#This is longer than I intended it to be

[ailithnight]

Jason has a Guardian Angel. Angel? No, something else. A giant, warrior woman with 4 arms; dressed like she belongs in depictions of Olympus and it's gods. Wonder Woman has always reminded Jason of his Guardian.

She is not there always, coming and going as he needs. But she is in some of his earliest memories. Most often she comes to him in dreams, to offer knowledge and guidance he doesn't have in the waking world. But sometimes, we he really needs her, he sees her in the real world too. Albeit, at those times she is like a mirage, wavering and somewhat unreal.

Only once did she ever seem solid in the real world. When she pulled him, bleeding and broken, from the rubble of that warehouse. Whispering words of comfort as she tucked him safely into her arms and carried him home.

Ever since he was revived, he dreams of her more frequently. It was her who best taught him to reign in the pits. And whenever he is drowning in the deepest dredges of Rage, she comes to him, her presence soothing the boiling burn.

She tells him, "Be patient. Be strong. Do your best for now, ***** and Time has assured me you will some day be free of the Rage of Saint Lazurus."

*****

The name she has for him is weird. He hears it, but has never understood it. The word simply sliding out of his mind like water through a crack.

But not this time.

As she stands in front of him, more solid then he's ever seen in the real world. With a white haired teen floating at her side, holding the rabid blob of Lazurus goop said teen just pulled out of Jason's chest. The League at Jason's back, Diana kneeling for some reason. Jason's Gaurdian smiles at him.

"It is good to see you in person again, Elpis."

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

A question of loyalty: an analysis of two perspectives in season 1

The past few years, I have loved rewatching season 1 with the context of the finale, because it has been so interesting to really see things from Crosshair's perspective.

Our first hint that maybe Crosshair's motives aren't what we first thought:

Hunter's (and our) perspectives on the issue are further challenged:

And then we reach the ultimate accusation:

So, let's take a look at both sides.

POINT #1: "Crosshair was the one who kept attacking the squad! How could he POSSIBLY accuse the squad of betraying him??"

COUNTERPOINT: Because from his perspective, they had. We as the audience know the whole plan was for the squad to get Crosshair back after they escaped the brig on Kamino - in fact, Hunter was prepping to go back for Crosshair at the same time Crosshair was coming for them - but Crosshair doesn't know that. He had been arguing with his squad ever since Order 66, trying to get them to understand how important it was for them to follow orders, and they had yet another disagreement right before he was singled out. His inhibitor chip gets intensified, he gets sent after his brothers (as if Tarkin needed to do anything else to thoroughly disgust me...), and he finds them in the hangar prepping the Marauder to leave. (Just to reiterate: from Crosshair's perspective, he had recently been arguing with his brothers, and now he finds them readying to leave.) Hunter never tells him that they were coming back for him; instead, they engage in some back-and-forth about surrendering and following orders before the shooting begins.

Having left him on that note, it would be all too easy for Crosshair to work himself up over the perceived abandonment - especially if he started feeling any sort of regret over his actions toward his squad (finding a way to blame the other party is, after all, a common defense mechanism).

And every time they cross paths thereafter, instead of his brothers apologizing or listening or trying to come with him, they keep running away from him after arguing with him about how he's being controlled and forced to obey orders. I can't help but imagine that any mention of "programming" only served to stoke Crosshair's ornery side: he and his squad are "superior," after all; he can't be controlled, he is being a good soldier and following orders because HE chose to, not because of some stupid chip. (Cue Crosshair claiming it "doesn't matter" when he got his chip removed: his ideology remains the same, thank you very much.)

And so, from Crosshair's standpoint: his brothers abandoned him, they won't even talk to him except to try to convince him he's wrong about everything, and they're ruining any chance they have of finding "purpose" by remaining soldiers and serving the Empire.

POINT #2: "Hunter and the others didn't try hard enough to get Crosshair back - actually, they didn't try at all."

COUNTERPOINT: I think we overestimate just how much time passed between the Batch escaping Kamino and the events on Bracca (unless the squad was just hanging around in open space for weeks at a time, which I doubt). Consider how quickly events occur in the first eight episodes:

The squad narrowly escapes Kamino

They try to lay low at Cut and Suu's, but that lasts maybe two days before they are on the run again

The Marauder crashes

It's necessary to find a way to scramble the ship's signature, so they have to make a quick landing on Pantora

Enter Fennec

Well, now they have to find out why a bounty hunter is after Omega

Enter Cid

Cid pretty much immediately starts blackmailing them

They have to do another job for Cid - we don't know exactly how much time passed, but Cid doesn't seem to be one to wait to order the Bad Batch around, especially as this next job reasserts her claim on them.

Rex reappears - we don't know exactly how much time passed here, either, but I would guess Rex sought them out as soon as he was tipped off about them.

(Lest anyone think Tech must have just given up on the chip scanner after the Marauder crashed, remember that he needed comparative data in order to properly use the scanner. I can only imagine how much it must have eaten at Tech to not have any way of finding a source with the necessary data to complete the scanner - especially considering everything else going on - until Rex miraculously showed up.)

So, until reuniting on Bracca, there is precious little time or opportunity for the squad to formulate a plan to get Crosshair back... And then Bracca happens. Here, they are confronted by Crosshair, who responds to genuine pleas to reconsider his stance by hitting them where it hurts: "Aim for the kid." Crosshair then sets things up to literally incinerate them, and they barely make it out alive before being attacked by Cad Bane.

Now, they had seen what the chip had done to Wrecker, true; but Wrecker had previously acknowledged that he understood the chip existed and was willing to have it removed, AND it was squad+Rex against Wrecker (and even then they barely managed to subdue him). Crosshair refused to acknowledge even the possibility of a chip influencing his actions, obviously wasn't willing to have it removed at that point, had never shown any inclination of wanting to rejoin them, and squad against Crosshair+vast Imperial resources would have been suicide - ESPECIALLY since Crosshair proves time and again that he can predict their moves. There's no way around that.

So what does the squad decide to do? They run. They can't take Crosshair with them, but they aren't going to try to kill him either.

Crosshair remains too well protected for the squad to go after him, but we can see on Hunter's face as the squad leaves Ryloth after peripherally tangling with Crosshair that the situation REALLY doesn't sit well with Hunter.

And yet... WHAT ELSE CAN THEY DO?

So, from Hunter+squad's perspective: as far as they are aware, Crosshair is refusing all offers of help, and trying to go after Crosshair would be suicide. Crosshair can't be rescued if the squad is all dead.

An impasse, then.

ANOTHER FACTOR TO CONSIDER:

But the accusation of disloyalty goes far beyond Crosshair believing the squad left him behind; he sees disloyalty in the fact that they apparently don't share the same views. It's not just a conversation about why/how Crosshair was left behind; it's also an argument over ideology, as Hunter tries to point out the Empire's flaws while Crosshair is determined to remain a soldier with the one purpose he has always known.

And then we reach the climactic revelation: Hunter is trying to convince Crosshair that maybe his views are being controlled by the chip - only for Crosshair to tell Hunter he already knows about it and the chip is gone, AND he won't even tell Hunter when it happened. We can make educated guesses as to when Crosshair's chip was removed, but Hunter has been spending all this time trying to keep everyone else on the squad safe from a fellow brother who is being controlled by an inhibitor chip... only to find out that maybe Crosshair was acting of his own volition for who knows how long. This, I believe, is the point where Hunter started to consider Crosshair as having actually betrayed the Batch.

And no matter when the chip was removed, Crosshair is still convinced that the Empire is the right side, and believes that anyone who won't join the Empire is against him.

So, before the confrontation on Kamino: Crosshair is convinced the squad has abandoned him. Hunter and the squad can't feasibly do anything about it.

During the confrontation on Kamino, we learn that unless the squad is willing to join Crosshair and the Empire, he's going to continue to believe they have disowned him. And the squad will not join the Empire, much as they love Crosshair.

CONCLUSION: Crosshair's and Hunter's perspectives are both equally valid, especially based on what they know and later learn of the other's stance. Hunter rightly points out that wanting different things doesn't mean they have to be enemies; but as long as the rest of the squad members aren't willing to support tyranny enforce order, Crosshair will consider them disloyal to him, since they are opposed to the views he stands by, the views that - at that moment - define him. It will take other perspectives, outside the squad, to shift Crosshair's views (but that's the topic of another essay 😉). In the meantime, having finally had the chance to hear the other's side - even if they don't agree - Crosshair and the Bad Batch separate on at least marginally civil - if strained - terms... Though both still consider the other to be guilty of betraying the ideals of Clone Force 99.

[knittinglizards]

i think while the story doesn't line up exactly (of course, since the book is like 40 pages in a simple fairytale style and the actual plot has a ton of moving parts and is like Their Actual Lives) nina fits the half that eats the other in the nameless monster book way better even though the book character is called johan. like 1. he is in effect already the nameless one whose identity was swallowed up by hers (through no fault of either of them, not that either remember this at the point I'm at in this rewatch), 2. he seems to have rejected at every turn opportunities to live like. a normal life lol. matches well the 'we don't need names' line, 3. if she had succeeded in killing him like she tried to several times (and he seemed to be like. fine with as an outcome) everyone who had witnessed and could fully understand the worst parts of her life would be dead. except like poppe i guess. which isn't The Same as 'he had a name but there was no one left to call him by it' but similar

[thechangelingmushroom]

May I learn about this so-called 9/11->Holocaust scale?

I was confused for a moment

but yes I can give some context

This year in my stagecraft class, we were playing Gartic Phone (telephone/Pictionary but online for those unacquainted) because it was the Seniors’ last day. My friend Sparky, being who they are, was making 9/11 jokes the entire time

Which prompted this exchange

“Sparky, again with 9/11?”

“It could have been worse!”

several of us at once, without thinking- “What’s worse than 9/11?!”

“The holocaust?”

and thus it was born

technically 9/11 is the middle of the scale, the very beginning of it is abortions

so it goes: abortions -> 9/11 -> holocaust

the scale itself is a ‘how bad is x thing’ sort of thing

(This is from the class where some of my favorite out of context quotes come from. Like ‘use the stickers not grandma’ and ‘I just sneezed so hard I felt my uterus crack’ so you can tell how un serious we are)

[ladybeug]

he was stupid after all...

thats romance.

merry christmas!!!! I was thinking recently I don't just draw for fun very much anymore, so I put some time aside as a christmas gift for me.

[shesnake]

hello here's my little Armand essay. spoilers for season 2 and content warnings for discussions of racism, csa, intimate partner violence.

[ikarakie]

after eddie introduces a demogorgon to one of his hellfire campaigns, the kids get a little squirmy. they're nervously looking at each other and aren't engaging as excitedly as they usually do. when he calls time, he watches dustin rummage through his backpack and produce a walkie talkie.

he watches, a bit dumbfounded, as the kid demands a 'check-in'. all at once, multiple different voices come over the channel. stating a name and then saying 'safe.' ("nancy, safe." "robin, safe." "max, safe.")

"steve?" dustin demands. there's only static. "steve!" a little more frantic this time.

"he left to pick you up." a female voice replies, "he's probably fine. you'll see him soon."

none of the kids look particularly pleased, and pack up hastily. eddie and the other hellfire members all share confused glances. he, more morbidly curious than anything else, follows the little sheep as they hurry out of the school.

dustin is fucking restless as they all stand in the empty parking lot. he won't stay still and none of them are answering any of eddie's questions. and he only gets more confused when a brown beemer pulls in, windows down and playing depeche mode through the speakers. dustin goes to sprint towards it, and he has to hold him by the collar to stop him getting run over.

the beemer pulls up and steve harrington, in all his glory, steps out, frowning. dustin wrenches out of eddie's grip and all but bodies the guy, wrapping arms tightly around his midsection. steve, still looking puzzled, hugs back. lucas and mike trail after dustin.

"we called a check-in." dustin says, a bit muffled from where his face is smushed into steve's shirt. steve goes sort of pale, and- and presses a goddamn kiss to the top of henderson's head before tightening the hug.

"shit, i'm sorry." and eddie believes him. he sounds so guilty. "i meant to replace the batteries before i left. sorry, i'm okay." dustin pulls back and scrubs at his eyes. lucas takes his place, though the hug he gives is more like one of those bro-hugs jocks seem to love. steve smiles regardless. he just ruffles mike's hair, who pouts in response but looks relieved nonetheless.

"asshole." he mutters. "rule four, walkies on at all times." steve nods as the kid half-heartedly waves goodbye to eddie and hops in the backseat of the beemer. lucas follows. dustin seems reluctant to walk around the car, to take his eyes off steve for even a second.

"you wanna stay over tonight?" steve asks, warm and gentle. he folds his arms and in that moment eddie thinks they look sort of like brothers. "robin and me were gonna watch some films. we can call your mom from mine."

the kid nods, looking a bit happier. steve slaps him on the back and motions him to get in the car. dustin swivels to hug and say goodbye to eddie (who sort of forgot he was physically present in this moment) before doing as he was told.

steve turns to eddie. which- whew! hi pretty eyes.

"sorry." he smiles and eddie can't for the life of him figure out what he's apologising for. "they, uh- yeah. them." he gestures vaguely at the car and eddie just chuckles.

"hey, man, no worries." he says, a little breathless that he's having a conversation with the steve harrington. "they okay? never seen henderson look so rattled." steve nods, then seems to think better of it and just shrugs. cocks his hip to the side (stop fucking staring at his hips, munson, lord!)

"they will be." he glances back at the beemer, which is now full of childish bickering. pauses to think and then asks, "you using demogorgons in your campaign right now?"

eddie blinks at him. "yes? yeah. what the fuck- how do you know what that is? what-" steve just laughs.

"long story." there's a haunted look in his eyes before he continues, "just, uh- that's probably what upset them. demogorgons and us- them, i mean-" he waves his hand. "bad memories. hard to explain, but... if you could..." he doesn't need to ask, seems like he doesn't know how or even if he's allowed.

"got it, ill tweak the campaign." harrington smiles at him, something small and genuine, and murmurs a thanks. offers him a fucking lift, which eddie declines, motioning to his van. harrington just nods, tells him to get home safe and then clambers back into the car, yells at the kids to put seatbelts on with all the exasperation of a single dad, and pulls away.

eddie watches them go, having seen a side of harrington he'd thought dustin had been lying about. steve harrington, the caring babysitter, everyone's older brother, a changed man.

he starts escorting the kids to the parking lot more often.

[bats-and-the-birds]

I made a post involving young/feral/perceived cryptid Dick Grayson and someone tagged something about Barry Allen losing his mind when this terrifying child befriends his nephew and I have NOT stopped thinking about this since.

Because like, imagine you're Barry Allen. You've been doing this hero thing for a while, and you've seen a lot of things, but now your nephew has gotten himself wrapped up in this too, and goddamnit, you're worried because you know this life isn't easy.

Then he makes a friend - Ollie's boy, Roy Harper - and you breathe a little bit easier, because you know that however rough this life is, it's worse without friends. Besides, it's sweet. They're young boys, and they roughhouse, and tell stupid jokes, and play video games together sometimes. It's nice to see Wally just be a kid with someone that he doesn't have to hide from. And, yeah, sure, they get into trouble sometimes, pull pranks that go too far, get themselves in danger because they think they can take on something they can't, but it's still a net positive, because you need friends in this line of work, and that's exactly what they've found.

And you think about Robin. Not often, but you do think about him. Because you know nothing about him, and you don't want to, but he still has the face of a boy that's younger than your nephew. You wonder if he has friends.

But really, you don't think about him that much. You don't want to. He's freaky, and generally, thinking too hard about anything to do with the Bat is inadvisable.

Then there's a fight. A big one. You don't even really know who's fighting on your side until everything has cleared. It was basically the entire Justice League, no one dead, but a few injuried. And your nephew's there too. And Roy. And Robin.

No one really goes near Robin, ever. It was an unspoken rule, of sorts, and you're pretty sure it's just because everyone's scared of messing with Batman's little bird, though whether that was due to fear of Batman or the bird himself, you're not sure.

But Wally doesn't seem to know this. Wally doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Robin with a big grin on his face and grabs his hand, trying to tug him over to where Roy was patching up some injuries.

You notice that Robin doesn't go with him immediately. In fact, he looks confused. But if you know anything about your nephew, he's persistent, and eventually Robin lets himself be dragged over. Roy seems unconcerned, but you can tell that the other adults in the vicinity shift uncomfortably, unsure of what they should do, or if they should do anything at all.

It doesn't last long anyway. Batman calls for Robin and he bounds off, but you notice he stops and hesitantly waves a gloved hand at your nephew before he leaves. Wally waves back.

You don't think much of it.

Then, the next time you and Ollie catch Wally and Roy fighting something they shouldn't be, Robin's right there with them. It's the first time you've seen Robin without Batman in close proximity, and you think he looks just a little bit more human. He smiles sheepishly with the other boys when they're chastised for fighting things that they shouldn't, and you watch Roy ruffle his hair like there's nothing to be worried about. You're still worried.

You still don't think much of it though. Even when Robin's there with the two of them the next time, and the time after that.

But then, oh dear god, he's in your house. You don't actually notice him at first, for two whole hours, because it's normal to see Wally and Roy sitting on the couch and playing video games. You just don't realize that there's a third head in between them until you sit down in an adjacent armchair to see what they're playing, because Robin is just short enough that his head doesn't peak over the back of the couch.

You have to blink a few times to make sure what you're seeing is real, because nestled in between the two slightly older heroes in their civilian attire is Robin, sans his gloves, cape, and boots, but otherwise still in full uniform with his mask still firmly in place, holding a video game controller and laughing while Wally elbows his side to try to make him lose.

And you just sit back in your chair and stare, because what the hell are you even supposed to do in this situation? Your nephew has decided to make friends with Batman's goddamn son - the boy that you've seen sneak up on League members with super hearing, break a grown man's femur, and somehow fade into shadows in a bright yellow cape - and it worked. And now he's playing video games on your couch. And you don't know what to do about that.

[hiddenmoonbeam]

Finally kissing your best friend, hoping he loves you too.

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Pretty Boy✨

OOOOOHHHH BUDDY I'm excited to post this story! I'm not gonna ramble for this one, so please enjoy the ride 😉

(I'm a teeny bit late on posting this but better late than never!)

Summary: You find something peculiar in the walk-in closet...

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, lingerie, mention of toys, oral (f receiving), collars, pegging

"Damn it! Where the hell is it?," you shouted in frustration. You should have looked for that dress before you hopped in the shower, things would have been way smoother. Now you stood in your walk-in closet with damp hair and adorning nothing but a towel that was wrapped tightly around your chest. You could have sworn you saw that purple sequence dress hanging in here last night! Where could it have gone? You rummaged around your closet for 10 minutes now, but you still came up empty handed! You stomped over to the last rack of hanging clothes closest to the back wall, scanning every article of clothing.

While pushing each dress from left to right that wasn't the one you were hoping to find, something had caught your eye. A small golden handle on the left side of the wooden wall with hinges on the right side. A door? You were in here so often, it's hard to imagine how you could have missed it! Tentatively, you reached out to grab the handle, curious as to what you would find. The small door slowly creaked open and...woah...

You blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing what you saw hanging in there. "Lingerie?," you mumbled to yourself. Well, it certainly wasn't yours, you never really cared to wear something like that yourself, and Lucifer never seemed to mind your decision either, thankfully. You pulled one of the hanging pieces from the rack to examine it closely. The design was elegant as far as lingerie was concerned. Black fabric with lacy red leaf designs on the breasts and stomach area with no coverage around either side of the abdomen.

It was cute...but who's was it? Perhaps it was Lucifer's ex-wife Lilith's? You weren't sure why she would leave it behind. Or why Lucifer would keep them. But the more you looked at the piece of clothing you held, that didn't seem right either. This was small, smaller than most lingerie you'd seen before. And from what you had seen from pictures, Lilith was not a small woman, far from it. She had to have been at least 7' ft. tall, she would never fit in something like this.

You continued to ponder this until you went back to explore the hidden closet. There were more items located at the very bottom that brought a sudden blush to you face. "Holy shit...," you mouthed, struggling to get your brain to process what you've just found. You felt like you just accidently stumbled into one of Hell's sex shops! Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, collars, bottles of lube and...was that a strap on? What the hell was this perverted closet?! It didn't make sense! Why was this here? Who did this stuff belong to? Why would Lucifer...?

Wait...Lucifer...

Oh! OH SHIT!

It finally clicked in your brain. This was never Lilith's. This was Lucifer's!

“Ok, ok, it’s ok, it’s fine,” you told yourself, “it’s…oh fuck me…”

You stood there dumbfounded, imagining him in the skimpy outfit you held in your hand. You saw him sprawled out in front of you on the bed, drool trailing down the side of his mouth. You saw his half- lidded eyes staring back at you as you hovered over him, his expression filled with need and lust. Your face suddenly felt hot. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the footsteps growing louder behind you.

“Honey?,” Lucifer called out, “are you ready to go? We’re gonna be late for-” he froze as soon as he turned the corner and saw you in your hypnotized state. You snapped your head towards him, holding him in place with your vacant stare. You both stood there wordlessly for a few seconds until Lucifer finally found his voice again.

“I-I…,” he stuttered, “I can explain.”

Oh, you would love to hear his explanation for this. But you quickly decided that you were going to have a little fun with him. Feigning annoyance, you folded your arms across your chest, still hanging on the piece of lingerie.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about this, Lucifer?" you chastised, almost cracking a smile. "Or were you hoping that I wouldn't find this dirty little closet of yours?"

"Yes! I mean no! Th-that's not it!," he stumbled over his words. He was panicking. It was adorable watching his cheeks turn a shade of red you've never seen from him before. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down after the sudden heat spike he felt climb up his face. "Please, love, I'll tell you everything! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know what you were going to think. I was going to tell you...eventually."

"So let me get this straight," you replied as you sauntered your way over to him, making your way over to the shaken-up man. He backed away from you slowly until he hit the end of the vanity on the other side of the room, gripping it for dear life. Once you finally stood in front of him, you grabbed Lucifer by his tie and forced his face to be inches away from yours. He held his breath as you leaned in closer and closer until he could feel your hot breath on his lips. "You mean to tell me…,” you whispered, “that I could have been fucking you senseless in lingerie this entire time?!"

In that moment, Lucifer’s mind absolutely shattered. Did you say what he thinks you just said? He inhaled sharply after remembering how to breathe. “Y-You…I…th-this is…WHAT?,” he choked out.

“Did I stutter?,” you snickered. You closed the gap between you two and placed a searing kiss on his lips. Though hesitant at first, Lucifer couldn’t help but melt into you, his eyes fluttering shut, your tongues entangled in an elegant dance. You pulled away from him, much to Lucifer’s dismay and flashed him a lustful yet devious grin. “I’m sorry for acting like I was upset with you just now, Luci. That was a tad mean, I admit. In all honesty, it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Lucifer finally released his death grip on the vanity and stood up straight, adjusting his tie that you had loosened. “Th-That’s umm,” Lucifer swallowed hard, “that’s a relief to hear, darling. This is probably the best reaction I could have hoped for.” He flashed a nervous toothy smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think,” you smiled coyly, dropping the towel you had wrapped around your body and revealing your nakedness to a now wide-eyed and mouth agape Lucifer, “we can be a little late for dinner.”

You saw Lucifer swallow hard at the sight of you. “S-sweetheart,” he began,” I admire your eagerness, I really do! B-but we shouldn’t be late, it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation there and-”

Before he could finish making up excuses, you tossed the lingerie onto the vanity behind him and leaned forward to place your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him against it. “You’re the King of Hell, Lucifer,” you retorted, “what are they going to do if we’re late, turn you away? Besides…” you took one of your hands and palmed the very apparent bulge in Lucifer’s suit pants, causing him to moan, “we really shouldn’t go out while you’re in this state, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer tried to steady his breathing as you continued to rub him through his pants which were now becoming extremely tight and uncomfortable. “It’s-mmph fuck…your fault,” was all he could manage.

You chuckled, loving the effect you had on him. Not to be outdone, one of Lucifer’s hands quickly slipped down between your wet folds, eliciting a surprise yelp from you. You removed your hand from his pants and gripped his shoulder for balance instead. “Well, well,” Lucifer hummed against you, “seems like I’m not the only one who’s needy right now.” He continued to tease your entrance with his fingers, your grip on his shoulder growing tighter with every passing second. But you refused to let him have the upper hand.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play this, huh?” You breathed against his neck.

“You started it, so don’t-HEY!” With one swift motion, you latched onto Lucifer’s hips and threw him over your shoulder while he tried to playfully squirm away from your grasp. You turned and marched your way over to the bed with a coy smile. “Damn it, let me go!,” Lucifer laughed, but the hold you had on him tightened even further. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Please put me down, love, I didn’t mean to-WOAH!” You gave him wish by tossing Lucifer onto the mattress beneath him.

“If you’re really sorry,” you teased as you hovered over him, “you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, nodding his head vigorously. You chuckled at his eagerness to please you; it was always so endearing. “You know this is supposed to be a punishment, Luci,” you joked.

“Oh trust me, darling,” he smirked, “this will NEVER be a punishment for me.” With that, he grabbed ahold of your waist and forced your body forward, your dripping cunt now mere inches away his lips. You had no time to respond before you felt his tongue dart across your slit. A wanton moan escaped your lips as he worked his tongue around your clit, circling it with such vigor and passion. His hands dug into either side of your thighs, making sure you couldn’t move away from his ministrations. You couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips against his face, attempting to feel as much of him as possible.

“So g-good for me, Luci,” you staggered, “ffffuuuuck, s-such a good boy for me.”

Your words only seemed to make Lucifer pick up his speed, humming against your slick. His forked tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his own erection all but forgotten at this point. He was more lost in your pleasure and your intoxicating taste to worry about the almost unbearable tightness in his pants. You felt yourself reaching your peak. No matter how many times Lucifer goes down on you, you knew you’d never last long. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took pride in it. That knot forming in your stomach was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

“FUCK LUCIFER,” you moaned, “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You forgot how to breathe as your orgasm hit you, your walls clenching around nothing as Lucifer lapped up your juices and helped prolong your high. You caught your breath once your body began to relax again. You shifted your body downwards so you could see Lucifer’s face again, now freshly adorned with your release. He flashed you an innocent looking grin, making you smirk and roll your eyes. You gave him a quick peck on his lips, tasting the faintest hint of yourself on them.

“Good boy,” you praised him, a small whimper escaping Lucifer’s throat. “Go change for me,” you tossed your head to side, indicating to the clothing you left on the vanity. Lucifer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, nodding his head wordlessly. “I’ll be right back, love.”

You made your way off the bed and walked over back to the walk-in closet, stopping at your now new favorite section. You grabbed the strap on and placed it around your waist, adjusting the harness to make sure it was snug against your body. The appendage itself wasn't overly large, around the standard 6 inches. It was perfect for both of you though, who knows how long it's been since Lucifer's done this. You wanted to take things slowly. You grabbed a bottle of lube and were about to leave when you something else in that small cupboard caught your eye. You reached down and grabbed it, wanting to complete his little ensemble. You hid the object behind your back so Lucifer couldn't see it at first.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the closet once more. You scanned the bedroom in front of you until your eyes landed on him. His back was towards you, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, seemingly gripping the sheets below him. You could sense that he was nervous. And if you were being honest, you were too. But tonight you we're going to take care of him, he more than deserved it.

"Luci?," you called out sweetly. Lucifer sat up straight when he heard his name, looking over his shoulder and giving you a faint smile. You slowly moved towards him, your breathing becoming shakier. He stood up from his seated position, hands clenched at his sides when you stopped in front of him. There was no way to hide the flush of your cheeks when you saw him in his lingerie for the first time.

Breathtaking.

The minimal clothing hugged his body so well, and the black and red coloring made his pale skin pop. You couldn't stop staring, and he noticed. He looked away from you, feeling embarrassed, as if he were on display. You took your free hand and placed in under his chin, turning his head and gazing into his lovely yellow eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, Luci. So beautiful..." you trailed off, placing a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer couldn't help but bury his face in his hands from your words of affection.

"Can you turn around for me, baby? I have one last thing for you," you asked. Lucifer did as you asked, exhaling a deep breath. You took the object you had in the hand behind your back and wrapped it around his neck. A deep red collar with beautiful golden patters and swirls embroidered onto it. Sewn into the front in large cursive letters spelled the words "Pretty Boy". Lucifer turned around and faced you again, lifting his hand to grab his newly embellished neck. "It suits you, my pretty boy," you cooed, palming his cheek and gently rubbing your thumb against his soft skin. You could make out the tiniest of tears forming in your lover's eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"Are you ready?," you asked sweetly.

"Yes," he whispered against your hand.

"We're going to take our time, alright?," you soothed. "If at any time you want to stop, tell me and we'll be done, no questions asked. You promise?"

"I promise," he smiled.

"That's my good boy," you approved. "How do you want to do this; on your back or on your hands and knees? Whatever you want."

Lucifer swallowed hard. "B-Back, please. Wanna see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that" you chuckled. "Lay down for me."

Lucifer quickly crawled back onto the bed and laid down flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it underneath his head, doing your best to make him as comfortable as possible. You walked around to where his legs hung, grabbing the bottle of lube and placing some on your first two fingers. "Legs up," you told him, and he complied immediately. His ankles now rested on either of your shoulders as he looked at you with the neediest expression you've ever seen from him.

"Let's warm you up, love," you hummed, "just relax for me, okay?" Lucifer shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out as you shifted the fabric out of the way from his entrance. It also wasn't lost on you that his cock had been straining against his clothes this whole time, you planned on giving it some much needed attention. Slowly, you placed your first finger against his hole, feeling his body jolt from the sensation.

"I'm alright!," Lucifer nearly shouted, making sure you didn't pull away from him, "just...surprised me is all! Please don't stop."

With a smile, you pushed your index finger inside of him, feeling the tightness squeezing around you. Lucifer bit his lip and released a guttural moan. You set a slow pace as you thrusted your finger in and out of him, feeling his muscles relaxing with every movement.

"M-more, please more," Lucifer babbled. It was impossible to ignore his pleading, so you complied by inserting your second finger into him, picking up your movements slightly. "Ssshhhiiitt..." you heard Lucifer curse as you separated your fingers inside of him, stretching him further. You stretched and pushed your fingers inside as far as you could; Lucifer was already becoming an incoherent mess. After a minute or two of your continued ministrations, you finally removed your fingers from him, causing Lucifer to whimper desperately.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," you praised. You took the bottle of lube once more and applied a generous amount to the strap. You lined up the tip up against his entrance, hearing Lucifer's breath hitch. "Ready, Luci?"

"Yes, please," he whispered almost inaudibly.

You pushed the tip into him as slowly as you could, stopping only halfway when you heard Lucifer nearly scream.

"Do you need me to stop?," you asked anxiously.

"No, no! It's...it's alright," he heaved, "j-just give me a minute, please. It burns somewhat, I kind of forgot about that part." You stayed motionless for about 30 seconds before you heard Lucifer give you the okay to start moving again. You shifted your hips to pull out of him and began to slowly sink back into him. Lucifer clawed at the sheets beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations you were giving him. After only a few more seconds, you had sheathed yourself inside of him as far as you could go. The noises Lucifer was making sent shivers straight down your spine; you wanted more.

"F-fuck..." Lucifer choked out, "Please...please move...n-need it...need you..." He was barely able to form a complete sentence anymore. Not wanting to deny him any longer, you started thrusting your strap in and out of him at a steady pace. The slapping of your skin against his echoed throughout the room, mixing with Lucifer's moans of pure ecstasy. Lucifer arched his back as each of your thrusts brushed against his prostrate. You reached down and pushed more of the fabric away, finally freeing his aching cock that was already leaking an excess amount of precum. You began to stoke him in tandem with your thrusts. Lucifer's eyes shot open from this new sensation he could feel all throughout his entire body, letting out a scream of pleasure.

Lucifer stared back at you as you continued to pound into him. You saw the tears welling up in his eyes, a smile of pure joy spread across his face. It was a feeling of pure bliss; a sense of euphoria had ripped through him. His heart was full. You were and are his everything. You leaned down closer to him, and with your free hand, interlaced your fingers with his own.

“You’re taking me so well, Luci,” you cooed, quickening your thrusts. “You look so pretty, my sweet boy.”

“Hnng, c-can’t…fuckfuckfuck, so c-close, please, don’t stop…gonna-FUCK…gonna cum…” Lucifer mewled. “L-Love you…love you so much, my angel, p-please…”

Your thrusts became erratic and you felt his cock twitching in your hand, ready to burst at the seams. “Love you more, Lucifer. Cum for me, baby, it’s alright. Let it all out for me.”

With a few more sharp thrusts of your hips, his orgasm had knocked the wind of of his lungs. Strings of his hot seed burst out of him, ruining his lovely outfit and spilling over your hand. Your thrusts and stroking had slowed as you helped him ride out his high. Lucifer was left a breathless mess beneath you. You hummed as you licked your hand clean of Lucifer’s mess, savoring its taste. You inched your way out of him gently, locking your hands around his ankles and letting his legs sway freely off the bed once again. After stepping out of the strap, you went and picked up the towel you had left on the floor over by the vanity. You patted down on Lucifer's stomach, wiping away the remains of his orgasm. Crawling up beside him, you outstretched your arms and brought him flush against your chest.

"You did so well, Luci," you murmured against his ear, "are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Lucifer shifted himself so he could face you. His eyes seemed to shimmer when he looked into yours, his expression was soft and serene. "All I'll ever need is you, my dear. Thank you...for this. For everything. I love you...more than anything."

You leaned into each other, your lips crashing together as if it would be the last time. But you knew it wouldn't. You'd always be there for him, just as he would for you. You pulled away and brushed his fallen hair away from his face.

"I guess we missed our reservation," you joked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished," Lucifer laughed. "I should probably go change again, huh?"

"Yes, go get your suit!" Before he could sit up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, placing his forehead against your own. "But leave the lingerie on underneath. I'm going to want dessert after our meal."

~~~~

⬆️ God reading my Lucifer smut fics live reaction

I got a lot of explaining to do when I meet Gigachad St. Peter after I leave this corporal realm.

Tag list: @kermitdafroggy, @luc1fersducky, @orbitinglumps, @bigfatbimbo, @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis, @lilzebeth, @bbootyyyshaker9000

[sylenth-l]

Baby birb's first days on the Peak + wolves

===

Bonus: how it looks in the sketchbook and w/o text:

(normally I print the text bubbles, cut them out and stick them on top of the page btw :D)

[tesb]

STAR WARS FILM TRIVIA: Episode I – The Phantom Menace (1999)

George Lucas considered duality to be one of the main themes of the film, as seen in Padmé’s double role as the queen and handmaiden, and Palpatine’s duality. Other examples include the master/appentice relationships between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and between Darth Sidious and Darth Maul. There is also the symbiotic link between the Gungans and the Naboo.

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

HARRY BEING HARRY ON TOUR — Love on Tour: UK + Europe Leg, 2023

[meownotgood]

WEEK THREE — smoking + aki hayakawa, 18+, fem bodied reader, riding, shotgunning, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, cockwarming, a touch of angst, aki indulges in his two favorite vices: you and his cigarettes

kinktober masterlist

C'mon, Aki. Make me yours. 

Aki hasn't been able to focus on anything but those words since he heard them. 

First came your hands on his shoulders. You'd squeezed behind his chair as he was lighting his cigarette, his palm cupped around the flame to shield it from the wind. Aki closed his eyes, stiff muscles relaxing from the way you rolled them under your palms; you leaned in, you kissed him softly on the cheek, tilted his head up by his chin to kiss him on the lips. 

Your voice is a whisper right next to his ear. They went to bed already. It's just us. You're so tense, you've been stressed all day, haven't you? Do you want to relax now? 

Aki swallows. He reaches over and sets his lighter aside. Your fingertips dance across his neck, tapping his skin, feeling out his hurried pulse. He doesn't take long to figure out his answer. 

Come here. 

You're quick then to make your way in front of him. Climbing into his lap, he watches you, pliant. Your hands find his shoulders and grip tight for leverage, feeling the muscle underneath. The small balcony chair now occupying the two of you creaks slightly from the extra weight. Cool night air flicks sharply against your skin and the back of his neck, it rustles Aki's hair and whispers promises in his ears. The same promises you're affectionately cooing to him.

I'll make you feel good. That's what you want, yeah?

And even though it's late, you shouldn't do this here — Your lips press in warm kisses onto his neck, and Aki is tilting his head to make everything easier. He exhales, his skin tingling. A plane passes overhead like a shooting star's figment. You're sighing already even though he hasn't done anything, he feels your hands blindly fumble with the hem of his sweatpants and he lifts his hips, he doesn't try to stop you. 

Aki's heart thuds heavy in his chest, in his ears, a rhythmic drum. Smoke wisps steadily from his unattended cigarette. He holds the small of your back with his free hand, his touch reassuring. You prop yourself up on your knees after you've discarded your shorts, and Aki wraps his thumb around your underwear. His gaze doesn't leave yours as he tugs them down to your thighs. 

He pulls you closer, his arm holding your back again. Your entire body tremors when the head of his cock nudges your entrance. Palm moving to your hip, he doesn't let you hesitate; Aki pulls you down, sinking you onto him. His hand clenches, gripping you tight, he mumbles a swear under his breath. His chest begins to heave once he's all the way inside, he savors the familiarity of your warm cunt while his thumb rubs your skin in soothing circles. He pants between soft exhales of pleasure: So good, oh- you feel so good. 

Neither of you can breathe for a couple of moments. Aki's brows twitch the way they do when there's something more he wants to say but can't manage it. His eyes dart from you pressed up on his lap to your face, his expression softening instantly. 

The cigarette he's holding has been burning for a while now; he hangs his arm down, he fiddles with it and ash scatters onto the concrete below. The starry night sky glimmers in his gaze, shadows and lights from the city blanket his features. He's all of your vision, and when he's inside you, he becomes all that matters. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders in something like a hug, and Aki's got the ghost of a smile on his face even though you can't tell, he's closing his eyes once your voice fans out warmly over the shell of his ear. 

I've missed you, you know. 

Aki blinks. He knows, he definitely knows. He rubs your back as his way of answering. 

Slowly, he brings his cigarette to his parted lips, the end flares to life as he takes a long drag in. The rich taste of smoke in his lungs is even better than he remembers. You lean backward, his gaze catches yours and he holds his exhale. Sitting up, he closes the distance, he cups your cheek, his head tilting. Warm lips brush yours and he meets you open-mouthed, breathing a steady puff of smoke that lingers in between you once you both pull away. 

Your senses spark alight, the taste of his cigarettes is a reminder of all the nights you've shared puffs of smoke with him in the exact same way. It reminds you of the excuses you'd make to kiss him, when everything was indirect and left with more questions. The moments where you'd light one up when you're all alone in hopes of pretending he was still there beside you. 

Thought you were dead for a while, you're mumbling, like it's simple, like it isn't a big deal, You worry me sick sometimes. 

A pained look grows in intensity on Aki's face, yet you still feel you have no idea what he's thinking. Before you have the chance to speak again, he's desperately pressing his lips to yours. A kiss with no smoke in between is just a kiss. He cradles the back of your neck ever-so gently and you indulge, allowing your fingers tangle in his hair. 

One kiss turns into two, and then three, and then you've lost count. Your hips shift impatiently, grinding, and he pulls away to toss his head back with a groan; he pulses hard inside you and you're reeling, dizzy. You can't keep from moving any longer, but he's already coaxing you, grabbing your side and following along with your movement. 

Aki shudders. It's like his skin's been set on fire, enveloping warmth spreading onto his back and over his spine. He's already sweating — he can feel the moisture on the side of his face — in spite of the cold temperature outside. His slight grunts of pleasure mix with every echo of skin hitting skin, the sounds quiet and secretive, enough for only the two of you to hear. 

That's where you say it.

Aki kisses your jaw, flicking his cigarette over the ashtray. Your soft bounces on his lap have you out of breath already. He can hear the wobble in your voice, overtaken by arousal once you've leaned in close to him. 

I want you to make me forget about all of it, Aki. Make me yours. 

He freezes, he's shaking, not from the cold but from something different. Aki brings his cigarette back to his mouth with hesitant fingers. He takes a deep breath in, and his hand slips underneath your shirt to find your bare side. You're surrounded by smoke as he breathes out, it clings to the edges of your form in his vision, makes them fuzzy. His gaze connects with yours and he passes the cigarette to you wordlessly. The pace of your hips slows to a halt, you close your eyes to take a drag, exhaling quickly, reaching over to stamp out the spent cigarette.

Perhaps he's thinking about this too much. Maybe it was nothing, just a bit of talking to get him going, no meaning behind it. His stupid heart can't help but tell him differently. 

You've always been more to him than he's had the courage to let on. He tells others at the division you're his friend, tells you this is nothing serious, and you might think the same. Might think he's just using you as another vice to get by. Something to forget and stamp out once he's done. God, he's an idiot. 

None of that could be any further from the truth, he never meant to push you away, never wanted to be apart from you for as long as he has. You're precious to him, you're infinitely precious and for once, he wants you to know that. 

"Yeah," Aki starts in response. Voice all husky, his eyes half-lidded, he's made up his mind, "I'll make you mine." 

He's cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss immediately. Teeth nip gently at your lower lip, and he groans in the space between you, he kisses you hard and lets his tongue crash into yours. His taste is like smoke, ashy and familiar. He grips you hard, he begins to guide your movement until you're taking the hint, arms wrapping around him while you bounce to a faster, needier pace. 

His hot breath on your lips, he praises before he kisses you, "There, just like that. Just like that."

Your moans into his mouth grow louder, your eyebrows knit together from the pressure. The sound echoing each time you move is getting wetter. Aki kisses your lips over and over again to keep your noises muffled, allowing no-one else to hear. His thumb caresses your cheek as a form of encouragement, too tender for how dirty this is, for how wildly you're riding him.

And between your perfect noises and the squeeze of your slick pussy around him, he can't help himself — He rocks his hips up into you, the fat tip of his cock nudges right where you wanted it and your cunt is pulsing. He separates from you with one last kiss, he strokes your shoulders gently because you're suddenly panting so hard it sounds like it hurts. 

Aki gives you a moment. Then, he's taking in a shaky breath. "Did you-" 

"Can't help it," You answer, and Aki's gulping, his throat dryer the more you go on, "I haven't since the last time you were here. I didn't even touch myself."

"Shit," He rubs his temple with his fingers, trying not to stutter, "You were waiting for me?" 

You wrap your arms around him innocently, you hum an mhmm into his ears. Aki feels heavy, your lips press to the side of his neck and scatter kisses onto his skin, and he finds your hips, grinding you close. Already, you're quickly working your way back up, humping against him messily with trembling thighs, chasing as much pleasure as you are willing to take.

Aki mutters a Careful, into your ear, slowing you a bit. His hold on your hip keeps you going at a lax pace, getting yourself used to it again, gentle arcs of your hips still more than enough to make you moan.

He won't make you wait. Not now, not ever. Aki's going to have you come undone for him over and over again, until you can't take anymore. Until pleads of his name are stuck in your throat, until there's no doubt in your mind that he's yours.

This time, he thrusts up into you without any hesitance, gasps and whines leave his lips in tandem with your own, just as loud. Your movements are ragged, you're sensitive since you've already came and Aki takes full advantage — Rutting his dick nice and deep, he's got you falling towards the edge already. It's completely different to have him in control, to have him fuck you how he knows you like, to feel him stuttering because he doesn't want to come undone yet and to hear his focused breathing in your ear, heavy and all for you.

He melts at your earnest little noises, he kisses your cheek, kisses you like he loves you. You ask him for more and he nods, he gives you everything. More of his cock, more of his devotion. 

"Aki-" You drop your forehead to his shoulder and oh, you sound perfect, "I'm gonna cum-"

Aki tremors with the weight of how close he is, his heart pounds fiercely in his chest. He holds you as close as he can get you and rocks you on his cock, giving you just enough.

"I've got you," He pants, palm working up to hold your back, his words are syrupy and warm, "I'm gonna cum inside you- Let go for me."

A few more moments and you're finishing in unison; Aki spills inside, thick and dripping, his chest heaves, his arms are trembling. Your core fills with warmth, he mutters a quiet shhh into your ear because you're getting loud. You fall limp against him and Aki keeps you close. He opens his eyes slowly, his vision a blur, coming into focus after a couple of blinks.

Your hips lift to allow him to slip out. Aki's lips purse, his palm caresses your side. He brings you up more and he presses the tip of his still hard cock to your entrance, easing in just barely at first, and then sighing along with you as he easily slides all the way back inside. 

"Don't stop," Aki chokes, you can't tell if it's a plea or a command, "Not yet." 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Someone's gonna see us."

"Let them." He strokes your sides, speaks right up against your nape, "Just... stay still. Don't push yourself. But don't move. I'm begging you."

Your legs are beginning to hurt. Your head is spinning, he holds you and murmurs under his breath a weak apology, one you don't even know what for. Aki isn't a selfish man, he isn't greedy. Everything he does, he does for you, and you're sure of it. You have no idea if you can cum anymore but you're willing to try, you're going to try, because you know that's exactly what he's after.

You catch your breath for a few moments longer. Every fiber of yourself sears in the shape of his name, you start to rock your hips shallowly — The smallest movements, and yet they're still so goddamn overwhelming. Aki reminds you that you can take more with his lips on your jaw, his kind touch on your spine.

Your whole body aches with pleasure. It's hard to move, so wet and slippery from his cum. His shaft is a creamy, sticky white when you lift up nearly all the way only to sink back down. The faint kisses he gives to your neck make Aki's lips quiver, he sneaks a glance at the sight of you taking him and thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest.

You're both so fucking messy. Your thighs are soaked, his cum is leaking everywhere each time you move; you've got his chair filthy, his lap even filthier. He was supposed to pull out and he'd planned on it until he got those thoughts in his head about you being his, and despite how risky it is, all he can think of now is how badly he wants to give you some more.

He thinks he's straight-laced, yet he gives in to your temptation all too easily. He can't stop. Though, neither can you.

You can feel him in your stomach, and it's too fucking good, too perfect. Aki makes the prettiest face when he's inside you, you stare at him the moment before your foreheads touch and he looks like he might cry, but you wouldn't mind that. You'd wipe the shiny droplets from his pretty face and tell him to promise to fuck you like this for the rest of his days, never holding back, love-filled and burning with longing.

He's got you bouncing on him faster now, one hand in yours, the other resting on your ass. His bangs form a sweaty mess around his face. He keeps his forehead to your own, laces his fingers with yours and holds on like you're his only tether. He feels you slow down, listens to your feeble gasps for breath. You steady, and he takes the reigns away from you, rolling his hips, fucking you deeply with no chance to rest.

You give him one more grind into his lap with the last of your energy.

"Oh, f-fuuuck, that's it-" He's breathless, just as overwhelmed as you are, "Fuck, fuck… Say my name. Please." 

You whine, shaky hand grabbing onto his tightly as he thrusts into you over and over: never rough, just heady and intense, more than you've ever been used to, but everything you need. You pant his name between heavy gasps of pleasure. Aki, Aki, Aki… 

"God…" Aki can't take this, he shuts his eyes to keep them from rolling into the back of his head, "I'll never leave you, I won't leave you again I swear. Look at me." 

You know he's telling the truth, you'd never doubt his words but when he holds your cheek in his hand and guides you to meet his eyes you're sure he isn't lying. Pupils blown wide, but eyes still so blue, the night sky's reflection on the ocean. His breath hitches the instant you're looking at him, his face is so hot he can't stand it. He's gonna lose it, he thinks he'll lose everything right here and now and he wouldn't even care, as long as you're with him, as long as you're happy. He needs to make you happy. Nothing else matters, nothing.

"Please, I- I'm sorry," He can hardly speak, talking through clumsy bucks of his hips, "I r-really am, 'm sorry, you're so important to me, you're everything."

You whine something inaudible, Aki kisses your lips and tastes the smoke on your breath — He wants to say more, wants desperately to mumble some nonsense about how he's gonna fix it, he won't make you miss him anymore, you can run away together or something stupid, and you're gonna be his and it'll be perfect. But once he's close, he can hardly manage anything near that, so he just says the best happy medium.

"Love you," Aki gulps, his whole body feels warm, so warm. "I really do."

You moan loud for him, you reach for his shoulders and hold onto him tight. "Love you more than anything, Aki-"

That's it. That's all he needed to hear.

Aki whimpers hard, you feel him promptly throb inside you; he freezes up and needs another second to start hastily fucking into you again. He pulls you into a hug way too tender for this, he thrusts into you as best he can with clumsy movements and weak knees, his hand gently holding the back of your head.

"I- I love you," He's crying now, he's definitely crying, "I'm so- I love you, I'm gonna- Are... are you close?"

As if on queue, you nod your head quickly and you manage to gasp, "Cumming again, I'm gonna cum-"

Aki kisses the side of your face, he curls into you, he chants your name like it's all he knows.

With a few final rocks of his hips, he brings you to the edge, you're louder than you've ever been and he says a silent prayer that none of your neighbors are out tonight. He was already close, but the feeling of you pulsing around him, tight and warm, has him cumming again right after you, filling you up for the second time. He slows gradually, he takes you to a gentle peak. You come down nice and easy, while Aki holds your chin and kisses every inch of your face.

You breathe one final huff, and then you collapse right into his chest.

"You alright?" Aki rubs your back, he lifts you off of him and briefly stumbles from the sudden lack of sensation. "Think you can keep going?" 

You laugh, your voice all raspy. He smiles to himself, finding it pretty. You bury your face in his shoulder. "Dunno. Maybe."

"I'll help you clean up first. And go get condoms. The corner store a few blocks down is still open this late, I think."

"Not necessary. The second thing you said, not the first."

"I still miss you." Aki admits, honest, "I know that doesn't make any sense because you're right here, but…" 

Your breathing's grown deep. You lean back, and you've got a grin tugging at your cheeks as you reach to brush stray strands of hair away from his face and behind his ears.

"We can keep going, I'd like to. If you give me a little bit to relax."

From here on out, he'll give you all that he has.

Aki wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He gestures for you to go inside.

"My room. We've got all night."

[hxltic]

Choso remembers you saying something about it. In fact, you had asked him incredulously, “Cho, you have never touched yourself?”

And you said it so confused and almost sad, like you were genuinely upset for him. “That’s why you’re so pent up all the time,” you added. “It’s not something you should feel bad about.”

The memory crowded his brain when he returned to his apartment one night, slightly angry and plagued by what he doesn’t yet recognize as overstimulation, just thinking maybe his ponytails are too tight and adding to his headache. His muscles were sore as well, which didn’t help.

So he leisurely showers and lays in bed, trying his best to fall asleep and end his emotional torture, but it’s to no avail. He lays there on his back with his eyes closed. Contemplating. He has a hard time going to bed with the whole curse thing anyway.

Thinking back, you implied that the action was some type of release of frustration or stress. Choso understands that his head is constantly wracking about familial stuff, staying alive, his rent; it never truly stops. But what if it could?

The thought is crude, like it should be forbidden to indulge in himself that way. But you said there was nothing to be ashamed of, and above all else, he trusts you the most.

You. It all started with you. You were always helping him out, being his best friend and patiently teaching him things that nobody else could bring themselves to say. You were there for him and he owes you the world.

In fact, sometimes he would ask questions or pretend to be uninformed just so you could explain random, usually unimportant, stuff. He couldn’t understand why, but your puffy lips as you speak and your pretty eyes glistening— on the verge of full laughter at his confusion— makes the air thick around him. He’s only half human, but it’s like he carries the desire equivalent to a full one. He has barely been able to control himself.

In the darkness of his room, under the covers, Choso doesn’t even notice his hand trailing down his abdomen and over the cloth of his loose pants. It was so natural how he began to lazily dig the heart of his palm through the fabric, gently at first.

You had shown him the different pleasures of the world around him, most of which you liked to do. Mall shopping, for example. He thought it only made sense to carry your bags while you hopped from store to store, and in return, he got some say on what you left the store with. You couldn’t care less about the male opinion on how short your skirt was, but Choso was different. You knew it would be unfeigned.

“How’s this one?”

You step out of the dressing room in a pair of high heels that laced up to your calf and twirl in the skin-tight dress. The color fell on your complexion perfectly, it cinched your waist in just right, and covered just enough of what it needed to. The fabric hugged your thighs and the intended sheerness of the dress left just a faint shadow of the red set you were wearing underneath. But there was no point in waiting for his answer; it was all over his face.

He was speechless. He sat with his mouth slightly agape, holding his gaze to you up and down. You clear your throat, finally drawing his eyes up to yours, and he somewhat comes to his senses.

“Y-you look great.” He mutters.

Of course it’s in your nature to tease him, rolling your eyes jokingly: “Just great? God, Cho, I see how much you hate me now.” But you didn’t expect the immediate response after.

“No, no— more than that. There’s not a word for it.”

Now you were speechless, staring at him with the astonishment he had on his face previously.

Choso’s large hand wasn’t as gentle now, driving deep into himself in search for friction. His breathing slightly picked up from the movements since the room was becoming hotter around him, stifling even, so he throws the covers off his wanting body. With a deep sigh and furrowed brows, he tries to relax back into his pillow, welcoming the small hums and the newfound rush of cool air against his open chest.

Every now and then he’d also think about the time you took him swimming. He already knew how as a survival instinct, but that wasn’t the point. You were showing him around. Popsicles, hot summer days, and glowy laughs.

After the both of you sat on your beach chairs while munching on your matching snowcones, you agreed to get in the water if he did. That’s how you found yourselves at the steps of the pool, Choso trying his damndest to be respectful when you remove your cover up, but he somehow can’t peel his eyes away no matter how hard he tries. You’re too busy thinking if you should revoke your statement while glancing at your reflection. Unfortunately for you though, you hadn’t thought that he would have no reaction at all to the water temperature and step right in without hesitation.

“You are insane,” you declare, your eyes hopefully showing the fear through your shades. Choso chuckles and stands at his full height in the three feet, and instead of trying to figure out if you were staring at his dripping figure, he glides towards you in the water.

He reaches out for you, still stuck with only your feet in the pool.

“Here, give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, you do. He walks backwards into the water.

In an escape from the cold, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, linking your ankles behind his hips. He tries his best to keep his breathing steady as you stay hooked to him. “I’m going to sink in, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay,” you breathe.

Everywhere you connected was hot despite the coolness of the water nipping at you, and yet it didn’t make the journey down any easier. His hands hooked under your thighs as comfortably as possible, but the main burn in your heart stemmed from the words. It was truly an endeavor not to think about them out of context because surely he didn’t even notice the accidental innuendo.

Choso held his breath during the slow, controlled descent while you clung onto him. It isn’t until you get to the bottom that the real fight emerges.

“Oh, it’s not that bad!”

And even though he’s squatting, leaving both of you completely surrounded in the pool, when you pull away with a fat smile on your face and the shades pushed up, Choso could barely even think.

His hand finally pushes past the waistband. It wasn’t hard to find his length that was already standing up as far as it was allowed in his pants.

His eyes tighten when he feels the pressure of his own grip, and how relieving it was. Slowly, his hand moves up against the taut skin, only to be hit with a substance he feels blindly at the tip. He kicks his pants off with an easy motion in order to see himself.

He was flushed but too aroused to be embarrassed. Already gathering sweat and heart beating fast, he recognizes he has two options. Stop, or keep going without full knowledge of how to do it. Usually he’d ask you, but he’s smart, and some things he has to figure out on his own. Plus, he’s sure it all comes to the same outcome.

He swipes the substance from the top, and without a second thought, spreads it around so it eases the journey his hand slowly takes up and down his shaft. It proves not to be enough, so he rolls over to the cocoa butter you got him. You said his skin looked lifeless, like it needed some moisture.

When you looked at him that day, you glistened with a happiness he’d never seen before in his arms. Holding onto him even when you no longer needed to. He might as well have been looking at the fucking sun because he would do anything to see you like that again: staring at him like he was the only person in the world, your breasts close to spilling from your bikini top, hair tossing in your face from the wind, and only inches away from where he now recognized he wanted your lips most. His.

He could spot every freckle and dimple in your skin.

But that wasn’t even the best part. Your fingertips rested on his jaw and your palms on his neck, slowly caressing him while you dipped further on top of him underwater. You told him there shouldn’t be anything under his swim shorts. Of course he listened, but now he’s trying to determine if it’s a blessing or a curse. Intentional or not, every time you moved, the touch of your bare skin and the hold he had on where your thighs meet your ass was electrifying and downright addictive. He can still feel it to this day.

Choso’s heart rate was skyrocketing. He lacked some understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. He may not necessarily know what love should feel like, or reciprocated feelings, but he knows what he’s feeling now isn’t to be ignored. If it was, it wouldn’t be so goddamn suffocating.

His free hand brushes the hair over his forehead back at the epiphany. His other one is controlled, sliding up and down his cock continuously. There was so much precum leaking at his sensitivity, making his eyes flutter and his words unstable. At first it was just groans and soft moans falling from his lips. Now, he needs the words for what he’s about to do next.

Somehow he finds his hand hovering atop his bedside table, ripping his phone off the charger and dialing your number.

A few rings later, he hears your faint air conditioning in the background. “Cho?”

Instead of a response, a heavy, elongated sigh sounds on the line. Your voice was so refreshing to hear that it actually startled him. He thought he was ready to talk about whatever his feelings were, or ask about them, but maybe he got intentions of the choice to call you slightly wrong. His thumb slips just under his pink head, flinching his hips and ejecting whimper from his mouth.

He stares into the darkness, not even attempting to hide. “H-hello,” he mumbles.

“Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Choso swallows, putting the phone beside his ear. He looks down at what he’s doing. Calves straining, cock throbbing, and muscles tensing. Had he always been this reactive? You both rest in silence, his as an occupied one, but a silence nonetheless before he interrupts it.

“I wanted to—” His grip became a little too hard and a low groan slips into the mic. He was trying to communicate without notifying you of what he’s doing, but you had brought it up unprompted that day so he doubts you would mind if it came to that. “—hear your voice.”

“Well, I’m here now. Hey, are you sure you’re completely fine?”

“I-I… fuck,” Choso curses, which is a rarity in all honesty, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He hears you shuffle. He assumes you sat up, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

It’s like you were put on this earth just for him—to guide him, to trouble him, but it’s all a side of the same coin. And he loves every second of it. Your voice was so fulfilling even with its mocking tone, and maybe it’s just the arousal coursing through him, but he recognizes it as what it is. Flirting. With this fact, the world slows, leaving the intensity of the moment and the growing feeling in his lower half. His speech is impaired by his own breathing.

“Yeah,” he replies. Breathless and hot.

Once again, there’s another moment of silence. A squelch sound bounces off his length as he increases speed, still shimmering with wetness in the dark, and he’s thinking maybe you fell asleep. His balls tighten every now and then and he thanks the universe for the signal because when he touches them, his eyes almost roll to the back of his head.

The sound he releases is mostly air. It was frantic and choppy and loud, as well as completely received on your end.

“Where are your hands?”

He processes your voice, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Huh?”

“Where are your hands, Choso.”

He tips his chin down, glancing at the stickiness between his fingers and his dick standing tall, itching for more. It’s weird, he thinks, but he admires his work and how he doesn’t feel dirty or the least bit uncomfortable with it. He watches the clearish-white seep from the peak when his fingers clamp around his base and squeeze; he hums satisfactorily.

“Busy.”

Incredulously, you parrot, “Busy?” A smile inches onto your face and he only knows because he can hear it in your voice. “Are they stroking anything, by any chance?”

On that note, he begins undulating again, tipping his head back to the pillow. It was burning desire, for multiple things. He didn’t know what, but you’re for sure one of them.

He grins softly but cockily, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Because I’m so ‘pent up’ all the time?” He turns his head to the phone as if it were you lying beside him.

You both laugh in a daze, the feeling surreal. It then goes quiet.

“I’m feeling a little pent up right now, actually,” you coo.

Choso copies, “Oh yeah?” And he understands what you mean, because his cock tightens and warms. His speed enhances once more, sloshing somewhere in the back of the call and making the “h” sounds of his words lengthy.

“Yeah,” you moan on the other line. It was light; lighter than his. But his are the very reason why.

On top of the pleasant surprise of him taking your advice, he called you to experience it, and his voice is deep with fatigue but serene with arousal. It didn’t take a genius to guess what you were doing in response. “How does it feel Choso?”

“Keep talking and I’ll see.”

That instant he twitches again, his hips now thrusting up into his fist for some type of release. It was growing with every word you spoke. He bites his lip and keeps his eyes closed to relish in the moment because it is ten times more exhilarating in someone else’s presence. Yours.

“Are you close?” You question. Your breath was more contained than his, but he could hear the movement of the covers.

Another grunt, “Yes.” In fact, he was so close, there isn’t anything else that he’d want. It practically overtook him.

He could barely hear you, or understand you, rather. And if he did, it took him repeating your words over again.

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?”

It was snappy but his voice gave it away. “I called, didn’t I?”

“I bet you’re imagining it’s my hand, right? Or when you come it’s my face you’re spilling on?”

He curses under his breath, jolting his hips up and gripping his cock harder. Rougher. No, he actually wasn’t imagining that, but now that you brought it to life, there’s no going back.

What you said after was unfortunately heard loud and clear.

“Slow down for me.”

And it should have been embarrassing how instantly he took his hand away, because if he didn’t, cum would be painted on his chest by now. He groans strongly and hisses as if in pain at your denial, breaths thick and weighty. “H-Holy shit.”

Choso never got angry at really anything, but here he was, brows low in irritation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice over the calming way he spoke either, but that doesn’t matter now. Had he gone slow he still would have came.

He speaks as confidently as you do laying on his back, dry hand flipped onto his forehead while his breathing regulates. “Why won’t you let me come?”

You had your own reasons, one of which being you took it as the perfect opportunity to pleasure yourself. “Because I said so.���

Choso opens his eyes to his cock as possibly erect as it could get, bobbing with every time he moved. It was an angry red instead of its usual pink now. “I’m so close,” he placates himself a bit, “…just…let me.”

You don’t respond, just release small whimpers of your own— but he knows you’re still listening. He sighs deeply, “…Please.”

It was so breathless it might as well have been a moan in its own. “What’d you say?”

“What?”

“I didn’t hear you.” You heard him.

“…Please let me come.”

He was shaking, his hand already wandering closer to his dick in pure anticipation you would say yes. Thank God you did after a few quiet seconds that were anything but tranquil— he actually thought that he was about to pop.

It’s swift when he cups his hand and runs from the base to the tip, squeezes there, and uses a few of the fingers to drag over the wet skin of his balls. The sounds he made previously come back tenfold.

His hips jerk and his abdomen follows. His back lifts from the bed, causing him to rise onto an elbow as he strokes himself through his climax. His engorged cock throbs in his hand and he shudders. He shuts his eyes just as milky white cum flies out in spurts around his waist and stomach.

Meanwhile, your own peak was near, and when Choso huffs through his, yours hits like a train. His vision was black and spotty, but he could hear you cry his name somewhere in the distance. This only made it worse. You carry him even farther into his orgasm since he thinks about what they’ll sound like in person. His name rolls off your tongue so beautifully already; when you’re under him, it’ll put him on his deathbed.

He blinks his eyes open to the mess that he can’t bring himself to care about in the moment. He flops backward onto his bed sheets while trying to keep his lungs in order.

It seems to be that for you as well because a few much needed-minutes pass.

“Cho?”

He hums back leisurely.

You ask, soft and sweet. “Can I come over?”

“See you in ten,” he sits up.

©️hxltic