a Starbucks before he was on his way.

Levi waved back at Allegra, feeling bad that he must have woken her up. He'd tried to hold his pee as long as possible, not wanting to disturb the others, but it seemed it couldn't be helped. He too in a breath and then shifted, getting up when she asked if he wanted to go to her side.

"Sure," he muttered, trying to be quiet. He walked with her to her side of the house, hoping that Nico would be alright if he woke up without them there. He figured he was a pretty chill person by nature and it should be fine.

He took his phone with him as he made his way over to the other side with Allegra. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

[bybobbysbeard]

Sharp Edges

Day 7 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: love notes/letters. read on ao3 read other days here

Tommy’s phone buzzes repeatedly. He’s been sitting in his truck for the last 32 minutes. He knows it's been that long, because he checked the time when he parked in the driveway. He should go inside. His neighbors are going to worry.

EB: Lucy texted EB: I won’t ask if ur ok. R u home?

If he doesn’t answer, Evan will probably call. That’s the last thing he wants. Tommy might be an absolute wasteland of a human being, but he’s physically incapable of ignoring a call from Evan. 

TK: I’m home. EB: K EB: Bobby took us offline for 1 hr. Call if u want

God, he can’t even think about seeing Evan right now. Evan is good and kind, and would talk him through the guilt he’s feeling. Evan would understand, because he does the job too. It wouldn’t be like before, with an ex that didn’t get it, or friends that couldn't relate. Rationally, he knows that, but he still can’t make himself pick up the phone. 

Tommy is a champion at licking his wounds in private, and today was a hell of a wound. Some dumbass weekend warrior, completely unprepared for Mt. Baldy. Ignorant or arrogant, he dragged his two kids down with him. The youngest was technically still alive when they finally found them, but only by the definition of the word. Melton did what he could in the back of the chopper, but Tommy would bet the little girl won’t make it through the night. The four hours they spent on the search could have made all the difference. 

If only he had looked a little closer. They were in the first fucking quadrant. 

It wasn’t until they were running on empty and crossing back over the start of their search grid, that Tommy spotted the bright blue windbreaker, down at the bottom of a ravine. Again, rationally, he knows the crevice was nearly invisible coming from the other direction, and Melton was the one with the binoculars. But Tommy was in charge, Tommy was flying, and Tommy was the one that finally spotted them. He can’t help but feel responsible. 

He can’t help but feel like he failed. 

He forces himself to unbuckle his seatbelt and head inside. On autopilot, he drops his duffle in the foyer, kicks off his boots, and heads for the master bedroom. He’ll have a shower, do some laundry, and complete his meal prep for next week. He’ll ignore the voices in his head that sound like his father, like his COs, like Gerrard. When he doesn’t feel like all his sharp edges are one crack away from shattering, he’ll message Evan again. Share a little more. They’re trying to be honest with each other, but Evan’s at work. He doesn’t need Tommy’s self-pity to distract him from a potential emergency.

The ensuite is dim, lit only by a small skylight. He leaves the overhead lights off. Tommy knows what he’ll see when he looks in the mirror. 

He cranks the shower as hot as it’ll go, and peels off the rest of his clothes while it warms up. They get thrown towards the hamper in the bedroom and his phone and wallet land on the foot of the bed. Steam is billowing out of the shower stall when he gets back into the bathroom and shuts the door. Stepping under the spray makes him gasp, inhaling heavy, humid air. The water is scalding, and he can feel blood rushing to the surface of his skin. Calloused fingers scratch through his curls and catch on a few tangles. He showered perfunctorily at Harbor, but he still feels grit under his nails. He ran out of his usual soap this morning, so Evan’s fancy oatmeal-coconut bodywash will have to do. He scrubs and scrubs, until he’ll flushed all over, futilely trying to wash the day away.

When he steps out of the shower, the bathroom is filled with steam. Something by the sink snags his attention when he goes to grab a towel. His reflection in the mirror is distorted, blurred by the foggy glass, and murky in the dim lighting, but there's something there, some pattern on the surface that catches his eye. He hits the light switch.

There are words. Written on the mirror. Sections that stayed clear through the steam from his shower. 

You’re everything to me.

And below that:

I love you.

He stands there for a minute, trying to comprehend what he’s looking at. Evan stayed at his house the night before last, and he locked up after Tommy had to leave for work yesterday morning. He must have showered before his shift, and while the bathroom was still warm, wrote a love note on the glass. 

Tommy looks at the letters, written with a blunt fingertip, proof of Evan’s feelings for him. An ephemeral, temporary proof, but proof nonetheless. He stares, knowing his own reflection is there too, but it's buried behind Evan’s writing. After today, he expected to look in the mirror and see a failure. Instead, all he sees is love.

Heat builds behind his eyes, and he feels that telltale itch in his throat. He inhales, trying to hold onto control. The bathroom smells like coconut, like Evan. 

All of a sudden, being alone in the house is nearly intolerable. He wants Evan. The sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on Tommy’s body. Today sucked. And he feels like shit. And it wasn’t completely his fault, but that doesn’t stop him from drowning in guilt. For the first time since he was a child, he wants someone to comfort him. 

Dropping the towel on the floor, he strides out to the bedroom. He pulls on the first pair of sweatpants he sees, and grabs his phone. Tommy sits on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls up his boyfriend’s contact. The bed frame digs into his spine. He hits the dial icon before he can talk himself out of it. Rapidly cooling water drips down his neck from his wet hair. It rings three times before it connects.

“Tommy! Are you- how are you feeling?” Evan’s voice is a balm. There’s some background noise, Eddie and Howie talking over each other.

“I… can you talk? Are you guys still offline?”

“Yeah, we’re still good for like 20 minutes. I can talk. Hold on, lemme go up to the roof.” There's a few huffed breaths and the sounds of a heavy door banging open. “Can I see you?”

“...Okay.” He turns the camera on and his boyfriend’s face fills the screen. Evan smiles at him. There’s no pity in his gaze, no blame, only love. Tommy knew he would understand, but it's still a relief. “I got your note. In the mirror. I love you too.”

“I’m glad it worked, I didn’t exactly test it.” He laughs softly. “I-I’m really happy you called. What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about your shift?”

Evan launches into an explanation about a call involving a missing hamster and the brilliant plan to let a neighbor’s cat into the house to catch it, but of course someone thought the cat might eat the hamster, so a different neighbor’s dog was found to chase the cat out, and on and on the story goes. It sounds like a nursery rhyme, but Tommy knows it's an average Thursday for the 118. He leans back, resting the hand holding the phone on a bent knee, and presses his shoulders into the edge of the mattress. 

Evan’s voice washes over Tommy, soothing and smoothing his sharp edges down into blunt borders, fitting the pieces of him back together.

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Senior!Caleb x fem!reader

Tags: College AU, reader doesn't have to be MC, fluff. From this request

Going on a camping trip with your friends has always been something you’ve saved in the back of your mind and now with your generous college professor organizing this trip you’ve mentally checked it off your mental bucket list.

However, laughing and sharing snacks with your friends near the back of the bus now feels unreal. Especially with a certain senior of yours, just a few seats behind yours, who you keep stealing glances at.

“Whatcha starin’ at?” your friend asked, turning around and seeing the lilac-eyed senior as she turned back with a grin, “Checking out Caleb? I mean who would’ve known Mr. A+ would take the same free elective as us. Totally get you, he’s an absolute feast for the eyes.” 

“Shut up! I wasn't looking!” you hissed, cheeks burning as you glanced around, hoping no one else on the bus had heard her. Desperate to change the subject, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a deep voice cuts in instead.

Looking up at the source of the voice, you see a strikingly handsome male student, casually dressed, gripping the seat tightly as he balances himself on the moving bus.

“I was wondering if-” 

“Hey! It’s dangerous standing here, let’s go back.” Caleb's voice cuts through, commanding and confident. He had appeared so suddenly that it made you flinch and garnered attention from the professor.

“Sit back down, boys. It’s dangerous.” the professor called out as Caleb gave a quick nod. With a firm grip on the student’s shoulder, he pulled him back with a force that left no room for argument. 

“Sorry to bother you, girls.” Caleb added, flashing a smile that made your heart skip a beat as he dragged the student back to his seat.

Stunned, you turned to your friends, who were equally speechless, as you all began talking at once—some giggling, others blushing furiously.

As you and your friends struggled to put your tent together for the nth time that evening a very helpful senior just happened to be in the area (even though this was the designated girl’s tent area) and offered help. In just less than 10 minutes the giant tent was set up flawlessly and your friends rushed in to check what it looked like from the inside.

Turning around to thank Caleb you discovered that he had just vanished into thin air. As you spun on your heels, you finally spotted his tall figure walking away in the distance. Strange. Throughout all of today you must've seen him like a dozen times—of course that’s to be said, you WERE on a trip together, but something was just off with whenever he showed up. 

When you were out of breath from hiking up the mountain, one of your classmates had offered his bottle of water after you had drunk all of yours. You weren't going to accept it, since he had already drank half of it, but Caleb magically appeared and handed you an unopened bottle of water before grabbing the poor guy’s wrist and disappeared into the group.

Or when the same guy on the bus had found a stick and was just about to give it to you. Caleb had also turned up from thin air and given you a studier hiking stick, before pulling the guy away behind some thick trees, leaving you to your friends' relentless teasing.

Or how about when-

“Hey! Helloo? I called your name like 20 times.” You’re met face to face with your friend as you instinctively yank your head back before taking a deep breath and shaking it off. You turn slightly on the sleeping bag, glancing up at the tent as you readjust your pillow.

“Sorry, Sorry. What were you saying?” You apologize as your friend shakes her head and sighs at you. Suddenly you heard a faint rustling noise outside. Flicking your head left and right you start to feel a little paranoid, “Bears?”

“There’s no bears here. Probably a bunny or even the wind. Calm down, the professor assured us that it’s safe.” Your friend’s reassurance calms the rapid thumping of your heart as she starts to rant about assignments and soon you both find yourselves drifting off to sleep. 

Caleb was glad that your friend was an idiot. Well, not an idiot, but not nosy. His lips tugged into a smile as he heard your even soft breathing, the thin nylon being the only wall between you two. Caleb had always had trouble falling asleep, so when he heard shuffling and hushed snickers he almost immediately got up and out of his tent. And he was glad he did.

The three boys that had tried to sneak into your tent were now all battered up, lying on the grass. What a bunch of perverts. There was just no end to these creeps; from the nobody on the bus, the loser who tried to give you water that he had already drank from, the clown who tried to give you such a thin flimsy stick as a hiking stick, to these peeping toms.

“I’m sure you guys aren’t that dumb, so you should know what this means.” He squatted down, grabbing the beaten up boy’s chin, forcing him to look at Caleb's piercing lilac eyes. He nodded frantically, his body shaking as he could only see out of one eye, the other swollen and bruised.

Caleb stood back up, a sigh leaving his lips as he watched the boys chaotically dragged each other away as far as possible, tripping over each other in the process. You were so innocent, pure and kind. Caleb wouldn’t allow for anyone to taint that innocence or to even come near you, especially not low-lives like them. He would take care of you, even if he had to from a distance. Hopefully one day you’ll see how much he loves you.

A/N: Honestly this took be a lot longer than expected. I hope you guys like it!! Please give me more asks/submissions because my mind is blank and the combination of work and assignments are killing me. As always, stay delusional! (*´∀`*)