#and then I played the game and I was like uh what this is not the same man

[sloaneispunk]

“too sweet for me”

frontman!in-ho x you

when in-ho developed feelings for you in the games, he realised how much older he was compared to you. but age is just a number…right?

��⋅⋯ ──── ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ──── ⋯⋅๑

after the first games, reality set in. you sat on your bed, trying to scrub the blood off your hands and face. you were practically clawing at your arms, but the blood wouldn’t come off. then, you were approached by a man. ‘player 001’ it said on the jacket.

“you’re hurting yourself like that.” the man said to you, kneeling down by your bed.

“i’m fine.” you gave him a weak smile as you stopped.

“come, let me help.” he took your hand, taking the sleeve of his jacket, gently rubbing the dry blood off of your arm as you watched.

“thank you.” you whispered.

“you’re welcome.” he looked up and smiled. “you have some here…” in-ho licked his thumb, hesitating as if he was asking for permission, when you nodded, he cleaned your cheek.

when he was done, you thanked him once more.

“what’s your name? you look awfully young.” he commented.

“y/n…” you said shyly, making his heart swell.

“i’m young-il, it was nice to meet you.” he said before he got up, but you grabbed his arm.

“wait, i uh, c-can you stay?”

in-ho looked down at you, why would you want him to stay?

“i shouldn’t, i-” then, he heard a group of rowdy boys on the other side of the room, the leader with purple hair picking on a weaker girl. “on second thought, i think i should.”

in-ho stayed with you until lights out, keeping an eye out for thanos’ group and making sure that you were safe from them.

how old were you? definitely much younger than he was, but you were so sweet, so innocent. he loved it.

the next day, in-ho hadn’t slept. he had been too caught up watching you sleep, admiring as every hair fell in place, your chest heaving with every breath you took. he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t approached you with a motive. he knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from going to the bathroom when everyone was asleep to jerk himself off to the thought of you.

“y/n, come, have mine. you need to eat more.” in-ho said sternly, passing you his packet of milk as he ate his breakfast with you.

“why? you should have it.” you rejected him, tossing it back to him.

“you need it more than me.”

“i’m not a kid, young-il.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him causing him to chuckle.

you weren’t. so why did he have the urge to protect you?

then, he heard the voice of gi-hun, he turned around. there his real target was. in-ho brought you along as he made his way to the group, approaching them with a friendly smile.

easily, they welcomed you both with open arms, just like how in-ho knew they would.

“so why did you pick ‘o’?” jung-bae asked, mouth stuffed full.

“oh, i just need more money to pay off my debt…” in-ho started. “… i had a wife and kid but i lost them because of my gambling habits.”

the whole atmosphere of the group fell, everyone didn’t know what to say.

you somehow felt guilty. this man was old enough to be your dad, why were you attracted to him? besides he already has a family outside this place. your heart sank, making you look down at your food as the others continued to talk.

“what about you?” you heared in-ho ask, making your head shoot up. “i’m sure your parents must be worried, why do you want to keep playing?” he pointed to the ‘o’ on your jacket.

“it’s just me.” you replied solemnly, “i don’t really have anyone waiting for me.”

you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring into your soul as you immediately regretted revealing that part of yourself. you mentally slapped yourself, you were being too vulnerable too quickly.

“hey, it’s okay. when we get out of here, we’ll all continue being friends!” jung-bae nudged your arm, making you smile.

“yeah! we’ll all go eat a feast when we get out!” dae-ho agreed.

in-ho didn’t like that idea, and his face didn’t even try to hide it. he didn’t like that you would hang out with anyone other than him.

‘players please proceed to the next game’

you were terrified. after knowing the stakes at hand, you knew it was suicide continuing, but you didn’t have any other choice. in-ho noticed you stiffen, he gave your arm a squeeze, letting you know that he was still there.

when you reached the second game, you learnt that it was going to be played in groups of five. luckily for everyone, your team already had five members.

you took your seats in a line on the floor, awaiting instructions. in-ho sat in front of you, still ensuring that you were sat close to him as the game commenced.

the first two teams took their places at the start line, both eager to win the games. but it was harder than anyone had thought. eventually, neither was able to complete all stations in time. you watched as they were being taken out by the guards, shot down with no remorse.

you instinctively grabbed onto in-ho as you gasped at the gnarly sight in front of you. if you didn’t get your head in the game, that would be you soon enough.

“what are you thinking about?” in-ho questioned when you had failed to answer him, lost deep in your thoughts.

“i’m scared, young-il.”

“nothing will happen to you, i promise.” he replied, ruffling your hair. “stay strong for me.”

you nodded.

when it was your turn, you could feel your legs shaking with every step you took. in-ho was the first to link your arms with his, giving you a subtle smile to calm your nerves.

as the game started, the team made their way to the first station. dae-ho picked up the ddakji, throwing it once, hard onto the ground. by some miracle, the blue envelope had flipped and everyone cheered.

at the second game, jung-bae took the stone from the guard. you shifted closer to in-ho, giving him space to aim. in-ho took the opportunity, pulling you close against him, you were everything at that moment. he could feel the warmth radiating off you, your smell filling his nostrils, making his head dizzy. he barely noticed when everyone cheered once more ehen the stone had been easily knocked down.

then, it was your turn.

“breathe.” in-ho whispered in your ear when he noticed how shaky your hands were.

to his surprise, you had managed to pass within a single try. he cheered you on louder than anyone in the team, moving on the the next game.

even as he spun the spinning top, your arm never left his. maybe it was a good luck charm, because he too was able to spin it on his first try. part of his was relieved because he didn’t embarrass himself in front of you but another was disappointed. in-ho had planned this moment out for so long, he would fail multiple times to keep gi-hun on edge. it was funny how just by having you there he had screwed up his whole plan, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it.

naturally, gi-hun had also made it without having any redo’s. everyone was estatic as they were being led out of the game room, but in-ho was off.

then, he felt a small hand on his shoulder causing him to turn around only to be met with your face.

“are you okay?” you asked as you caught up with him. “we did it, why do you look so down?”

“just surprised i guess.” he said, trying to brush it off.

walking back into the room, you were approached by thanos and his team.

“you goons made it back, huh?” thanos jeered, arms crossed as he looked you up and down.

that didn’t go unnoticed by in-ho. he slapped the boy across the face, shocking him as he gasped dramatically.

“look at me when you’re talking to me.” in-ho spat.

“who are you? is this your boyfriend, girl? isn’t he a bit too old?” thanos laughed. but in-ho didn’t take it lightly, punching him, causing him to fall to the ground as his nose started to bleed.

“young-il, that’s enough.” you stopped him before he could take it further.

with one last look of disgust, in-ho walked off, leaving the boy on the floor.

in-ho might not have realised it but that comment took a toll on him. it made him realise how true his words really were. he was in his 50s and you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right for him to feel how he felt towards you.

“young-il, what happened-”

“go away, y/n. i don’t even know why you care so much.” he raised his voice, pulling his arm away before you could touch him.

you were dumbfounded, taking a step back as your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill.

did that come out too harsh? he hadn’t mean to snap at you, he was just so caught up in everything.

you simply nodded, heading back to the team as he stood there alone, regret overwhelming him as he cursed under his breath.

that night, he couldn’t sleep. how could he? he tossed and turned in his bed, trying to erase your pitiful face from his mind. eventually, he got up, walking towards your bed, but you were gone.

he started to panick, rushing towards the guards, pushing pass them to leave the room. as he practically ran pass the bathroom, he heard soft cries. shit.

he barged in, “y/n? are you here?” you didn’t reply.

he went to the only closed stall and gently knocked, making sure that he didn’t scare you. “y/n, open the door. it’s me.”

“go away.” he heard your muffled voice.

he really did mess up.

“honey, open the door, let me in.” he pleaded.

after a few moments, he heard a click. then, he saw you, sitting on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, your eyes and lips puffy from crying.

“oh, darling.” he cooed, kneeling down, just like how he did when you had first met. “why are you crying?”

you didn’t reply, only gazing up at him with sadness in your eyes. he didn’t need you to tell him what was wrong, he knew.

he sat down, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his chest as he held you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it.” he murmured into your hair. “please don’t cry.”

his heart broke all over again with every tear that fell. he had hurt the only person that didn’t deserve any pain in this place.

what was he going to do? he had never felt this kind of weakness before, he almost felt vulnerable with you. you needed him and he needed you too.

[sigilslvt]

JEALOUSY • DRABBLE

☣︎ Summary: The men all have their reasons for getting jealous around you. But how exactly do they react when they feel the threat is much more real? SURELY, they’re rational, right?

Includes: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami

Tags: fem! reader, friends to lovers, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, teasing, bulging, pussy eating, choking, breeding, praise, overstim, possessiveness, threatened gun violence, toxic possessiveness, car sex, dry humping, rough sex, squirting, pining, premature ejaculation, love bombing, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, true form sukuna, slight angst

WC: 13.1k

A/N: I cackled writing Choso’s, my poor baby is too precious 😩💜

༒︎ Gojo Satoru ༒︎

You pull into the gas station because, once again, your car is on its last leg. Satoru’s been absolutely useless this entire car ride, lounging like some kind of overgrown housecat, sunglasses crooked on his nose, humming the most obnoxious song he can think of just to get under your skin. His long legs are kicked up on your dashboard like he’s king of the world.

“Finally, a pit stop,” he says, stretching dramatically. “I was starting to think you’d just run us out of gas for fun. You know, to create a bonding moment.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, putting the car in park. “Stay in the car. Not that I have to tell you that.”

He snickers, not even looking up from whatever weird little game he’s playing on his phone. “Sure thing, sugar. Let me know if you need me to heroically pump the gas for you. I’ll try not to make it look too easy.”

You ignore him because giving him attention only makes it worse. You grab your wallet and step out, the cold air biting at your face as you swipe your card and get ready to fill the tank as quickly as possible so you can return to the cocoon of warmth that is your car. You’re in your own little zone, minding your business, when a voice breaks through the quiet.

“Hey there! Need some help?”

You glance up, startled, and see a guy walking over. He’s got that effortless, small-town-boy charm, the kind of guy who probably calls everyone “ma’am” and knows how to fix a tractor. He’s smiling, too— a little too widely, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s taking the pump right out of your hands.

“Oh, I had it,” you say, trying to be polite, but this guy is already on a roll.

“Nah, no worries,” he says, grinning. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to pump their own gas. It’s just not right.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between confusion and being impressed, because— wow. Is this really happening?

You glance back at your car, hoping Gojo hasn’t noticed, but as soon as your eyes land on his, you know you’re doomed. He’s sitting up now, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, staring at you both like he’s just been served the juiciest gossip of the year. His grin is growing and you’re sure he’s ready to put on a show.

Before you can stop him, he throws open the car door and steps out like he’s been summoned to the stage. He stretches unnecessarily— arms up, head tilted back, like he’s on the cover of a sports magazine— and then saunters over, hands in his pockets, looking way too pleased with himself.

The gas station guy looks up, noticing Gojo for the first time. His smile falters just a little. “Oh, uh… hey. Didn’t realize you had someone with you.”

Satoru’s already grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he says, waving a hand. “I’m just her boyfriend. You know, the adoring, perfect, doting one who pumps her gas all the time.”

You groan. “Toru—”

“What? I’m just saying, it’s cute that you’re trying to help, bud,” he says, turning back to the guy with a grin so wide it’s almost terrifying. “But this is kind of my thing. I know she’s just the sweetest, but she’s taken.You get it, right? Yeah, you get it.”

The poor guy blinks, clearly unsure if Satoru’s joking or about to start something. “Uh, yeah, no problem,” he mutters, handing the pump back to you like it’s radioactive. “You two have a good day.”

“Oh, we will!” Gojo chirps, giving him a little salute. “And hey, nice try, man. Better luck next time.”

The guy doesn’t even look back. He practically sprints back to the safety of the gas station, and as soon as he’s gone, you turn to Toru, crossing your arms and pursing your lips in annoyance.

“What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, feigning innocence as he leans casually against the car. “I was just making sure no one stole my job. You know how much I love pumping your gas.”

You gape at him. “You’ve never pumped gas in your life!”

“Exactly,” he says smugly. “That’s what makes this moment so special. It’s a sacred duty.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “You’re so insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders, “you love me. Isn’t that wild?”

“Whatever. I’m gonna get a snack. Want something?” you roll your eyes and start walking toward the station.

“I’ll come with, I’m craving something sweet.” he smirks with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite discern.

You raise a brow and walk with him, entering the gas station with the goal to grab a bag of chips and water, but the second you head for them, your hand is being trapped by Satoru’s and he’s tugging you toward the bathroom. You shoot him a look of confusion and annoyance, but he pays it no mind as he yanks you inside, closing the door behind you and pressing you against it.

“Toru, wha—”

“Told you I wanted something sweet, sugar. Bend over a little f’me.” he instructs, turning you so you’re facing the door. Your palms lay flat against it, trying to use it as leverage to turn yourself, but he presses your head to the door, too, his strong palm mushing your cheeks to it, sucking his teeth in disapproval.

“You’re insane, w-we’re in a gas station,” you try to reason with him, but his hand’s already shoved up your skirt and peeling down your panties. “Satoru, seriously…”

“Y’telling me to stop? She’s cryin’ f’me, though, I think she’ll be so sad if I don’t give her what she wants,” he purrs, getting to his knees and littering kisses on the fat of your ass. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re lost to him the moment he stuffs his face into your already dripping cunt, bucking yourself back against him and into the feel of his greedy tongue slipping between your folds and down, down, down to your clit. You can feel him smirking against you when he draws out a long shaky whine from your lips between your panting and while normally his cockiness would annoy you beyond belief, it instead turns you on more. And yet—

“Wh-hah— why couldn’t this wait until we got to the hotel?” you ask, nails scraping down the door when he plunges his tongue into your twitching hole.

He pulls away for a moment, spreading your ass to spit a glob of saliva between your folds and slurp it back up while sucking your clit. No answer. You huff and tremble, unsure of how long you’ll be able to keep yourself standing if he’s just gonna keep eating you like a man starved.

You try, you really do, to keep your voice down, but when his tongue hits that spot inside of your gummy walls, his hand between your thighs and thumb working on your clit, you can’t help but let your moans slip out. And oh, does that make him even more unrelenting. His thumb draws circles on your clit quicker and with more pressure, his tongue fucking into you as rough as can be. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing labored as you feel that sweet sweet build up that you love so much. He knows what comes next and while normally, he’d see you to the end, this time he stops, earning a frown from your pretty face.

“Wh-why’d y—” you start.

“Y’mine, say it.”

“What? Toru, what’s—”

“Say. It. Say y’mine… say y’love me and I’ll make you cum so good, sugar, I promise.” he all but whines.

You don’t know why it needs to be said or what’s going on with him, but you’ll be damned if you let your orgasm escape you. With every second that passes, it runs from you, so you give him what he needs. “I’m yours, baby. I love you.” you coo.

“Again.” he huffs against your cunt, making your knees weak. He’s so close. You’re so close.

“I love y— hah,” your breath escapes you when he delves his tongue back into your pulsing hole. “Fuuuuck… I love you, I love you, I l— fuck!” your cunt tries it’s best to grip his tongue, but he fucks it into you with more force as you cum on it, losing strength in your legs and slumping down while your brain goes dumb with pleasure.

He holds you up, tongue slipping out of you and back to your clit, his head shaking side to side while he licks at your clit, overstimulating you beyond belief. All you can do is cry out for mercy, palms battering at the bathroom door as you raise your white flag.

With that, he frees you from the sweet torture, massaging your thighs and resting back on his ankles. “I’m pumping your gas from now on.” he huffs.

Coming back to your senses, you realize why he pulled this stunt off. “Satoru. Were you… jealous!?” you chuckle in disbelief.

“I’ve got nothing to be jealous about, it seems. What with the ‘I love you, I love you, I—’” he mocks you while standing up and you smack his arm.

“Sh-shut up.” You huff, pouting as he puts your panties back in place, dolling you back up and kissing your shoulder.

“Nope. But you’re gonna wish you had when the poor guy out there’s blushing redder than red.” he teases. Your eyes widen and you cover your mouth with your hand when you realize he had to have heard everything.

“You’re insane.” your voice is muffled by your hand.

“Insane’s one word for it,” he smirks. “I like to say I’m just crazy for you.”

Not long later, you’re climbing back into the car. Satoru follows, flopping into the passenger seat with a contented sigh like he’s just won a marathon.

As you pull out of the station, he stretches again, kicking his feet up on the dash like he owns the place. “You know,” he says casually, “you should really thank me. That guy was totally about to ask for your number. I saved you from a very awkward situation.”

And you could quite literally kill him.

༒︎ Geto Suguru ༒︎

The room is buzzing with conversation, a polite undercurrent of tension that doesn’t escape you. Cult leaders and their followers mill about in finely tailored clothes, exchanging calculated smiles and empty pleasantries. You’re trying your best to look engaged, but your thoughts keep drifting to Suguru.

He stands a few feet away, surrounded by a small circle of curse users, his tall frame commanding attention with ease. His black robes flow elegantly around him, his long hair tied back neatly. The faint smirk on his face, the calm way he speaks— it all oozes confidence. Control. Every now and then, he glances in your direction, his sharp eyes softening for just a moment before flicking back to the conversation.

You’re nursing a drink near the refreshment table when someone sidles up beside you.

“Ah, I was hoping I’d get the chance to meet you,” a smooth voice says.

You turn to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his polished appearance almost too pristine. His expression is warm but calculated, and his sharp eyes are already fixed on you. Takeda. You recognize him instantly— leader of a large, influential cult. Non-sorcerer, but powerful in his own way.

“Good evening,” you reply, forcing a polite smile. They have their role to play, Geto tells you, so you make sure to keep appearances with non-sorcerers despite their usual poor attitude toward you.

He smiles wider. “Good evening, indeed. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here all by yourself. It seems almost criminal for someone as lovely as you to be left alone at an event like this.”

You feel your cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, a small flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not alone. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you say, gesturing subtly in Suguru’s direction.

Takeda follows your gaze and chuckles softly. “Suguru Geto. Of course. I’ve heard much about him.” His attention snaps back to you, and his smile turns almost wolfish. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised. I didn’t think someone so… captivating would end up with a man who seems so creepy… Besides, I’m sure he’s always so busy. Too busy to truly appreciate a beauty like you.”

Your face heats further, and you stammer, “He’s not too busy. He’s just—”

Before you can finish, he takes your hand in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned, deliberate, and enough to leave you momentarily stunned. Not in awe, but in pure shock. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

Your breath catches, and you feel a wave of heat rush to your face. You try to pull your hand back, but his grip is firm— not unkind, but enough to make you falter. You can’t ruin appearances by hurting him, so you allow it, praying he’ll give up soon.

“A pleasure meeting you,” he murmurs, his lips still ghosting over your skin.

And then you feel it— the air shifting suddenly. A heavy, familiar presence fills the space around you, and Takeda finally releases your hand. You glance over your shoulder to see Suguru a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on the two of you as he approaches.

“Takeda,” Suguru says smoothly, his tone light but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip because you know better.

Takeda straightens and flashes a smile that’s far too confident. “Geto. What a pleasure to see you,” He gestures toward you. “I was just introducing myself to your lovely partner. She’s quite… enchanting.”

Suguru’s lips twitch, curving into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m aware.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels too loud in the quiet. Suguru’s gaze flickers briefly to your hand before returning to Takeda.

“I see you’ve already made yourself comfortable,” he continues softly.

Takeda chuckles nervously, clearly unsure of how to respond. Geto’s not usually the type to be confrontational in public. It’s normally all smiles and politics for him, so this has Takeda stunned. “I meant no disrespect, of course.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully. “No disrespect… Of course not.” He tilts his head slightly, his smile sharpening. “But you’d do well to remember your place, Takeda. Admiration is one thing. Touching, however…” He trails off, his tone turning razor-sharp, dark eyes honing in on the poor man’s. “That’s dangerous, especially for someone like you.”

Takeda falters, his polished demeanor cracking for just a moment. “I— I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters before excusing himself and retreating into the crowd.

As soon as he’s gone, Suguru turns to you, his sharp expression softening slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looking at you in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“You seemed… flustered,” he says finally, his voice quiet but probing.

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “I wasn’t, he just caught me off guard,” you mumble.

Suguru steps closer, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Are you sure? Because from where I was standing…” He pauses, his voice dropping. “It looked like you didn’t mind it.”

“Suguru—”

“Did you like it?” he interrupts, his tone impossibly soft, almost vulnerable. “A weakling holding your hand, kissing it like that… Did you enjoy it?” 

Your heart twists at the faint frown tugging at his lips, the rare glimpse of uncertainty in his usually composed expression. That’s when you recognize the look in his eye. It isn’t anger, it’s fear. Insecurity. Things you never expected to see from him.

“No,” you say quickly, reaching for him. “Of course not. I could never, baby.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign of dishonesty. Finally, he exhales softly and takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over the spot where Takeda’s lips had been.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm.

He leads you down a hallway, wanting to be away from the noise and chatter of the convention. When he pushes open the door to an empty room and pulls you inside, the silence feels almost deafening in comparison to everything on the outside.

Suguru closes the door and turns to face you, his dark eyes heavy with emotion. Without a word, he cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice raw.

“Say what?” you ask softly, your hands resting on his chest.

“That you’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against yours. “That you wouldn’t leave me for some monkey.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his tone. “I’m yours, of course I’m yours.” You whisper, your hands curling into his robes. “Always.”

The next thing you know, his lips are melting yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more insistent. When he pulls back, his breathing is uneven, and his eyes are darker than ever.

“Again,” he all but whines, his lips trailing down to your jaw. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice racing as your heart squeezes. “Only yours.”

He exhales sharply, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. “Good,” he whispers, moreso to himself. “Good… because I need you.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses you again, this time with a desperation that feels like he’s trying to erase every trace of Takeda’s touch from your skin.

His nails dig into your sides, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, tasting all that you have— all that you are. He’s needy, moving to hoist you up and hook your legs around his waist.

Your dress rides up your thighs and he wastes no time gripping at the fat of them, subtly rolling his hips into you in a way that tells you he may just be doing it subconsciously. Gasps are shared between your lips as he kisses you a few more times before moving to swipe his tongue up your neck, stopping just under your jaw and sucking a big fat hickey into the crevice.

It feels so good that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working their way down, down, down to your ass, pulling you into him with every roll of his hips. You feel how hard he is even through his robes, unable and unwilling to stop yourself from sliding the top of his gojogesa off his broad shoulders. You’re dipping your head down to pepper kisses all over his shoulder while he marks you up, your nails leaving marks of their own on his skin from how hard you’re gripping him.

You know what this is. Know what he needs. You’d be a fool to stop him from taking it. “Sugu… here.” You tell him, emphasizing your words by rolling your hips in tandem with his.

You swear you hear him growl as he tears his lips from your throat and grips your underwear on one side to tear them off, your eyes widening at the action. Suguru’s normally a calm, calculated man, even when he makes love to you, everything is suave and he’s always in control, but now? Now, he’s become someone entirely different. Someone needy. Someone eager to prove a point. To stake a claim.

“Here, angel.” Is all you hear before your mouth is stuffed with your own underwear and– when did he whip his dick out? You’ve got no idea, but it’s plugged into you before you can react, a long and grateful groan just spilling from Suguru’s lips like he’s finally laying in bed after a long day of hard labor. He’s home. Your head falls back against the door and he uses the opportunity to attack your neck again, littering the skin with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.

He’s got no rhyme or rhythm in his thrusts, he simply ruts into you with a force that has the door shaking, the metal bar rattling and making your stomach lurch with fear at the fact that it could so easily be pushed for you two to end up on display for everyone. The fear falls away soon, however, replaced with nothing but pleasure when he’s targeting that wonderful gummy little bullseye that makes you go dumb on his cock.

Your eyes start searching for something in the back of your head, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and soaking your underwear as your shaky moans are muffled by the fabric. And you don’t know when it started, but your ears tune into Suguru whining the same thing repeatedly. “Mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—” again and again and again with every punctuated thrust targeting your poor cervix.

Your nails rake down his back, hoping to find some sort of balance to compensate for the fact that your legs are beginning to ragdoll, no strength left in them as they flop by his sides with every thrust. Except, you don’t have to worry. No, his grip on you is bruising, he never wants to let you go.

And you wish you could see his face in this moment. See how he looks when he’s so adamant about proving it to himself that you’re his. Before you know it, you’re snaking a hand into his hair and tugging his head back, earning a needy little whine from his puffy lips before he’s looking at you. Oh, is he looking at you. Like you’re the world. Like you’re salvation. His brows are drawn tightly together, a pout on his lips that tells you he’d be nothing without you. God, you wanna kiss him. Wanna tell him a million times over that you’d never even think of another.

The look on your face tells him exactly what you want, you think, because in the next instant, he’s tearing the underwear from your mouth and crushing his lips into yours. His thrusts have rhythm now, his hips fucking into you with urgency. Every time his thick cock slips past your puffy folds, you’re inched closer, oh so closer to cumming and your stomach draws tight at the feeling. He’s chasing both of your orgasms, not once missing that spongey little spot that makes you see stars as he pounds you into the door, your voice sounding out to God knows how many people are in the hallway while you kiss him, your drool now slipping down his chin.

You hear him groan into the kiss as his hips start to falter– he’s close. And yet, while his rhythm is lost, his force is worse. Every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there. “I love you,” he whines against your lips before breaking away and letting his head fall back. “I love you, I love you, I. Fucking. Love. You.” He punctuates the last repetition with a thrust for each word, cumming on the very last one along with you, who couldn’t help but cum at the words he’s never said before.

You two had been together for a year. A whole year and not once had Suguru ever uttered the words. You always knew he wasn’t an emotional man, so you never expected to hear the words. You felt it, though. His care for you. It was in his actions. How he never forgot an important date, how he would always bring home food or a treat or flowers for you, how he loathed being away from you for any given reason. And yet, the words still shock you.

He ruts into you a few more times before he stills, nothing to be heard except for your breaths shared between each other until his eyes go wide– perhaps in realization of what he’s just said, and he kisses you. Softer this time. More sure of himself. Like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that he’s confessed.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your thighs. “Don’t let anyone else touch you like that again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Not angry, not upset, just… needy.  “I don’t care who it is. I won’t stand for it. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I just can’t bear to see that again.”

You smile and offer a tired chuckle, brushing his hair back from his face. “Y’know, for someone usually so calculated and knowing, you sure are stupid,” you shake your head softly. “I love you, too. More, actually.”

His lips press against your temple, and he exhales slowly, the tension in his body finally easing. “Not possible,” he murmurs again, his voice soft. You can hear his smile in it. “Nobody’s ever loved anyone like I love you.”

༒︎ Toji Fushiguro ༒︎

You aren’t sure if dragging Toji to your high school reunion is a brilliant idea or the worst decision you’ve made all year. On one hand, you know he can charm the socks off anyone when he wants to, all cocky smirks and lazy grins that send shivers down your spine. On the other hand, he doesn’t exactly thrive in situations that involve niceties and polite small talk—especially with people he doesn’t give a shit about. Still, you’ve convinced him, mostly because you want to show him off. He’s hot, and he’s yours. What’s the point if you can’t gloat a little?

Toji is surprisingly well-behaved for most of the evening. He nurses a glass of bourbon with his usual swagger, leaning against the bar and throwing you looks that tell you that he’ll be waiting for you to make this worth his while later. He even manages to avoid scaring off too many of your old classmates, though you catch the occasional side-eye when he’s not so subtle about telling them to fuck off. Everything’s going smoothly.

That is, of course, until he notices you talking to him.

You don’t mean to bump into your ex-boyfriend. Really, you don’t. But there he is, standing near the drink table with the same easy grin you remember from your teenage years. He calls your name, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling back and walking over. Toji’s gaze burns into your back the entire way.

“Wow, you look amazing,” your ex says, his tone warm but casual. It’s just an observation— a compliment between old friends, but you can just feel the way Toji’s teeth grind from across the room.

“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, keeping your tone light. The conversation flows easily, filled with harmless reminiscing about old high school antics. Nothing romantic. Nothing serious. Just memories of embarrassing pranks, favorite teachers, and the god-awful cafeteria food.

But you know Toji. You don’t have to look to know he’s watching, his sharp green eyes narrowing every time your ex laughs or steps just a little too close. You can practically hear the internal dialogue: “Who the fuck does this guy think he is?”

Then your ex does it. The thing you know is going to push Toji over the edge.

He hugs you.

It’s quick and friendly, a casual embrace to say goodbye. But as soon as your ex’s arms wrap around you, you feel your body being eaten up by your boyfriend’s shadow. You pull back quickly, about to turn to Toji to defuse whatever storm is brewing, but it’s too late.

He moves quickly— silent and deadly. One second, he’s leaning against the bar. The next, he’s standing behind you, his presence towering and suffocating. His hand rests on the back of your neck, deceptively casual as he leans in close.

“I dunno why yer touchin’ her, pal,” Toji drawls, his voice low and dangerous, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Your ex blinks, clearly startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere. “I… sorry? I was just saying goodb—”

Toji’s hand moves and you worry he may actually hit the poor guy. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna say goodbye, then get the fuck outta here,” Toji says, his grin sharp and feral as he subtly lifts his sweater just enough to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “Before I decide you don’t need yer legs.”

Your ex’s eyes go wide and he stumbles over himself to retreat, mumbling something about it being nice to see you before practically sprinting away. You don’t even have time to scold Toji before security is suddenly very interested in the two of you.

Five minutes later, you’ve been escorted out of the venue, Toji’s hand resting possessively on the small of your back. You wait until you’re alone in the parking lot to whirl on him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, smacking his arm. “You pulled a gun on him?!”

“Relax, doll,” Toji says, his grin infuriatingly smug. “I didn’t even take it out.”

You groan, stomping toward the car. You reach for the passenger door, but before you can open it, his arm shoots out, blocking your path.

“Nah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Yer sittin’ in the back with me.”

“What, am I in trouble now? Gonna spank me?” you ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Toji doesn’t answer. He just opens the back door and shoves you inside, sliding in next to you and shutting the door behind him. You cross your arms, giving him a pointed glare. It doesn’t take long before he’s sulking.

He leans back against the seat, legs spread wide, and huffs like an overgrown child. “Wasn’t jealous,” he mutters.

You snort. “Sure you weren’t.”

“Ain’t funny,” he grumbles, glaring at you.

You can’t resist pushing him just a little further. “If you’re not jealous, then you won’t mind if I go back inside to grab his number. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

His head snaps toward you, his jaw tightening. In one quick motion, he turns, caging you against the seat with his arms. “The fuck you just say?”

“You heard me,” you say, smirking. “If you’re not jealous, it shouldn’t bother you.”

Toji’s eyes narrow, and the tension in the car shifts again, but this time it isn’t anger. It’s something else entirely. He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Ain’t about bein’ jealous,” he says, his breath warm against your lips. “Ain’t nobody else touchin’ my girl. Don’t care what reason they have.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as his lips ghost along your jawline. His touch is possessive, his grip firm enough to leave no room for argument. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Toji…” you start, but he cuts you off with a low chuckle.

“Nah, you’ve been mouthin’ off thinkin’ yer cute,” he says, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “Time to shut that pretty mouth o’ yours.”

He's enjoying himself, towering over you in the confined space of the car, the sunlight streaming in from the windows only highlighting the wolfish grin that spreads across his face.

“You’re so—”

"Hm?" He hums, his hand already snaking down your side, easily slipping under the hem of your dress as he plants a kiss onto the side of your neck. "Y' got somethin' t' say, doll?" 

His fingers dance on your skin, inching closer and closer to the spot he knows will make you weak in the knees. He's toying with you, getting a kick out of your restraint as you try to formulate words again. But before you can finish even a syllable, he cuts you off.

"Save it, sweetheart. Was gonna be nice 'nd all when we got home t’night, but you had to go and run that pretty mouth with yer ex." He growls lowly in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So while yer getting yer brains fucked stupid, I want you t’remember… this is on you.”

With a rough grasp, he flips you onto your stomach in the backseat, your dress riding up your ass as he yanks your panties down with a swift tug, the cool air hitting it and making your hole clench around nothing. His dick is hard and straining against his pants, pre seeping through to form a dark spot. The anticipation of what's to come has your breath hitching, heat pooling between your legs. He leans over you, the weight of his body pressing down onto yours.

He’s rutting against your ass, one hand sliding up to toy with one of your nipples while his other hand massages your hip. God, if you could see the needy little look on your face right now, then he’d finally get you to understand just why he’s so addicted to you. You’re just so gluttonous for him. Always wanting more, more, more. And of course, he’s always willing to give.

But right now isn’t the moment for giving. No, he needs to take. To take and take and take until there’s no more left of you to give to anyone but him. Always him. He backs away just enough for him to unzip his pants, his cock springing free. His hand finds it immediately, stroking himself in slow, teasing motions, hard length throbbing against your bare ass. There's a devilish grin on his face as he utters, "Gonna show ‘er how much she needs me."

Without waiting for a response, he aligns himself with your sobbing cunt, teasing your folds with his thick head just swiping back and forth and mixing his pre into your skick. He groans at the contact, his hand gripping your hip tighter. Suddenly, with a swift thrust, he plunges himself deep, his girth stretching you so mind numbingly good that you fear you may just pass out. The thing is, he’s barely in, but the sensation is already overwhelming, causing you to gasp and buck your hips.

He wishes you knew how fucking good you feel. Wishes you knew that whenever he fucks you, that tight ring of resistance tries so hard to push him out. That is, until he’s fucked his fat tip into you a few times, because then you’re practifally sucking him in. He knows the stretch is a lot. Knows you’re sore hours later without fail and yet, you still beg for more. Just like now.

Words are failing you, but your look is enough. You want more. Need more than just his tip. You wanna be broken in. And so he does. He feeds you inch after inch of him, sitting up and pausing at the halfway point to admire the way your cunt looks swallowing him so eagerly. He grasps at the globes of your ass, jiggling them and biting his lower lip at the God granted sight.

His free hand moves to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair before he grips tightly and brings your head up so he can press your face into the window. And just light that, he fucks the rest of himself into you roughly, grunting.

"Fuckin’— take it," he rasps out, taking a brief moment to adjust to the feeling of your tightness around him, unable to resist a little moan of his own. Then, he starts moving. Slow and punishing at first, then picking up speed with the same punishing force. Each thrust is precise and purposeful, perfectly hitting that spot inside you that makes you feel fuzzy. He's unabashedly vocal too, grunting and groaning with each delicious slide in and out of your wetness. "Fuck... y' take my cock so good..." he compliments, pushing your face harder into the back window. 

Easing up on his grip on your waist, he rolls his hips, grinding against your ass before pulling out for just a moment to slap his tip against your folds, watching as your cunt twitches and then thrusting back in again. His actions are deliberate and controlled, meant to stir you up and drive you to your limit. 

"Please baby, please, please, please..." you moan helplessly, your words swallowed up by the sounds of your bodies slapping together and his grunts of pleasure. But he merely chuckles darkly, gripping your hip and pressing your face against the window harder as if to anchor himself and punish you at the same time, his thrusts never faltering. 

"Y' can gimme more than that," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans down, teeth nibbling at your exposed neck. 

He slows almost to a stop, but the slight shallow thrusts still feel so overwhelmingly good you think you’re gonna go insane. “Y’really think she could live without me? Mmm mm, no, she needs me. I’m the only one who can stuff this greedy little pussy the way she needs to be stuffed. Isn’t that right, baby? Say it f’me.”

“F-fuck! Toki, gonna—” SMACK!

“Not talkin’ to you, princess. Talkin’ to her.” He delivers a pointed thrust into you to emphasize the fact that he’s genuinely talking to your cunt in his pussydrunk state.

Your sure he’s left a permanent handprint because of how hard he spanked your ass. The sting that lingers where his palm landed makes your cunt twitch and ache around him, which he considers to be answer enough. “S’what I fuckin’ thought. Atta fuckin’ girl, yes baby.” He groans, quickening the pace ever so slightly and beginning to pull you back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Talkin to an ex, y’must have wanted to get yerself fucked stupid, hm? Is that what you wanted? To be fucked like this?” He’s talking, but you can tell it isn’t for actual answers, no, it’s more to himself. He’s fucked out. So close to the edge.

The thrusting quickens, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "Cum f' me, doll," he commands, his voice dropping an octave, "show me how good I make y' feel. Only me. And then I’m gonna breed yer cute cunt so good." With that, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, aiming for that spot inside you that will unravel you completely.

That’s when you finally let loose, the coil inside your tummy snapping and letting you feel so much pleasure that you’re moving your ass back into him with a force that’s unmatched, just swallowing him deep into you over and over again. And that does it for him— his cum spurting inside you and filling you so good.

He kisses you so hungrily you feel you may just lose your breath entirely and pass out. His hands are holding you in place so you don’t fuck back onto him, because he knows if you did, he’d break you.

Toji leans back, smirking at the sight of you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.

“You done throwing your little tantrum?” you tease, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

He glares at you, though there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re real fuckin’ funny, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.” And deciding to drop the bombshell now, you lean back against the seat and say casually, “By the way, he’s married. To a man. They have two kids.”

Toji freezes, his expression shifting from smug to incredulous in seconds. He blinks like a cartoon character in shock, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“Yup,” you say, your grin widening. “Your big, scary display of dominance? Totally unnecessary.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. The look on his face is so priceless you wish you could brand it into your memory. “Tch. Coulda fuckin’ said somethin’ sooner.”

“And miss all the fun?” You laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Before you can say anything else, he’s on you again, his hands roaming as he mutters, “Gonna make you pay for makin’ me start a scene.”

You laugh, the sound cutting off into a gasp as his hands find their mark. “I made you start a scene? Oh, this I gotta hear.” You say, your voice breathless but still teasing.

“Keep talkin’, doll,” he says, his grin turning wicked. “See where it gets ya.” And then his lips are finding yours again. Just like that, the argument is forgotten, lost in the haze of his possessive, consuming affection.

༒︎ Choso Kamo ༒︎

The mall is crowded, loud with the hum of chattering voices and echoing footsteps. It isn’t your favorite place to hang out, but your best friend had begged you to come along. Somehow, Choso ended up tagging along too, though you weren’t sure why. He wasn’t exactly the mall type, after all— too quiet, too detached from the bustling energy of human spaces like this.

You glance over your shoulder at him now, and there he is, just like you’d expect. He’s trailing a few steps behind, hands shoved into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. His usual stoic mask is firmly in place, making him seem untouchable to anyone passing by. But you know better than that. Beneath the unapproachable aura, Choso is awkward— painfully shy even. He’s still figuring out how to interact with humans, still trying to understand what it means to live in a world like this.

And for some reason, he’s decided you’re his safe space.

You smile to yourself, turning your attention back to the task at hand. Your friend had told you they’d meet you at the bookstore, but they’re running late, so you decide to wander into one of the nearby shops to kill time.

Choso doesn’t follow. You assume he’s probably going to find a dark corner to tuck himself into. 

What you don’t realize is that he does follow. At a distance. He’s used to watching from the sidelines, content to let you move through your world without interference. He doesn’t mind, in fact, he learns from watching how you interact with people, animals, media, and the likes. He learns about the world, but more importantly, he learns about you.

His eyes are on you now, but just seconds later, they shift. There’s a new focus, a new target. Him.

The guy behind the counter at the little boutique you walked into. He’s tall, clean-cut, and obnoxiously friendly. At first, Choso thinks nothing of it. It’s not like he can stop every stranger from talking to you. But as the guy’s gestures become more animated, and his laughter gets a little too familiar, something shifts in Choso’s chest.

He wishes he could hear whatever it is he’s saying that has you so giddy. Wishes he could just— wait, what?

The guy leans forward across the counter, his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, maybe a receipt, maybe a bag, Choso doesn’t care. Because what he does next is what hammers the nail in the coffin. His hand moves to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair, making you laugh. It’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that makes his stomach churn. He knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. He knows. But he can’t help the way his jaw tightens, or the way his fingers curl into fists in his sleeves.

You’re still smiling at the guy. You’re laughing. And he hates it.

His mind spirals before he can stop it. The scene plays over and over in his head, each time twisting into something worse. What if you like this guy? What if you’re into someone who can flirt with ease, someone who doesn’t stumble over their words or overthink every little thing?

What if you don’t want him?

Choso feels a sharp pang in his chest, like something fragile has cracked. He’s been so careful, so guarded with his feelings. He thought he could keep them tucked away, safe from rejection, safe from ruining this. But now? Now he feels them slipping through the cracks, raw and unmanageable.

He looks away, leaning back against the wall outside the store. His heart’s racing, though he doesn’t know why. It’s not like he has any claim over you. You’re your own person, free to talk to whoever you want. He’s just… He’s just the weird half-curse with no idea what his place is in this world who follows you around and doesn’t know how to say what he feels. But what if he did say it?

The thought hits him like a lightning bolt, sudden and electrifying. He’s scared, sure— terrified, actually, but the idea of staying silent is worse. He doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, not without at least trying.

So he waits.

When you finally walk out of the shop, you’re holding a small bag, a content smile on your face. You spot him instantly, standing off to the side like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, sorry that took so long. They had some really cute stuff in there,” you say, holding up the bag as if to explain.

Choso doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to the shop behind you, then back to your face. He doesn’t ask about your purchases. Instead, he asks, “Who was that?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to,” he says, his tone as flat as ever, but there’s something behind it—a tension you can’t quite place.

“Oh, him? That’s just my friend from school. He works here part-time,” you explain, shrugging. “I didn’t even know before now.”

Your words are casual, but they allow Choso a wave of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, replaced almost immediately by a surge of determination. This is his chance. His moment to say what he’s been holding back.

“Can I… talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You tilt your head, curious but not concerned. “Of course. What’s up?”

He gestures for you to follow him, leading you away from the bigger crowd and toward a seating area deeper in the mall that’s less populated. Once you’re there, he turns to face you, his hands still buried in his sleeves.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He’s searching for the right words, but they don’t come. Instead, what comes out is raw and unfiltered.

“I thought you liked him,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, surprised. “What? No, Choso, I told you, he’s just a friend.”

He nods, but his gaze drops to the floor. “I know. It’s just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you ask gently.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes searching yours. “This. Any of this. Being around people. Trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel, how I’m supposed to act.”

You wait, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But with you… it’s different,” he continues, his voice steady despite the nerves etched into his expression. “I don’t feel lost when I’m with you. I feel… human.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you,” he says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I like you. I… I think I’ve liked you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know how to say it— didn’t know what it was. B-But I do, now.”

You stare at him, his confession hanging in the air between you. For a moment, he thinks he’s made a mistake. That he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross.

But then you smile.

Not just any smile— the kind of smile that makes him feel like the world isn’t so complicated after all.

It’s all you can do because his confession doesn’t catch you off guard, not really.

You’ve always known.

“Cho,” you say softly, stepping closer, “I know. I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widen slightly, his lips parting in surprise. “You… knew?”

You nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. You’re not exactly subtle, you know. But I didn’t say anything because I wanted to give you time. Time to figure out what you wanted, how you felt.”

He’s silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified.

“For what it’s worth,” you continue, your voice warm, “I like you, too. Just as you are. You don’t have to change or be anyone else for me, Choso. I like you for you.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s now a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something more raw. His gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and when he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Can I… kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, not because you don’t want him to, but because of the way he asks it, so tentative and earnest.

“Of course,” you say, your tone gentle but steady.

But he hesitates, his eyes darting to the small crowd around you. His voice drops lower, almost shy. “Not here. Can we… go somewhere else?”

You bite back a smile at how endearing he looks, his cheeks tinted pink as he avoids your gaze. “Come on,” you say, nodding toward a quieter hallway where the restrooms are tucked away.

He follows you like a shadow, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he keeps his head down. When you reach the single-occupancy restroom, you push the door open and step inside, holding it for him as he follows. The door clicks shut, and the noise of the mall fades into a distant hum.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension in the small space thick enough to cut with a knife. Choso shifts nervously, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… don’t know how start,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you reply, your smile soft and steady. “Just follow my lead.”

You step closer, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. He freezes for a moment, his dark eyes wide and uncertain, but when you lean in, his lids flutter shut.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips warm and soft against yours. But as you deepen it, something shifts. It’s like a switch flips inside him, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, gripping you like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

He grows bolder with each passing second, his fingers wandering over your arms, your back, your hips, your ass. There’s a desperation in the way he touches you, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all at once. Finally, he pulls you flush against him, his entire arms wrapped around you, one hand gripping your hip and the other on your shoulder.

You can’t help but chuckle against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Easy, Cho,” you murmur, your tone teasing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face flushed as he loosens his grip, but only slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to stop.”

Your smile softens, and you press a light kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to feel nervous.”

You kiss him again, this time letting him lead you. As things heat up, he starts to get carried away again, his hands roaming with a mix of urgency and inexperience. His kisses grow hungrier, his breath ragged as he presses closer, his body practically trembling against yours.

Suddenly his whole body stiffens and a low, unsteady sound akin to a whine escapes him before he pulls back, his face burning with embarrassment. He avoids your gaze, his hands falling away as he stammers, “I— I’m sorry. I dunno what— I didn’t want to stop, I—”

You pull back further to see a dark patch beginning to form even on the purple cloth that rests in front of his robes, realizing what happened. Your perfect Choso just came in his pants from kissing you. You can’t stay silent much longer for fear of making him more embarrassed, so you hush him gently, cupping his face and tilting it so he has no choice but to meet your eyes. “Cho, it’s okay,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is all new for you, and that’s perfectly fine.”

He swallows hard, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment or disappointment. When he finds none, his shoulders relax just a little.

“You mean that?” he asks softly.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Of course, I do. We’ll take things slow, okay? There’s no rush.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his posture easing as he lets out a shaky breath. After a moment, he looks at you again, his expression soft but serious. “Is this… what love is?” He closes his eyes, his lips curving into the faintest smile as he leans into your touch. And in that quiet, stolen moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in its place.

༒︎ Ryomen Sukuna ༒︎

The room is dimly lit, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. You’re lying back on the exam table, your dress pulled up over your growing belly. The monitor hums softly as the sonographer, a man with overly polite eyes and a soothingly gentle touch, adjusts the machine. He explains the process as he goes, his voice calm and warm, clearly trying to put you at ease.

Today is your first 3D ultrasound where you’ll finally get a better view of the life growing inside you. It feels surreal. You’ve had to wait until you’re 32 weeks along to get the best view, so the wait has made you antsy. Will it look like Sukuna? You? Will it smile or suck its thumb? Surely it’s too early for that, right? All of these questions are running through your mind and making your body vibrate with both nervousness and anticipation. It actually does help that the sonographer noticed and is trying to soothe you. 

You glance to the corner where Sukuna stands, his towering figure leaned protectively against the wall. His crimson eyes are locked on the sonographer, sharp and unyielding, like a predator stalking prey. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, claws tapping rhythmically on his forearm, a faint sound that portrays his growing irritation. The air feels heavy with tension; thick enough to cut with a knife. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t contribute to your current nervousness.

The sonographer prepares to squirt gel onto your belly, offering you a soft smile. “This might feel a little cold,” he says, his tone careful. “But it’ll help us get a clear image of the baby.”

You flinch slightly at the cold, and the response is immediate.

“Watch your hands.” Sukuna’s voice slices through the room, low and menacing.

The sonographer freezes, visibly startled. His gaze darts nervously to Sukuna. “I- I’m just preparing her to perform the scan, sir. There’s no need to worry.”

Sukuna scoffs, the sound dark and mocking. “Worry? I’m not worried, human. I’m warning you.” His crimson eyes narrow, radiating danger. “You’re touching my wife who’s carrying the heir to my throne. Be mindful.”

You press your palm to your forehead, exhaling sharply. “Ryo,” you say, your tone firm. “He’s doing his job. Stop scaring him.”

Sukuna’s eyes flick to you, softening slightly, but the fire in them doesn’t fully die. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The sonographer hesitates, visibly uneasy, before resuming his work. The wand glides gently over your belly, and the monitor flickers to life. He points out the baby’s heartbeat, their tiny limbs, and the way they seem to kick at nothing in particular. His voice is soothing as he explains, almost too soothing for Sukuna’s liking.

You can see that the baby has four limbs, thankfully, and it’s got a frown on it’s face, much like its father’s. Until you speak, that is. When you speak, you can see the soft smile that graces your sweet baby’s face, again much like its father’s. You feel tears prick at your eyes finally seeing your baby so clearly.

The sonographer glances at you again, his smile almost reverent. “You’re doing wonderfully. Your baby looks perfect— beautiful, actually.”

That does it.

“Beautiful, huh?” Sukuna mutters, his voice laced with venom. “Bet you say that to every woman you see. Must be part of your script. You’re just so reassuring. Well, my wife doesn’t need that. She has me. Do you think yourself better than I?”

“Ryomen.” Your voice sharpens, and you shoot him a glare that tells him you’re angry. “Enough.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips curling in mild defiance, but he backs off for now. The sonographer continues, though his hands move a little faster this time, clearly eager to finish. Sukuna’s eyes remain locked on him, every small movement scrutinized like a hawk circling its prey.

Finally, the scan concludes. The sonographer hands you a towel to clean off the gel, offering another polite smile. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sukuna doesn’t give him the chance.

“You’re done, right? Get out.”

The man’s eyes widen; he looks to you as if hoping for an intervention. You manage a tight smile. “Thank you for your help. Forgive my unpleasant husband,” you say pointedly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the two of you alone. Sukuna stands there, still bristling, his claws twitching at his sides.

You sigh, wiping the last of the gel from your belly. “You’re ridiculous, Kuna. He wasn’t touching me in any sort of suspicious way.”

“He shouldn’t have been touching you in the first place,” Sukuna snaps, taking a step closer.

“He’s a medical professional, Ryomen. It’s his job.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “He was too close; too soft. Like he thought he could make you feel safer than I do.”

You sit up, tugging your dress down over your belly. “No one is trying to take your place.”

He scoffs, pacing in front of you like a restless beast. “You’re mine. No one else gets to put their hands on you like that.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders as you step into his path. “Would you rather our child go unchecked and we miss something bad? You can’t scare every single person who helps me, Ryomen.”

His eyes narrow, the frustration in them simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re too soft,” he mutters. “Always making excuses for people who don’t deserve it.”

“Soft doesn’t mean weak,” you counter, standing firm. “And I don’t need you turning every little thing into a fight. Trust me, Ryomen. I’m not going anywhere. But… you’re wrong, you know. I do need comfort. You provide safety, yes, but never reassurance. Gentleness. Maybe just… passive acceptance. I’m carrying your child. Of course I’d like to be doted on and treated with care.”

Before he can get upset again, you add, “By you. Only you. So just— please stop it with the anger and hostility. I want my child to know their father is capable of love the way I know he is.”

The tension in his shoulders loosens slightly, though the possessiveness in his gaze remains. He steps closer, towering over you, his hand coming to rest on your belly. His touch is firm but deliberate, a reminder of who you belong to.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “You. The baby. You’re my dearest prizes. No one else gets to act like they know how to care for you better than I do. I study everything, every minute detail about you and what’s to expect with the child. I suppose I’ve been so wound up with preparing myself and protecting you that I’ve gotten more hostile than usual. I… can work on it.”

You place your hand over his, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Get back on the exam bed.”

“What? Why? He’s finish—” he interrupts you by walking you backwards until your ass hits the edge, caging you in.

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you look carrying my heir and standing up to even me. And I’d like to show you just how much I love it.” He says, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck, just below your jawline. As expected, you tilt your head up for a kiss and he indulges you, kissing you so hungrily and lifting you onto the bed.

His hands wander all over your body, his touch carrying a gentleness you’re not used to. Goosebumps raise on the whole of your body in response and you’re leaning forward into the kiss, losing yourself in it. You don’t even realize he’s hiked your dress up and removed your panties until the cold hits your slick-sheened pussy.

“Ryō—”

“I know, brat, I know.” He says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he parts from your lips to kiss along your jaw. “Come to the edge f’me.”

You do exactly that as he undoes his robes to reveal his second set of arms… and his second mouth. God, you love how freaky this man is. His second set of arms grip the globes of your ass to hold you steady as he pulls you flush against his lower mouth, his fat tongue just smearing your cunt with your slick and his saliva. 

You’ve never cared to admit that this mouth of his has always been your favorite. It’s so big that it offers more coverage, more pressure, and gets so much dee—

“Biiiiig stretch.” Sukuna warns you before he plunges his second tongue into your hole, lingering at that first ring of resistance to deliver a few shallow, but mind numbingly pleasurable thrusts before he pushes the rest of the way in; as much as he can, that is.

He uses the moment your pretty little mouth releases an ah! to kiss you again, his first set of hands slipping up your dress to find your tits. If there’s anything he’d put on top of the list of things he loves about your changing body, it’s this. How fucking thick your ass has become and undeniably huge your tits have grown. Just swelling and preparing to fill with milk to sustain his heir.

He pinches your sensitive nipples between his large fingers, making you moan into the kiss, relaxing your cunt around his tongue between you. Suddenly, you’re lifted just slightly above the table, his other hands beginning to fuck you on his tongue, his saliva and your slick just drip, drip, dripping onto the bed and floor beneath you.

“So greedy. Pussy’s always so fucking greedy…” he groans, resting his forehead against yours so you both can watch as your pussy bulges from swallowing his tongue so eagerly. It’s such a lewd sight, one you’ve undeniably grown addicted to in your time together.

Your moans mingle together and it’s then you realize that he’s now using just one of his hands to fuck you on his tongue. His other is wrapped around both of his cocks and pumping them together, ribbons of pre falling down his lengths and being smeared by his movements. You’re not even slightly ashamed of the way you salivate seeing him getting off while eating your pussy and watching himself do it. It’s so fucking filthy that you can’t help but—

“Gonna cum f’me, aren’t you? Mmmmmhm, can tell by how she’s flutterin’ around my tongue. My needy fucking wife.” He smirks, pulling you flush to him so that the widest part of his tongue rubs against your clit while he switches it up and fucks his tongue into you, faster this time.

“O-Ohmyfuckinggod!” The words come out strung together, the added attention on your clit making you see stars, your breath quickening, heart beginning to race. You lean back onto the bed using your hands to prop you up so you can get a better view.

“So nasty, beautiful.” A chuckle falls from his lips and you can’t even respond before his upper hands are just engulfing your tits and kneading, easing the pain of the swelling and pleasing you at the same time.

Then, something happens. Milk begins to drip from your right nipple and it has you both stopping in your tracks. You’d heard of the low possibility that milk can come before you give birth, but you never considered it’d happen to you. A blush of embarrassment creeps on your face and you’re about to apologize when you hear Sukuna groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth immediately latches onto your tit and he just sucks.

“S-Sukuna, fuck!” You whine, his lower tongue beginning to work your quivering pussy again, bringing you right to the edge of pleasure.

He releases your tit with a pop! and nips it gently. “Mine. Mine, mine, all fuckin’ mine, such a good Queen providing for my heir early. Gonna be such a good momma.” He praises you before beginning to suck the lactating nipple again, making you come undone on his tongue, your gooey insides clenching around his tongue, trying to stop him with how tight you are, but he’s too strong, fucking his tongue into you through your orgasm to swallow up every last bit of cum you have to offer him.

It’s not until you’re whining and your legs are limp, weak pushes against his shoulders making him release your tit and slip his tongue from your slobbering hole. He runs the tip of his tongue against your oversensitive clit just a few times before you feel him kiss your puffy folds, making your body lurch.

You watch breathlessly as he tries to suck up the milk from your poor abused nipple again, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging his face up to yours. “Y’know, you’re mine too. Forever. Don’t you forget that.” You smirk.

Something flickers in his eyes— pride, possessiveness, and a touch of vulnerability he’d never admit to. “Damn right I’m yours,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “But don’t think that means I’m gonna get soft on people.”

You lean into his hand as he caresses your cheek, a small smile playing at your lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. His voice drops to a rumble. “Carrying my child. Still standing by me. So brave.”

“Someone has to keep you in check,” you tease, though your voice softens with affection.

He lets out a low chuckle, pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you’re brave enough to take my cocks after cumming like such a good brat f’me.” 

Your eyes widen, feeble hands trying to push him away by his chest, “Kuna! We have to leave, they’re probably traumatized!” You tell him in a hushed tone, suddenly all too aware that you’re in a doctor’s office for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, well. They can afford the therapy.” He gives you a shit eating grin while thumbing open your cunt. “Open up real wide f’me, baby.”

And as you brace yourself, you remind yourself to make apology rounds to the staff whenever your husband is through with you.

༒︎ Nanami Kento ༒︎

Nanami Kento is tired. Not just the kind of tired you feel after a long day, though God knows his body aches from another grueling shift of paperwork and exorcisms. No, it’s deeper than that. A bone-deep fatigue that comes from too many hours spent away from the one person he’d rather be with. You.

He steps through the door, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other. The house is warm and smells faintly like the lavender candle you always light in the evenings. It feels like home, but he quickly notices something’s off.

Your voice carries down the hall, light and warm, tinged with laughter. It’s a sound that usually has his shoulders relaxing, but tonight, there’s an edge of tension beneath it that prickles at him. He sets his things down quietly, toeing off his shoes, and listens.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of lonely lately,” you say, and he freezes in place, his hand hovering above the coat rack. “I mean, I get it. Nanamin works so hard and I love him for it, but… I don’t know. I just miss him. I feel like I barely see him anymore.”

His chest tightens. You’re talking about him. He takes a slow, measured breath and steps closer, rounding the corner silently.

“Thank you for keeping me sane, though. Honestly, if I didn’t have someone to talk to, I’d probably be climbing the walls by now.” There’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line. Gojo’s laugh. The realization is instant and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Gojo. Of course, it’s Gojo. His coworker, the occasional thorn in the side, the most insufferable man he knows. And apparently the one you’ve been leaning on while he’s been too busy drowning in work.

Kento feels his jaw tighten, his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He knows— logically, rationally— that there’s nothing going on between you and Gojo. You’d never betray him like that and Gojo, for all his teasing, would never cross that line. But the knot of jealousy twisting in his chest doesn’t care about logic.

You must have heard him shift uncomfortably because you glance over your shoulder, startled. Your expression softens when you see him and you give him a small, almost sheepish smile. “Hey, Kento just got home,” you say into the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Nanami doesn’t miss the way Gojo’s laugh sounds out one last time before you hang up. He doesn’t say anything as you set your phone on the counter, but his silence is heavy. You know him well enough to recognize it immediately.

“Ken,” you say softly, stepping toward him. “Long day?”

He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze steady on you. It’s not cold, but there’s something simmering behind it; something that makes you hesitate. “Gojo?” he asks finally, his voice calm but with an edge you can’t ignore.

You blink, caught off guard by his demeanor. “Yeah. He was just checking in. He knows I’ve been home alone a lot lately.”

“Does he?” His tone is even, but the sharpness is undeniable.

You frown, crossing your arms. “Nanami, it’s not like that. He’s a friend. Our friend. You know that.”

“I do.” And he does. He knows it’s innocent. But that doesn’t make it easier to hear you laughing and confiding in someone else while he’s been too busy to do the same.

“Ken.” Your voice softens and you reach for him, your hand brushing his arm. “Please don’t do this. Don’t beat yourself up or think anything crazy. I’m not mad at you for working so much. I know why you do it. I know it’s for us. But… it’s hard sometimes. That’s all I meant.”

“I hate that you feel like this,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That you have to go to someone else when I should be here.”

You step closer, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You’re here now,” you murmur, trying to pull him out of his head. “That’s what matters. That you always come back to me as soon as you can.”

He looks at you, something dark and conflicted in his eyes. “Is it enough?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Am I enough? Or would you rather have a husband who has more time for you?”

Your heart breaks at the vulnerability in his voice. “Kenny,” you say firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly and his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Desperate. As if he’s trying to make up for all the time he’s spent away from you in one moment.

You gasp against his mouth and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down to the globes of your ass and gripping tightly. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll change for you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “No more late nights. No more overtime. I’ll cut my hours. Whatever it takes to be here with you.”

“Ken, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” His hands slide under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle as he lifts it over your head and lets it fall to the floor. “I won’t let you feel like you’re second to anything. Ever again. You’re too precious to me. My world. My heart. My wife.”

His lips find your neck, trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone. He moves with a purpose, his hands exploring your skin as if to reacquaint himself with every inch of you. It’s more than physical— it’s a promise.

You tug at his tie, fumbling with the knot until he helps you pull it free and rips off his button-down. Then his hands are on you again, guiding you toward the bedroom.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding but with an undercurrent of tenderness that makes your pulse race.

You obey, sinking onto the bed as he leans over you, his lips finding yours again. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his movements careful but insistent. Every kiss, every caress feels like an apology and a vow wrapped into one.

He wraps a hang around your throat, squeezing for one fleeting moment before trailing it down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, over your pubic bone, and finally under your nightgown to meet your slick riddled cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses, forehead resting against yours while he catches his breath, his fingers slipping back and forth between your folds, teasing at your clit in passes. “My love… I don’t want to waste any time, I just need t’feel you. Normally I’d ea—”

“I know, handsome, s’okay, I’m ready, I can take it.” You reassure him, knowing he was going to apologize for not properly warming you up.

You see, Nanami has always been one for foreplay. He could slurp up your saccharine slick for hours upon hours if you let him, but tonight? Tonight, he just wants to be one with you.

His hand finds one of yours and he intertwines your fingers, his other hand working to free his cock from the suffocating confines of his pants. When it springs free, it’s just throbbing an angry pink, beads of pre forming at the tip now that his dress pants aren't there to absorb them.

He aligns himself with your painfully empty hole, pushing past that first little ring of resistance with a long groan. The grip he has on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he feeds you inch after mind numbing inch of his cock until his tip’s kissing your cervix. But you know his body well enough to know that isn’t it. And so you brace yourself for him to push in to the hilt, his mushroom tip ever so slightly bullying open your cervix as he does so, making you yelp out in both pleasure and pain.

His lips swallow your whines and whimpers, he’s determined to take everything you have to offer and give you more than what he has. The world, if you asked. His free hand finds purchase on your hip and he holds you steady as he starts to roll his hips into yours, passionately. Roughly. Like he’s trying to stuff you full of all of the love he has for you.

You moan out, reaching your own free hand up to cup his cheek, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, effectively telling him you need more. With every thrust after, you can’t help but gasp. You feel him in your lungs stealing every bit of breath you have, reddened leaking tip repeatedly hitting that bullseye that makes your mind go stupid.

“K-Ken, feels s’good! Hah!” You whine out, back arching up and pressing you flush to him. He moves his hand from your hip to wrap his arm around you, effectively holding your bottom half in the air to get deeper inside of you.

“Mine. My wife. My wife, my love, my beautiful, m-my heart.” He’s babbling, burying his head into your neck and pressing hot, wet, open mouthed kisses to it. You feel him slip his hand from yours and instead, he has the top of your head in the palm of his hand, using it to keep you still, but also to anchor himself so he doesn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mom. Wh—hah, what kind of husband have I been by not trying to give you my babies? We can start now. After I cum riiiiight here.” He babbles, his other hand moving for only a second to press down where your stomach bulges with his thrusts.

And the look in his eyes tells you this is a promise, not just something he’s saying while fucking you. Just like the perfect little thing you are, you cum for him right then, dragging a long and frustrated groan from him.

“Pussy’s always so good for me. Milking me so good, my love…” he shudders as you cum on his throbbing length.

“Ken, f—fuh— fuck! Cum in me! Please, baby, cum in me!” You beg, making him chuckle.

“Oh? You think I’m done? No, I have to make up for lost time. Evert second I missed, I’ll make up for with an equal amount of time spent buried in this beautiful cunt of yours. Understood?”

And oh are you so incredibly fucked.

[mangionebabymama]

Red-Handed — Luigi Mangione

Summary: When Luigi, this super sweet and also really hot-looking computer science major guy that you’ve become friends with while attending UPenn, calls you before the upcoming homecoming game because he has a favor to ask. It’s kind of important.

Word Count: 5.9k (forgive me)

Warnings: Sexual tension through the roof!

A/N: As promised, my gift to you all for reaching 200 followers—and somehow, we’re now at 300-something and counting. My first ever official piece of writing on here, based on this little thought I had. Any feedback is appreciated! I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the space to be here.

The phone vibrated in your hand, illuminating the screen with Luigi’s name. You paused for a moment, captivated by his contact photo—a candid, goofy selfie of him mid-laugh, dark curls playfully tumbling into his eyes. With a slight breath, you swiped across to answer, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light.

“Hey, uh… I need a favor.” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, but beneath it lay an unmistakable urgency that sent a flutter of unease through your stomach. 

“What kind of favor?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“Could you come by my dorm? Like… right now? It’s kinda important.” 

You glanced at the clock on your wall. It was late morning, not far from a quarter until noon, giving you just enough time to come back and get ready before the upcoming football homecoming game against Brown, which you planned to attend with Luigi, which was going to kick off at one. “Sure,” you replied, forcing a casualness into your voice despite the way your pulse quickened. “I’ll be there in five.”

Luigi. What a name that was, and what a young man you had recently become acquainted with and knew quite well these past two months while starting your first-ever semester of college at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. He was a first-year student like you, who you happened to meet on the first day of school, stuck in the midst of finding the room number of your first class that afternoon, as he was finding himself doing the same. Oddly enough, your scheduled classes began at the same time, but they were across the hall from each other, which led the two of you to help one another look for the right place for your class location. Of course, that one chance meeting turned into a conversation; you and him introduced yourselves. Without one another, you wouldn’t have arrived on time for the first official day of your classes—the most stereotypical, unforgivably cringeworthy, yet frightening rookie mistake that any freshman could make on the first day, no less, at an Ivy League—and since then, your beginning college career hasn’t been the same with this newfound friendship with him.

He majored in Computer and Information Science, with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence, and even admitted to you that he possibly thought about adding a minor in Math. Luigi was undeniably, unquestionably brilliant, without a doubt. By sharing conversations with him, you learned that he was born and raised in a suburb of Baltimore, attended an all-boys school where he was the valedictorian of his graduating class, and decided to learn how to code simply because he loved playing independent games and wanted to create his own. Jokingly considering, he seemed like any other nerd that you would come across at an Ivy League, one who was enthusiastic about computers and would remind you of that about themselves every five seconds.  

Luigi was different, though. Out of all of the acquaintances you come to know and friends you made and connected with so far, at Penn, he was just… unforgettably special. Luigi was one of the sweetest people you had ever met and, in all likelihood, would do anything for you at any given time of the day, whatever might bring him your way, because his compassion for people was like no other. He cared about you; he cared for you. It looked as though one could take a step further and imagine him as that dream guy you find by chance once or twice in your lifetime, that one that exclusively seems too good to be true, even if he only lives in the thick of your dreams. He was personable, relatable, and genuine—despite his larger-than-life personality, you never forced yourself to belittle or magnify your authenticity in front of him. He liked you, for you, and you liked him, one and the same. 

It also doesn’t help when he’s incredibly, extremely good-looking, in the face of it all and your friendship. He was beautiful, to say the least. 

When you knocked on his door, it swung open almost instantaneously, revealing him in all his boyish glory—shirtless, his short, thick brown curls disheveled and tousled as if he had just woken up, standing in an old pair of basketball shorts. He held a big plastic bottle of bright red paint in one hand, and for a split second, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Hi,” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face, his bent arm leaning against the doorway, that charmingly wicked trademark of a smile of his always managing to make your heart flutter.

“Hi,” you managed to reply, your gaze momentarily drifting down his torso before snapping back to meet his eyes. It wasn’t that you struggled to keep your eyes off of his V-line, you know, that visible, muscular line prominently at the base of his abdomen; it was that his V-line that couldn’t keep its eyes off of you—that is, if it was possible that the chiseled intersection of two of his abdominal muscles could have any. Why did he have to look so good? His chest was lean yet broad and sculpted, skin smooth and inviting, each contour begging for touch. And those arms—strong enough to embrace you tightly, yet soft enough, lithe and limber- make you wish you could linger in his warmth forever.

“So…” he said, lifting the paint bottle and giving it a gentle shake. The slosh of the liquid inside echoed in the small space. “I need some help.”

“With… painting yourself red?” you asked, half-teasing yet thoroughly intrigued. 

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy curls, adding to the casual charm he exuded. “Yeah. It’s for the game, and I’m part of the stunt in the student section where we’re supposed to be, like, human canvases or something. Some of the guys and I decided that we’re all gonna spell out Penn on our chests, and I’m the designated one with the letter P. Everyone else bailed last minute, so…” He trailed off, shrugging as if the situation were nothing to worry about.

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief crossing your face. “And you thought of me because…?” 

“Because you’re creative.” He paused, a flicker of something deeper flashing in his gaze as he locked onto yours. “And patient. And, uh…” The room seemed to shrink around you, his eyes holding a warmth that made your heart race. “I trust you.”

The way he said those words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving your throat dry and your chest tight, as if he was confessing something deeper, unspoken. 

“Okay,” you replied, stepping into the room, the soft click of the door echoing in the still air. “But if I get paint on my clothes, you’re buying me new ones and food at the next football game.” 

A slow grin spread across his face, illuminating his features. He handed you the paint bottle, its synthetic coolness contrasting with the warmth of his palm, and a brush that felt solid in your fingers. “Deal,” he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

For a moment, you found yourself transfixed, taking in the details of him standing there. Up close, the faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin beneath the soft light of the fluorescent ceiling, and you could see the subtle movements of his well-defined muscles as he shifted, not to mention a couple more beauty marks stippled across the portrait of his chest. The tension in the air was palpable, your fingers twitching lightly around the brush handle.

“So, uh… how do you want to do this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, the boggling in your mind, and the rushing in your veins.

“However you want,” he replied, leaning casually against the edge of his desk, his tone playful yet inviting. “Just… cover me. Slather it all over my body. Everywhere.” 

His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken promise, setting the stage for whatever came next.

Everywhere.

Your heart raced as you dipped the brush into the vibrant paint, swirling it around until the bristles were thoroughly saturated with color. Stepping closer, you could feel the air between you thrum with electricity, thick with unspoken tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

As the brush first glided across his chest, he inhaled sharply, the sound betraying a mixture of surprise and anticipation. You glanced up to catch his expression, noting how his jaw tightened with each smearing stroke.

“Cold?” you asked, attempting to lighten the charged atmosphere, your voice soft and teasing.

“A little,” he confessed, his tone rough and edged with breathlessness. “But… keep going.”

Encouraged, you continued, dragging the brush slowly across his collarbone as the bristles danced against his skin before trailing down the center of his chest. The paint spread in thick, expressive streaks, each line forming a vivid contrast against his skin as though it were a second layer of himself. With every deliberate stroke, you could see his body respond; his breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in sync with your movements.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmured, his eyes growing heavy-lidded, watching you intently as if you were creating a masterpiece just for him.

“Thanks,” you said, your own voice barely above a whisper. You circled the brush around one of his nipples, watching as it hardened under the chill of the paint. His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might say something—maybe about how you made his nipple so erect and taut—but he stayed silent, his gaze locked on yours.

Your hands trembled slightly as you moved lower, painting over his abs. His stomach tensed at the first touch, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Ticklish?”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning despite himself.

You kept going, alternating between broad strokes and careful detailing. By the time you reached his hips, the tension in the room was unbearable. He hadn’t moved an inch, but you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint citrus scent of his cologne and the male pheromones mixed with the sharp tang of paint.

“Turn around,” you said softly.

He obeyed without hesitation, presenting his back to you. The muscles rippled beneath his skin as he shifted, and you couldn’t resist tracing the curve of his spine with the tip of the brush. He shuddered, his shoulders stiffening.

“Sorry,” you murmured, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice thick. “It feels… nice. It’s kinda relaxing.”

You painted his shoulders next, working your way down to the small of his back. When your brush grazed the waistband of his shorts, he inhaled sharply, his hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“Almost done,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Your free hand hovered over his hip, wanting to steady yourself but unsure if you should touch him. Before you could decide, he turned suddenly, catching your wrist, minor, in his rather large grasp.

“Wait,” he said, his grip firm but not unkind.

You froze, staring up at him. His eyes were dark, intense, searching yours for something.

“Is this… weird for you?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

“Weird?” you echoed, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Yeah. Like… inappropriate or whatever.”

You swallowed hard. “No. It’s… fine.”

He didn’t let go of your wrist, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Good. Because I don’t want to stop.”

Neither did you.

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, his palm, big and warm, against your skin. The paintbrush slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor, but neither of you noticed.

“Luigi…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he silenced you with a kiss that surprised you with its intensity. It was soft at first, a gentle brush of his lips against yours, tentative as if he were gauging your reaction, testing the waters of uncharted territory. But as you leaned into him, a rush of warmth blossomed in your chest, his restraint shattered like glass.

Luigi pulled you closer, his hands moving with confidence, sending shivers down your spine. One hand slipped around your waist, firm yet tender, while the other found its way into your hair, fingers weaving through the strands as though anchoring you to him. His mouth opened against yours, coaxing you deeper into the kiss and inviting you to explore the depths of this newfound passion. You couldn’t help but melt against him, surrendering to the moment, every nervous thought slipping away.

His taste was intoxicating, a perfect blend of mint and rich chocolate, with an underlying hint of something uniquely him—a flavor that would linger in your memory long after this moment. You craved more, an insatiable need building within you; you felt as if you could lose yourself in this kiss, in this connection, wanting to delve even deeper into the abyss of desire that had suddenly enveloped you both. The paint on his chest smeared against your shirt as he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning yours. His lips left yours to trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot.

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his curls. “Don’t.”

​​The moment his lips left your neck, a rush of boldness surged through you. His chest was still slick with paint, red streaks sliding down his abdomen as he pulled back slightly, his dark curls damp with sweat, and his breath ragged. You didn’t hesitate.

With a sudden push, you reversed your position, guiding Luigi backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of his twin bed. He laughed, surprised, his lopsided grin spreading wide as he fell onto the mattress, the springs creaking softly beneath him. God, he looked good like this—sprawled out, his skin glistening with streaks of crimson, his eyes dark with desire and amusement, his body raging with excitement.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him without breaking eye contact. His hands immediately went to your hips, fingers digging lightly into the fabric of your jeans, but you shook your head, placing your hands over his and guiding them up to rest on the pillow above his head. “Stay,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. His grin softened into something more heated, his lips parting slightly as he obeyed.

Your fingers glided along his arms, leaving delicate trails of vivid red paint on his otherwise smooth skin. A shiver coursed through his body at your touch, and you could see him struggle to catch his breath as you leaned closer, your lips just a whisper away from his ear. “You’re such a mess,” you murmured, the warmth of your breath sending a thrill through him. “Let me fix that.”

You reached for the brush you had set aside earlier, dipping it into the glossy bottle of paint resting beside the bed. The soft bristles glided over his skin as you began to paint, tracing the contours of his collarbone and following the natural line down to the center of his chest. He inhaled sharply, muscles tightening under your careful strokes, the heat of your fingers igniting tension between you. “Are you trying to torture me?” he teased, though the strain in his voice betrayed the pleasure he was losing himself in.

“Maybe,” you said, swirling the brush in slow, sickening circles over his stomach. The paint caught the light, wet and vivid against his skin, and you couldn’t resist leaning down to blow gently on it, watching how his abdominal muscles tightened, just about seizing in response. His hands twitched as if they wanted to move, but he kept them where you’d placed them, his trust in you evident in how he stayed perfectly still.

You set the brush aside, opting instead to use your hands. The cool paint squelched between your fingers as you smoothed it over his shoulders and arms. His biceps flexed under your palms, and you could feel the tension coiled in his body, the way he held himself back. It only made you want to push him further and subdue him with your power.

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin mingling with the sharp tang of the paint. His pulse raced beneath your mouth, and you smiled against him, dragging your lips lower, following the trail of red you’d applied paint to. Your hands slid up his chest, the paint making your movements slick and deliberate, and when your thumb brushed over one of his nipples, he let out a quiet groan.

“You’re killing me,” Luigi muttered, his voice rough.

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your lips curving into a smirk. “Good.” Reaching for the bottle of paint again, you dipped two fingers into the thick liquid, letting it drip slowly down his sternum. He watched, spellbound and stunned, as you followed the droplets with your tongue. The taste was strange but not unpleasant, and the sensation was clearly driving him crazy.

His hips bucked slightly beneath you, and you felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against you through his shorts. A thrill shot through you at the realization, but you weren’t ready to give him what he wanted just yet. Instead, you sat back, admiring your work—his chest and torso now coated in red, the paint clinging to every ridge and dip of muscle. Your hands rested on his thighs, shifting closer so you could lean over him, your faces inches apart.

“How’s that for school spirit?” you asked, your tone teasing but your eyes serious as they searched his.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Perfect,” he said, his hands moving from the pillow to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, and you realized too late that the paint had transferred to your skin. “But I think you missed a spot.”

Before you could react, he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours as he kissed you deeply. The paint on his chest pressed against your shirt, soaking through the fabric and cooling against your skin. His hands roamed over your body, leaving streaks of red wherever they touched, and when he pulled back, his eyes were wild with hunger.

“Now,” he said, his voice a low growl, “it’s my turn.” He reached for the brush, dipping it into the pot with deliberate slowness before trailing it down the side of your neck. The bristles tickled, the paint cool and wet, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through you.

“Lu,” you breathed, unable to let out the remaining syllables of his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued to paint you, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he worked, his breath hot and uneven. “Trust me.”

And you did.

Luigi’s brush paused mid-stroke, hovering just above the dip of your collarbone. His eyes met yours, dark and searching, as if he was trying to read the unspoken words lingering between you. The air between you felt charged, heavy with something neither of you had dared name—until now.

“I think…” he started, his voice low and hesitant. The playful edge from before was replaced with something more profound, deeper, and more vulnerable. His fingers tightened slightly around the brush, the paint dripping onto his hand. “I think I’ve been waiting for this. For you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking into your skin like the red paint he’d been so carefully applying. You could feel the warmth of his body, the way his chest rose and fell in time with yours. His free hand reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“Open your mouth,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. You hesitated for a split second, but the intensity in his eyes made it impossible to refuse. Slowly, you parted your lips, and he dipped the brush into the paint again, swirling it gently across the curve of your bottom lip.

The sensation was remarkable, both cool and electric. The bristles teasing your sensitive skin as he worked with precision made your stomach flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours as he focused on the task, his face just inches from yours.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he pulled the brush away, leaving your lips a deep, bold, vivid red. His eyes lingered on them for a moment, his gaze almost reverent, before he finally looked up at you again.

And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, desperate, and full of all the things he hadn’t said yet. His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue swept across your painted lips, the taste of the paint mixing with the heat of his kiss.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, the paint on your fingers smearing against his skin as you gripped him tightly. His other hand trailed down your side, leaving a streak of red in its wake, before settling on your hip, pulling you even closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless. Your lips were still tingling, red hot, and burning like fire from the intensity of the kiss. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I just… I didn’t know how to tell you... how to ask for this. For you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the vulnerability in his voice making something inside you ache. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

“Luigi…” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“Don’t,” he said softly, his eyes opening to meet yours. “Don’t say anything. Just… let me have this. Let me have you. Even if it’s just for now.”

There was a plea in his voice, a fear of rejection that made your chest tighten. You could discern how he was holding his breath, waiting for your response; his body tensed so that he was ready to pull away if you hesitated.

But you didn’t hesitate.

Instead, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could. His breath hitched, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

The paint between you became a blur, streaks of red mixing with the heat of your movements as you lost yourselves in each other. His fingers trailed down your back, leaving a trail of paint that felt like fire against your skin. You could feel his trembling, the intensity of his emotions spilling over with every touch, every kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, his voice breaking with emotion. “I don’t think you even realize it.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The room around you faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you, the sound of your breathing, and the feel of his body pressed against yours.

He broke the kiss again, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he looked at you, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me you want this,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you want me.”

The vulnerability in his voice tore at something inside you, and you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you,” you longed for him, your voice steady despite the thunderstorm of emotions, a natural disaster of your own aches and needs gyrating inside you. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both sweet and possessive. “Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

His hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your skin as he hesitated for the present. His eyes discovered yours in a silent question. You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he slowly lifted the fabric of your top over your head. His eyes traveled over your figure with a hunger that made your heart race.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands trailing up your sides, leaving streaks of red paint in their wake. “So fucking perfect.”

You reached for him, your fingers brushing against the paint on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart racing beneath your touch. “So are you,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of emotion.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the button of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with need. “I don’t want to rush you. I just… I need you.”

You nodded, your hands sliding into his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss, your lips moving against his in a way that left no room for doubt. “I need you too,” you whispered against his lips. “More than anything.”

His fingers fumbled with the button, and his movements were hurried but gentle as he pushed your pants down your hips, his hands shaking slightly as he touched you. You could feel how he was holding back and moving heaven and earth to keep himself in control, having the decently respectable audacity for a hot-blooded young man, but the look in his eyes told you he was close to losing it.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Please.”

That was all it took. Luigi let out a low groan, his hands tightening around your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was nothing short of desperate. The world around you disappeared, leaving nothing but the two of you, the panting of your inhales and exhales, and the feel of his body pressed against yours.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with need as he looked at you, his hands trembling slightly as he touched you. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t think I ever will.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you looked into his eyes. “I’m yours,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “All of me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening around your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both sweet and possessive. “And I’m yours,” he murmured against your lips. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

The room was a blur of red and heat, the air thick with the scent of paint and citrus, mingling with the sound of your racing hearts. Luigi’s hands were still on your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin as if he couldn’t bear to let go. His lips were still against yours, but the urgency had softened, replaced by a lingering need that neither of you seemed ready to break.

But reality was creeping in, insistent and unyielding—the game. The football game was starting soon, and you both knew it. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your breath mingling with his as you spoke, your voice trembling slightly. “Luigi… the game.”

He groaned, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he could allow the universe and everything consisting of it to stop spinning for just a little longer. “I know,” he whispered, his voice strained. “I know, but…”

His hands glided up your sides, leaving vivid streaks of crimson paint in their wake. Each touch ignited a shiver that danced along your skin. The sensation was electric, a pulse of warmth contrasting against the coolness of the paint, flooding your senses with intensity. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours once more, soft and filled with yearning. “Please.”

You yearned to say yes, every fiber of your humane being just aching to submit to the moment. Yet the rational part of your mind screamed in protest, a reminder of the ticking clock, of the urgency for him to be ready and for you to be too. With a soft sigh, your fingers slid up his chest, the paint still slightly tacky under your touch, a reminder of the chaos of creativity that surrounded you both. “We have to finish painting you,” you whispered, your voice barely cutting through the charged air, hushed but firm. “And we have to clean up.”

He let out a low, frustrated growl, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped back slightly, his hands reluctantly leaving your body as he reached for the brush again. Though dark and intense, his eyes never left yours, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip.

You took the brush from him, your fingers brushing against his in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. You could feel the tension between you, thick and unrelenting, but you forced yourself to focus. Get this done. Get him ready.

You dipped the brush into the paint, the bright red liquid glistening in the dim light of the room. You started on his chest, sweeping the brush over his skin in long, even strokes. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. You tried to keep your movements brisk and efficient, but it was hard when he stood so close, his breath hitching every time the brush touched his skin.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. His hands were clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms tensing as he fought the urge to reach for you.

“I’m trying to finish,” you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound firm. You moved the brush lower, painting over his abs, the muscles twitching under your touch. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and it was intoxicating.

His breath hitched again, and you saw his eyes dark with need. “You’re not making this easy,” he said, his voice rough.

“Neither are you,” you shot back, your voice shaky. You struggled to focus, and your desire made it hard to think straight. You just wanted to drop the brush and kiss him again, to feel his hands on your body, to lose yourself in him completely.

But you couldn’t. You had to finish, and you still had to return home to get yourself ready. 

You moved the brush lower still, painting over his hips. The muscles in his thighs tensed as he fought to stay still. You could see the effort it was taking him: his jaw clenched, his hands trembling at his sides.

“Almost done,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You were both on edge, the tension between you so thick it was almost suffocating.

“Good,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

You could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you finished painting him, the brush moving slower than it should have as you tried to prolong the moment. But eventually, it was done. You stepped back slightly, your eyes scanning his body to ensure you hadn’t missed any spots.

“You’re all done,” you said, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound calm.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands finally moving, reaching for you. “Now you,” he said, his voice rough with need.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the brush from your hand, dipping it into the paint before turning it on you. He started on your chest, the brush gliding over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. You gasped at the sensation, the paint's coolness contrasting with his touch's heat.

“Lui…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he continued painting you. His touch was gentle but firm, the brush moving over your skin in a way that made your whole body tremble.

You could feel your resolve crumbling. The need to touch and feel him against you overwhelmed you. You reached for him, your fingers brushing against his chest, the paint still slightly tacky under your touch.

He let out a low groan, his hands tightening on the brush as he fought to stay in control. “You’re making this really hard,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a sweet, desperate kiss.

He let out a low growl, his hands dropping the brush as he pulled you closer, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was nothing short of primal. The world around you disappeared, leaving nothing but the two of you, the sound of your breathing, and the feel of his body pressed against yours.

“We’re going to be so late,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound firm.

“I don’t care,” he replied, his voice rough with need. His hands were everywhere, touching you, caressing you, leaving streaks of red paint in their wake.

You could feel yourself giving in, your body responding to his touch in ways that made it hard to think and breathe. “Lu…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His lips brushed against yours again, soft and pleading. “Just a little longer,” he murmured, his voice filled with need. “Please.”

You hesitated, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to stop, pull away, and get ready for the game. But the look in his eyes, the way his hands were trembling as he touched you, the way his body was pressed against yours… it was too much.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gave in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was nothing short of desperate.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that sent sparks of heat through your body. You could feel the paint smearing between you, but you didn’t care. 

All you cared about was him, how he felt against you, and how he made you think.

If you were caught red-handed, at this instant, for what you and he brought about, so be it.

After all, it can’t be considered wrong if it feels right.

[jessiexflem]

– photograph | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

word count: 2.9K

“Slow down!” you pout, your voice drowned out by the Christmas music playing over the speaker. 

Your older sister quickly took off on the ice, leaving you by yourself as you held onto the gate of the rink. The sting of the London winter hits your face, giving your cheeks a rosy blush. Your parents had dropped you off at the local outdoor rink, under the promise from your sister that she would keep an eye on you. Unlike most Canadians, skating did not come the most naturally to you, and you spent most of your time glued to the wall unless your mom was there to hold your hand.

“Excuse me?” a shorter girl, clad in an oversized hockey jersey, peers at you from under her beanie, “Do you need help?”

You nod warily, “I’m stuck.”

The girl holds out a gloved hand, giving you a smile, her two front teeth missing. “I can help you! I’m Jessie.”

“I’m Y/N,” you take her hand, wobbling slightly as you let go of the wall, “I’m scared of falling.”

“I won’t let you fall, I’ve gotten good at this,” the girl reassures, “How old are you, Y/N? I’m five.”

Jessie holds up her fingers on her other hand, gliding the two of you around the rink.

“Me too, but I’m about to turn six,” you say matter-of-factly, “Do you want to come to my birthday party? My mom bought ZooPals for it.”

“I have to ask my mom,” she shrugs, “Can I have the duck one?”

You nod, catching a glimpse of her black skates, “Your skates look funny.”

“Nuh uh,” Jessie frowns, “Yours look funny!”

“They’re figure skates,” you huff, “I’m going to be a figure skater just like my big sister!”

“Mine are hockey skates, and I’m going to be a famous hockey player when I grow up. You can come to my games.”

“I’ll go to your games if you come to my birthday party,” you bargain, holding out your pinky, “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Jessie locks her pinky with yours.

--------------------------------------

“Jessie, stop!” you hide your mouth with your hand, “I told you not to look!”

“It can’t be that bad!” 

You frown, wincing at the pain shooting through your gums. After months of attempting to convince your parents that your teeth were fine, you were dragged to the orthodontist’s office that morning, leaving with a full set of braces. Every word, every facial expression, everything made your mouth hurt.

“Speak for yourself, you’re not the one who has to have them!” you roll your eyes, “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” Jessie sighs. 

“But you still choose to be friends with me,” you giggle, the blue bands on your braces visible.

“You actually got blue?” your best friend raises an eyebrow, “I assumed you were still going to end up picking pink.” 

Your memory flashes back to the bet you had made with Jessie in gym class last week. You were running a 1,500 meter race against your classmates, and you told Jessie that if she won she got to pick what color bands you got. If you won, she had to give you the cookie from her lunch. Naturally, Jessie smoked you, running faster than the entire grade seven class.

“Of course I did, Fleming, I keep my promises,” you attempted a grin.

“We’ll work on smiling later,” she teases, “Maybe try and look less pained.”

“I should’ve picked pink.”

--------------------------------------

The smell of hairspray fills your nose as your sister completes the finishing touches on your hair. A fishtail braid cascades down your back, your side bangs pinned out of your face. Gold, shimmery eyeshadow was swept across your eyelids, and your lips tingled from your sister’s lip plumping gloss. You slipped into your dress, your mom and sister helping adjust the corset back.

“Y/N! Jessie’s here!” your dad calls from the living room. 

You and Jessie had decided to attend your high school’s winter formal together, neither of you having a date. You wobble to the top of the stairs, cursing yourself for picking out heels instead of flats. Jessie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding a small plastic container. Unbeknownst to you, too focused on not tripping down the stairs, your best friend watched you with a glimmer in her eye, confused at why butterflies began to stir in her stomach.

“We dress up nice, don’t we, Fleming?” you grin as you get to the bottom step. 

“You look, uh, really pretty,” a blush creeps to Jessie’s face as she holds her hand out, “This is for you, by the way. My mom got them for us.”

Inside the plastic container was a corsage adorned with white roses and gold ribbon, matching your dress. Jessie had a similar one on her wrist, her ribbon silver rather than gold. 

“It’s so pretty, thank you,” you smile, “Put it on me?”

Jessie’s hands shake as she struggles to open the clamshell packaging. You watch her patiently, smiling once she pulls the corsage out of the container. She slides it on your wrist, a flash going off in the corner of your eye.

“Mom!” you groan.

“Come on, Y/N,” your mom frowns, “You two never dress up, let me and Mrs. Fleming get some pictures out of this.” 

You and Jessie posed for a few hundred photos to appease your mother until it was time to leave. Taking a step toward the garage, you grab Jessie’s arm in an attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m definitely going to fall in these,” you laugh, adjusting your heels.

“I won’t let you, I promise.”

--------------------------------------

“Got a hot date, Fleming?” Hailie asks from the opposite end of the locker room.

“Don’t you know? Her girlfriend’s coming to visit!” Teagan shouts in a teasing sing-song, drawing ‘oohs’ from the rest of the team. 

Jessie looks up from where she had been shoving her cleats into her backpack to glare at her teammates, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “How many times do I have to tell you that Y/N is not my girlfriend?”

“You mean how many times you’re going to lie to both me and yourself?” the Australian raises an eyebrow. 

“She’s my best friend, Teags, that’s all.”

A hurt look flashes across Teagan’s face, but her tone drips with sarcasm, “Ouch, I thought I was your best friend.”

“Whatever, Y/N was asking if you wanted to come to dinner with us,” Jessie sighs, secretly hoping her roommate has plans.

It was October of Jessie’s sophomore year at UCLA, and due to distance and conflicting schedules, she hadn’t seen you since the beginning of the summer. Luckily, your university’s fall break fell over a weekend that the Bruins were scheduled to play at home. Your plane was due to land in thirty minutes, and Jessie insisted on picking you up despite having to rush to the airport right after practice.

“So, you’re inviting me to third wheel?” 

“Wait, Teagan, I thought you were coming over tonight,” Hailie interjects.

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you, I’m sleeping over at Hailie’s tonight,” Teagan flashes Jessie a cheeky wink, “Figured you’d want the room to yourself tonight.”

“I take it back, you’re uninvited.”

“Just doing both of us a favor!”

After eating dinner at a restaurant near the airport, you and Jessie headed back to her dorm. Seven hours of travel and a full terminal sprint to catch your connecting flight had you ready for nothing but sweet slumber. While Jessie’s in the bathroom, you glance around her and Teagan’s room. Teagan’s unmade bed was covered in laundry, and papers were strewn across her desk. Jessie’s side of the room looked the complete opposite, not a pillow out of place. Her homework was tucked into her backpack which sat in her desk chair. An extra pillow and throw blanket sat on top of her desk. Throwing the pillow on the floor, you began to shake out the blanket as Jessie stepped out of the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Jessie frowns, “You aren’t sleeping on the floor.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On my bed?” she gestures at the lofted twin bed, “I’ll take the floor.”

“Absolutely not, I am not kicking you out of your bed, Fleming,” you shake your head. Jessie had a game tomorrow afternoon, and you knew sleeping on the floor would end up in her barely being able to move in the morning. 

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t realize Teagan had the air mattress in the back of her car, take my bed,” Jessie tries to take the blanket out of your hands, but you refuse to let go.

“You are not sleeping on the floor,” you frown, “Your back’s going to kill you if you do.”

“It’s just for a night,” she shrugs, “We’ll get the air mattress from Teagan tomorrow.”

You mull over her words for a moment before pulling yourself onto Jessie’s bed, scooting as close to the wall as you can, before patting the mattress. “Plenty of room. Alright, Fleming, time for bed.”

It’s Jessie’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “You can’t be serious.” 

“Dead serious.”

“Y/N–”

“Come on, Jess, it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, beds that were made for two people, not one that I can barely keep myself from falling off of.”

“We’ll just have to cuddle then,” you tease.

Jessie reaches for the pillow on the floor, trying to hide the growing redness in her face. She tosses both the pillow and the throw blanket onto her bed, before using the bedframe to pull herself up. Once she’s settled under her covers, you notice that she’s practically hugging the edge of the mattress. 

“I won’t bite,” you laugh, “Scoot in, I don’t want you to fall.”

Jessie flicks off her lamp before timidly inching toward you, worried you would hear her heartbeat in her chest if she got too close. You had turned to your side, laying facing the wall.

“Goodnight, Jess, try not to fall, okay?”

Too late.

--------------------------------------

“Bon appétit,” you tip an invisible cap, fake French accent at full force. The smell of fresh basil and vodka sauce fills the room. You sit across the dining table from Jessie, pulling your legs criss-crossed in the chair.

“This looks amazing,” she smiles appreciatively, “But since when did you learn how to cook?” Chelsea had a last-minute, late evening training today, the team wanting to tweak a few things prior to their UWCL quarterfinal, so you spent your time alone preparing dinner.

“Lots of time at home during lockdown,” you laugh, “That pact we made freshman year is getting closer and closer to reality, and I figured one of us needs to know how to cook.”

If you noticed Jessie freeze, fork stuck in her bowl of pasta, you didn’t let on. Her cheeks turn red, thinking about the pact you had made years ago. “If we’re both alone when we turn thirty, let’s get married,” you had proposed one night when the two of you were up late at a sleepover.

“You still remember that?” she chuckles nervously, “You wouldn’t want to go through with it, now, though?”

“Is this your way of telling me that you don’t want to marry me?” you tease. 

“No!” Jessie answers, a bit too forcefully for her liking, “I mean, I–uh.”

“I’m just kidding, Jess,” you laugh, “How was training?”

For the rest of dinner, Jessie’s mind races as she pushes her food back and forth around her plate. “You’re being ridiculous, Fleming, it’s just Y/N,” she thinks to herself.

“Everything okay?” you frown, standing to place your dish in the sink, “It wasn’t bad, was it?”

Caught. Fuck. 

“No, it was great,” Jessie shakes her head, “Uh, I’m just still a bit full from a protein shake I had earlier.” 

And now she’s lying. Her stomach twists with hunger pangs, but she can’t get herself to take more than a couple more bites of pasta. Your words from earlier sat in her mind as she dwelled on the idea of marriage. The idea of marrying you. However, marrying you meant that Jessie had to actually tell you how she feels about you, which definitely wasn’t going to happen. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the friendship you’ve had for the last eighteen years.

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“What?” Jessie bites her lip, avoiding your gaze, “I’m not lying.”

As if on cue, Jessie’s stomach betrays her, audibly growling. You raise your eyebrow at her, silently waiting for an explanation.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“What’s wrong, Jess?” you step toward her, resting your hip on the dining table. 

Jessie weighs the options in front of her. Tell you the truth, and risk making the rest of your London trip incredibly awkward. Lie, and know that you can see right through her. It used to be easy for Jessie to push her feelings aside through the past few years due to much of your friendship being long distance. However, every time you came to visit, she found it increasingly more difficult to keep her feelings a secret.

“Did I say something wrong?” your voice draws her out of her thoughts, “When I mentioned the pact?”

Jessie sighs, unsure of how to answer. You knew her too well.

“I’m sorry, Jess, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” you force out an awkward chuckle, “It was a joke, and I di–”

“I love you,” your best friend cuts you off, her eyes growing wide at the realization that her mouth decided not to consult her brain before speaking.

“I love you, too?” you reply, confused as this wasn’t anything new said between you two.

Well, it’s now or never, Jessie thinks to herself. “Uh, no, I–fuck,” she shakes her head, staring everywhere but at you, “No, Y/N, I love you, actually I think I’m in love with you, and I need you to stop talking about us getting married or it’ll be all I can think about, and I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin anything because you’re my best friend, and you definitely don’t feel the sa–”

“Jess, slow down,” you bite your lip, placing a hand on her arm, “Who said I don’t feel the same way?”

“What?” her eyes meet yours, giving you an incredulous look.

“I don’t think you’re ruining anything,” you smile, “Unless you don’t want me to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I want to be with you, then we can pretend like this conversation never happened.”

“You? Want to be with me?” Jessie asks with an air of disbelief to her voice.

“Okay, now you’re just drawing this out,” you tease, “But, if it’s what you need to hear, then yes, Jessie Alexandra Fleming, I, too, am in love with you and have wanted to be with you since I made that pact with you when we were fourteen.”

A smile quirks at Jessie’s lips as her eyes light up. Butterflies soar through her stomach, except this time they aren’t met with a feeling of stress or confusion. 

“Well, are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to keep looking at me with your cute face?” you smirk.

Pulling you into her lap, Jessie places one hand on your hip, the other cupping your face. Her eyes travel down to your lips, leaning in. Your eyes flutter closed, your lips meeting hers. When you pull away, you open your eyes to see Jessie flashing you a cheeky grin.

“So, fourteen-year-old you had an ulterior motive this whole time, huh?” 

--------------------------------------

“What are you looking at?” Jessie asks, sitting next to you on the couch, “Are these for the reception?”

You nod, holding up a picture of you and Jessie at the ice rink from the day you first met. Jessie’s arm was around your shoulders, and your arms wrapped around her waist, both of you cheesing toothless at the camera. Her mom had snapped a photo of you two after forcing her to arrange a playdate with your parents once they came to pick you up. “We were pretty cute, weren’t we?”

“Real cute,” your fiancée chuckles, pulling a print out of the stack. The two of you at your middle school lunch table, Jessie making a face to get you to laugh.

You flick through the remaining photos, which were meant to be framed as centerpieces for the tables at your upcoming wedding reception, each memory bringing you back to a different moment in your relationship. 

“You know, Teagan was about to kill me that weekend,” Jessie gestures at a picture of the two of you after a UCLA game, “After I dropped you off at the airport, she yelled at me for not telling you how I felt.”

“Only took four more years, right?” you tease, holding up a print of your first photo as a couple, a selfie taken on Jessie’s London flat’s couch.

“I guess I could’ve mentioned something a bit sooner,” she blushes.

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart,” you smile, setting the prints on the coffee table, “I wouldn’t want anything different.”

Jessie shakes her head, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Agreed, I’m really, really lucky,” you place a kiss on your fiancée’s cheek, “I can’t wait to marry you, Jessie Fleming.”

“C’mere,” Jessie pulls you in, pressing her lips to yours, “I love you, Y/N, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "Three's a Party"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x Aubrey Griffin x fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: three's not a croud if you're with the right people...

Taglist: @elalfywhore @paxaz535

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears as I leaned against the lockers in the women’s basketball locker room, waiting for KK. The team had just obliterated Seton Hall, 96-36, and the energy in the building was electric. I’d come to every home game this season, partly to support KK and partly because… well, I might’ve developed not one but two massive crushes on two of her teammates: Paige Bueckers and Aubrey Griffin.

They were both captivating in their own way. Paige was smooth-talking and confident, with a sly grin that could make anyone’s knees weak. Aubrey was quieter but no less magnetic, her quiet strength and warmth pulling me in. And as much as I tried to play it cool, KK had caught on to my predicament weeks ago.

“You good, Y/N?” KK’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she appeared beside me, still in her jersey and with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” I lied, standing up straighter.

“You’re lying,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “Is this about the dynamic duo?”

“What? No!” I squeaked, but KK just raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You better figure it out before they drive me insane trying to one-up each other.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

KK smirked. “Oh, nothing. You’ll see.”

It didn’t take long to understand what she meant. Paige caught up with me in the hallway as I waited for KK to finish changing. She leaned casually against the wall beside me, her smile disarming.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice smooth. “You coming out to celebrate tonight?”

“I was thinking about it,” I replied, trying not to get lost in those piercing blue eyes.

“Well,” she said, leaning in slightly, “if you want something more low-key, I was thinking we could hang out. Just the two of us. You know, celebrate properly.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, um… I’ll think about it.”

“Cool,” she said, her grin widening. “Let me know.” With a wink, she sauntered off down the hallway, leaving me flustered.

Before I could fully recover, Aubrey appeared. Her approach was quieter, but the intensity in her gaze made my heart race.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You were great cheering tonight. We could hear you.”

I laughed nervously. “Thanks. You all didn’t really need it, though. That was a blowout.”

“Still,” she said, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You always show up for us.”

I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “Of course. KK’s my cousin.”

“Not just for KK,” Aubrey said, her eyes holding mine for a moment too long. “Anyway, I was thinking… if you’re not doing anything later, maybe we could grab a bite. Just us.”

My heart did a flip. “Oh, uh… maybe. I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable, before heading back toward the locker room. I watched her go, my stomach twisting into knots.

Later, as KK and I walked back to my dorm, I groaned. “What am I supposed to do? Paige wants to hang out. Aubrey wants to hang out. I can’t choose, KK. They’re both… perfect.”

KK snorted. “Perfect? Please. Paige talks too much, and Aubrey broods too much.”

“KK,” I whined, smacking her arm lightly.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Y/N, you don’t have to pick. You could just… I don’t know… make it a group thing.”

I shot her a look. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward.”

KK shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just saying, you don’t have to stress about it. Besides, it’s obvious they both like you.”

“Thanks, that helps so much,” I said sarcastically.

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop meddling. But seriously, they need to chill before I have to beat them up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’d pay to see that.”

What I didn’t know was that KK wasn’t done meddling. When we got back to my dorm, she excused herself with a suspiciously vague excuse and disappeared. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find both Paige and Aubrey standing there, looking equally confused.

“What…?” I began, but KK appeared behind them, grinning.

“Three’s a party, right?” she said, winking at me before walking off. “Y’all figure it out.”

Paige and Aubrey exchanged glances before looking at me. “So… this is awkward,” Paige said, scratching the back of her neck.

“No kidding,” Aubrey muttered.

I sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Come in. I guess we’re celebrating together.”

They both hesitated before stepping inside, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward they looked. For two people who were usually so confident on the court, they seemed completely out of their depth.

It didn’t take long for the tension to ease, though. We ordered pizza, turned on some music, and started talking about everything from basketball to embarrassing childhood stories. By the time the food arrived, we were all laughing like old friends.

“So, Y/N,” Paige said, leaning back against the couch. “Be honest. Who were you gonna pick?”

Aubrey shot her a look. “Smooth, Paige. Real smooth.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’m curious!” Paige said, grinning. “Come on, just tell us.”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head.

“Fine,” Aubrey said, smirking. “We’ll just have to guess.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Game on.”

The two of them spent the rest of the night playfully competing for my attention, from seeing who could make me laugh the hardest to who could stack the most pizza slices on one plate without it toppling over. By the end of it, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

As the night wound down, I found myself sitting between them on the couch, my head resting on Aubrey’s shoulder while Paige played with the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Okay,” Paige said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Aubrey said, though she was smiling.

“Why don’t we just… share?” Paige suggested, looking between the two of us.

I sat up, my heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Paige said, her grin mischievous, “why does it have to be one or the other? We could all hang out. Together. No pressure.”

Aubrey considered this, then shrugged. “I’m not opposed.”

I blinked at them, my mind racing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Paige said. “Besides, three’s a party, not a crowd, right?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Aubrey said, smiling softly. “But we mean it. No matter what you decide, we’re here for you.”

In that moment, I realized that maybe I didn’t have to choose. And with Paige and Aubrey by my side, I knew one thing for sure: this was going to be one hell of a ride.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[flowery-mess]

uh oh

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / alcohol / protected sex / friends with benefits / let me know if anything else should be taged!

Words: 3,7k

frat boy Noah masterlist

Author's note: I fell in love with frat boy Noah while writing this, so feel free to elaborate or send thots, I'll maybe make this a 'thing', maybe series? What do you think?

Inspired by this song:

feel your eyes watchin' me, so I'm movin' on him just so you can see, told you I was gonna get you right back, oh, you don't really like that? ✨

You and Noah met at sociology class you both had to attend in junior year at college. Your majors not similar at all, his being economics and finance and your neuropsychology. You never had the same classes until now, so he was just another one of pretty school boys for you. You never paid much attention to him as you were actually interested in topics your professor talked about in classes, but you couldn’t say the same about Noah. You caught his eye the first week of when he entered the big study room and you were the first one there, working on your neurology project with headphones on. When you noticed movement around you and lifted your head, Noah only gave you a small nod and sat few rows behind you. That was your first encounter.

Your second encounter was when you were at the opening party at a frat house. You liked going out, having fun time and drinks with your friends. You usually let them pick the place or party you’re going to be attending, so you didn’t have a clue where you’d end up that night. You had pre drinks at your shared dorm with your two best friends, picking outfits and doing each other’s makeup. You ended up wearing black leather skirt that ended just above your knees, basic black top and matching leather jacket over your shoulders. That was bold outfit for you, so you decided for some natural makeup look with red lips. You felt good that night, the alcohol in your system helping your confidence.

When you entered the frat house the party was already on, music on full volume and people all over the place. You found some of your classmates and had shots with them, then settled on the big red couch in the living room to play some stupid game that involved alcohol.

After while your friends were too occupied either with kissing boys or chugging vodka down their throats, so you went to find kitchen to have some water for a change.

“Wouldn’t think of you as a party girl.” you heard deep male voice behind you, but didn’t know if he was talking to you. When you looked around and saw only few younger boys chatting in the corner about god knows what, you turned around to see the pretty tatted boy looking at you.

“Why not?” you asked.

“You look like someone who spends their Friday night studying at home. You always have book in front of you at school.” Noah answered your question with a teasing smile.

“Well, that’s so I can have fun on a Friday night instead of reading books.” you crossed your arms over your chest, not knowing where this small talk will get you.

“Smart and funny, I like that.” he said, taking small steps towards you.

“So, you’re part of the fraternity then?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You look like someone who spends their Friday night partying and having one night stands.” you shot back.

“You’re almost right. I am in this fraternity, I like partying on Friday nights,” he slowly walked in your direction, making you walk backwards until your back hit the counter and he caged you in with his arms on your sides, “but I don’t do one night stands.”

You felt his breath on your cheek, as he leaned closer to your face.

“Oh, sorry for making assumptions then.” you said just a bit louder than whisper.

You didn’t do one night stands either, but you blamed alcohol that night for ending with Noah between your legs, his tongue deep inside your pussy and your fingers in his dark hair. You had sex with him in a room you later found out wasn’t even his, he lived in an apartment 10 minutes away from the campus. The sex was great and you actually enjoyed talking with him after he got you finish for the second time that night.

Since then you said “Hi” to each other at every sociology class and at every party you both were. Leaving those parties together also became regular thing that grew into friends with benefits type of thing. You agreed on casual sex, without dates and feelings. You sometimes ordered food or watched movie, but never in a romantic way. And you liked it that way.

Until Noah started flirting with other girls at parties. You weren’t jealous, because it was always you who was screaming his name later, but you didn’t like the uneasy feeling in your tummy everytime you saw a girl touch his bicep or him to lean down to the girls ear so she could hear what he was saying.

You liked what you two had and didn’t want to lose it. So you talked to him about it one night, which lead to an argument instead of sex and orgasms. He told you that it’s just harmless flirting and if you’re jealous that means you caught feelings for him and that he doesn’t want that. You tried to tell him it’s not like that, that you just don’t want to continue this thing between you if he wants to have sex with other girls and that you would understand if he would want to end it, but he didn’t listen. You didn’t talk to each other for three weeks and he made sure you saw every single one of his flirt attempts at parties.

So you decided to do the same tonight. You went for short black dress with deep V neck that made your boobs look amazing. The dress probably made the trick as you found yourself talking with a guy from the same fraternity Noah was part of. You were leaning against the wall in their living room as he hovered over you. You didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying, you were watching Noah with red haired girl at the couch. When your eyes met you saw something in Noah’s eyes that you haven’t seen there before. Jealousy? Anger? His eyes were dark and he was staring at you.

The boy who’s name you forgot like ten seconds after he told you, started touching your hips and leaning towards you too much for you liking, so you excused yourself and went for the bathroom.

“What the hell was that?” you heard Noah’s voice when you opened the bathroom door and he was leaning against the wall opposite you.

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What kind of show was that supposed to be?” he was angry, you could hear it in his voice.

“A show? You mean the same show you’ve been doing the past three weeks? It’s not so nice from the other side, is it?”

He didn’t want to hear another word, so he pushed you back into the tiny bathroom.

I’m yours again when you walk away, you know if you leave, I ain't gonna stay, when I'm doin' good, you get me off track, and I guess I kinda like that. ✨

“Come to my place with me?” Noah said between kisses and lifted you so you sat next to the sink.

He was jealous, but wouldn’t admit it. But you felt it in the way he was kissing you, his tongue fighting for dominance and his hands in your hair, pulling at them every once in a while.

“Say you’re sorry Noah.” you said breathlessly, leaning back from him until your back touched the cold mirror behind you.

“Sorry for what?” he had your lipstick all over his lips and chin, he looked hot like that, marked.

“Noah.” you knew he knew what you were asking from him, but he was too proud to say it.

“Come to my place with me and let me show you how sorry I am?” he asked you, already kneeling in front of you. He knew what your weakness is, so how could you say no to him when he was already pulling your panties to the side.

you make me really, really good at makin' bad decisions, all my friends know where to look every time I go missin', seven texts and two missed calls, know I can't ignore 'em all, said that I'm gonna be sleepin' at mine, i lied. ✨

You knew you should have said no, but you missed him. You missed his touch, his hands all over your body, his mouth on your skin and how good he could make you feel.

After your argument three weeks ago, your friends told you that you should stop seeing him, that what he started doing wasn’t acceptable and that you should know your worth, but he was just so addictive. So when your friends saw you two leave, you felt ashamed and tried to avoid their stare. You knew that you’ll find missed calls and unread messages on your phone in the morning, but you didn’t care at that moment. You just wanted, no, needed to feel Noah’s skin on yours again. You craved him, the satisfaction he was able to give you.

uh oh, I couldn't help myself, i'm almost at your house again, again, uh oh, I'm one foot in the door, my clothes are on your floor again, again. i get a little drunk and it's all I want, tomorrow I'll be sick, but tonight I'm numb, uh oh, now we can just pretend, we won't do it again, again, again. ✨

The drive to Noah’s place was short, the taxi driver’s music loud enough for him not to hear all the dirty things Noah whispered in your ear.

“I hated Trevor’s hands on your body, only I can touch you.”

“I miss your mouth on my dick, you’re so good.”

“I’m gonna make you scream my name baby.”

He was selfish. He hated another man’s hands on you, yet he could touched dozen of other women. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but you just couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to be strong enough to not get in the taxi with him and go back to Trevor who actually looked interested in you and maybe would take you out on a proper date.

Instead you left with Noah, knowing how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna have a great sex, fall asleep in his arms, sneak out in the morning and then feel like shit. You’re gonna listen to your friends about how you’re just hurting yourself and wasting time with him, them making you promise it was the last time, only to break that promise at the next party.

roll your eyes like you do, shoulda known it's always the same with you, tryin' not to feel our connection, but, oh my god, it's kinda temptin' ✨

In the elevator you walked Noah back until his body hit the wall and went for his neck. Leaving lipstick all over his skin, licking and biting his sensitive spots. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before he closed them fully and left his mouth hanging open. Silent moans leaving his pink lips, until the elevator stopped at his floor.

you said, "Can we leave now?", i don't think we should, through the back door, that won't end good, how 'bout my place? shit, you know I would, then I'll follow you out, hope nobody looks. ✨

“Do you want a drink?” Noah asked you, really hoping your answer would be no so he could take you straight to his bed.

“Yes, wine is fine.” you said as you started taking off your coat, taking in the sight of familiar apartment you haven’t seen in weeks.

Noah took out two glasses and filled them with white wine, then handed one to you. You sipped on your drinks in quiet, you sitting at Noah’s kitchen counter and him standing next to the oven.

“Did you have sex with anyone in the last few weeks?” you managed to build the courage to ask him the question that was in the back of your mind for weeks.

“What?” he looked genuinely confused.

“You heard me.”

“No, the last time I had sex was with you.”

“Then why did you start flirting with all those girls in front of me, Noah?”

“It’s just for fun, you were the one I took home in the end.”

“It wasn’t fun for me.”

“That’s why you did the same with Trevor tonight?”

“And you didn’t like it, or did you?”

“No.”

“We said no to sleeping with other people, I just felt like you wanted to and you flirting with all those girls made me feel uncomfortable. That’s all.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again if we go back to our thing.” his apology seemed genuine, so you nodded your head.

“Okay, but you can tell me if you want to stop and date someone, I’ll be fine with that.” you finished your wine at the same time Noah did. He took the glass from your hand and put them both in the sink. When he returned, he came much closer to you and put his hands on your thighs.

“I don’t want to date anyone, I told you that.” he rubbed his nose along your jaw, then he gently kissed your neck and you tilted your head back to give him more access.

He made sure to suck on your sensitive spots, he desperately needed to hear your moans.

you make me really, really good at makin' bad decisions, all my friends know where to look every time I go missin', seven texts and two missed calls, know I can't ignore 'em all, said that I'm gonna be sleepin' at mine, i lied. ✨

“Lay down.” he helped you lay down on the cold counter and then continued kissing you more. He went for your chest, kissing the top of your breaths that were close to spilling over the edge of your lacy bra.

He palmed your nipples through the fabric of your dress, smirking at the sound that came from your mouth.

Noah rolled your dress up to your waist and kissed your tummy until he reached the lacy panties you wore, matching your bra.

“Poor Trevor, bet he would love to see those too.” Noah teased you.

“Shut up Noah.” you lifted your hips to give him sign he should talk less and touch you more.

He took the hint and gladly slid the panties down your legs.

“Fuck I missed you.” he sighed at the view in front of him. You were laying down with legs spread open just for him. Your cheeks were pink and your chest was going up and down from the excitement.

Noah kneeled down so he’d face your core and put your legs over his shoulders so he could spread you open as much as he needed to.

He took his time, licking you from you entrance to your clit, tasting you like a starved man. His tongue explored you like it was for the first time, slowly and gently moving up and down.

“Oh Noah.” you let out a breathy moan only he could hear. He felt himself grow tighter in his pants, but he wanted to give you an apology before he’d fuck you senselessly.

He sucked on your clit, teasing your pussy with his long fingers. He spread you open with them and went to slowly fuck you with his tongue. His other hand made its way to your clit, collecting your wetness so he could gently rub small circles where you wanted it the most.

“Noah, I’m-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt the start of your orgasm in your lower tummy. Noah had to put more pressure on your hips to hold you down, but continued with his moves until he felt your legs shake and your breath stop for a second. You squeezed his head with your thighs and let out the sexiest sounds out of your mouth.

After he was sure he licked you clean, he took you in his arms and started walking in the direction of his bedroom.

He laid you down in his bed and connected your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips, that alone made you want him more.

You helped him out of his clothes until he was only in his underwear and you pushed him down so he was laying under you. You straddled his lap, enjoying the view for a moment. He was looking at you with eyes full of lust, his hair messily laying around his head. He was waiting for you next move, letting you take control for now.

You took your dress and bra off at the same time and Noah immediately went to touch your boobs. He squeezed them and started playing with your nipples. Your head fell back and your hips moved involuntary.

The wetness from your core already making wet spot on Noah’s underwear, but both of you couldn’t care less.

You shifted your weight to one of your legs and shimmied Noah’s underwear down his legs. His dick fell back against his stomach, hard and swollen, waiting for you to take him.

You wrapped your fingers around his length and he gripped your hips as an reaction. You stroked him few times, collecting the pre cum and enjoyed the state Noah was in. He had his eyes closed in a bliss, gripping your hips like his life depended on it.

“Fuck me, please.” he groaned, knowing he wouldn’t last long if you’d keep stroking him.

You reached into his drawer and took a condom out. You took your time putting it on, teasing Noah along the way.

You took Noah’s dick in your hand and collected your wetness with it, then gently slid down his whole length.

You both made unnatural sounds and you sat still for a moment, enjoying the fullness and stretch he was giving you.

When you started moving your hips, Noah reached for your right hand and intertwined your fingers, giving you his hand for balance. Your eyes were closed and mouth open, as you were riding his dick in slow motions.

“That’s it, god yes!” Noah encouraged you to keep going with his words, squeezing your fingers when it felt particularly good. “Touch yourself baby.” he told you, and you did as you were told.

You didn’t pay much attention to the word baby, as it was something he went for regularly. Instead you paid attention to your fingers touching your clit, feeling another orgasm closer and closer.

Noah felt you squeeze him and he knew you were close, he wanted you to have one more orgasm before he finished, so he encouraged you with his words. “Come on, cum on my dick. That’s it, you can let go.” as if it was the last thing you needed for actually letting go, the orgasm took over you and you fell to Noah’s chest.

He hold you, whispering gentle things in your ear as you tried to even your breath.

When he knew you were okay to continue, he started kissing your neck and gently lifted you from him and you felt him slide out of you, suddenly feeling empty. He switched your positions, you were now laying under him, ready for more.

“You good?” he asked you, wanting some kind of permission to continue.

“Mhm.” was all you could get out before attacking his lips with yours, pulling him down by his neck.

He lined himself at your entrance and slowly slid in. His head fell in the crook of your neck and you enjoyed feeling him inside you again.

His movements were slow at first, his hand slid around you throat and he put a bit of pressure on it, just like you liked it.

“You feel so good around my dick, fuck!” Noah managed to say between taking deep breaths. You felt so good and so loved at the moment. You knew there were no feelings, but the way Noah knew your body and where to touch you or what to say, that made you feel loved.

He went to kiss you, but instead you both left your mouth open and moaned into each other’s open lips as both of your orgasm started to build inside your bodies.

Noah’s rhythm became irregular and you felt his hand on your clit.

“Noah, fuck!” you breathed out when you felt the orgasm build inside you for the third time, more intensive than before.

You felt the Noah’s dick twitch inside you and you knew he was cuming, he grunted next to your ear in bliss.

Hearing him reach his high with his hand still on your clit pushed you over the edge and you came seconds after him.

He collapsed on top of you, staying inside you until his dick softened.

He moved you both so he was laying on his back and were laying on his chest, both of you still catching your breaths before you went to clean yourselves.

uh oh, I couldn't help myself, i'm almost at your house again, again, uh oh, I'm one foot in the door, my clothes are on your floor again, again. i get a little drunk and it's all I want, tomorrow I'll be sick, but tonight I'm numb, uh oh, now we can just pretend, we won't do it again, again, again. ✨

After you took shower and changed into Noah’s t-shirt, you laid in his bed waiting for him to finish washing up.

You had toothbrush, make up remover and underwear at his place. He didn’t mind, he also didn’t mind you staying the night and then leaving his place before he woke up.

You enjoyed falling asleep next to him, sometimes you would talk until 2AM about anything, sometimes you would watch movie and sometimes you would fall asleep straight away.

You watched him dry off his body with white towel through his mirror, wondering if you would go back to hooking up every weekend after tonight or if something is going to change. You knew your friends will try to talk some sense into you tomorrow, but for now you just wanted to pretend like there is no tomorrow.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h

Click here to get on my tag list

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong “Thanos” - Stab me.

Warning : blood, death

Genre : angst

Synopsis : Imagine the final game is the same one as in season 1 but it’s just you and Thanos

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English // it’s short UGH

As you entered the empty field, you recognized the place. You had played the first game here, Younghee still in place, her body facing the wall but her head turned to you, as if she was still watching you.

Thanos was by your side, almost in his own world as he had already popped one of his pills in his mouth, moving his hands to the rhythm of the square guard speaking, explaining the rules.

You wanted to smile at his antics and relax but you couldn’t.

The more he spoke, the more you recognized the rules, the game. Though you played it a lot as a kid, you didn’t have for habit of winning it.

You had expected the last game to be a one versus one. One lives, one dies. But you had hoped for a game where two could win. If only.

You squeezed the knife in your pocket. You were ready. You breathed slowly, trying to calm yourself and your panicking heart.

“Three. If by any chance one player is unable to proceed with the game, the last one to stand wins.” The guard finished as he turned around, stopping you in the center of the field where lines were drawn on the ground like in your childhood, but much bigger.

“What happens to the uh, player who loses ?” You asked, voice shaky, hoping for the best.

As Thanos was about to reply that you’d be two winners, the guard spoke.

“Death. Like in any other games.”

“Huh ? What ?” Thanos said, before looking at you, wide eyed.

“Now, let the game begin.” The guard said, walking away from the giant squid on the ground.

Thanos slowly moved to the tip of the squid, ready to play the game though he was trying to think of a plan to get out of here. He had the fork from the bathroom fight and stole a knife from the last meal, he could kill the seemingly unarmed guard. But then what ?

As he turned around he noticed you hadn’t moved.

“I fucking hated that game.” You said with a disgusted face, pulling the knife out of your pocket and before you could think more about your actions, you stabbed yourself in the chest, taking it out and planting it again. You grimaced. Sweating. Fuck, so painful !

Thanos was horrified. Frozen in shock.

You tried to speak but let out a cough instead, some blood spilling out of your mouth, ruining your sweet face.

You pulled the knife out one last time and let it fall down. More blood gushing and spilling out, staining your suit. You fell to your knees before planting face first into the ground, gasping.

Thanos’ eyes were wide as he thought he was having a bad trip, but when he saw you remain on the ground, unmoving, he finally stumbled toward you, rushing, pulling you against him.

“What the fuck ! Why did you do that ?!” He yelled, his voice and hands were shaking. He didn’t know what to do.

You raised your hand slowly, gently caressing his face, before going to his hair, enjoying their fluffiness, a soft smile on your bloodied lips. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it against his heart.

Fuck.

“[Name]… Oh my god…” He started, looking at your face then at your wounds. “Why did you do that !? Huh ?!” He yelled, shaking you slightly, not understanding your thought process. How could you do this ? You were supposed to be the one winning. Not him.

“So…rry.” You replied, struggling to speak. It was hurting so bad you could hardly breathe. “Am selfish.” Your voice was so quiet, barely audible, like strangled.

He frowned.

“What do I do ? What do I do !?” He yelled, frustration and fear engulfing him. He placed one hand on your stab wounds, trying to stop the bleeding, your blood seeping between his fingers, getting stuck inside his rings. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You squeezed his hand, feeling your end approach more and more.

You wanted to speak more, to tell him how much you love him, how you love loving him, how thankful you felt for his feelings, even when you’re arguing, clashing, fighting.

You wanted to tell him you are too afraid to live without him, on your own, with your grief for only company. But he can do it, he’s resourceful, has dreams, he can have connexions, find help. Start anew with the money. Be a fucking worldwide rapper like he had planned. You know it will be hard, but he can do it. You trust him.

You coughed and wheezed more blood out as you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

You wanted to tell him to kiss you, one last time, so you could die without forgetting the taste of his lips, though you never forgot it. But it’s for good measure and to erase the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

You were so afraid.

You grabbed his collar, wanting to pull him in but tears glided down your face instead. It was so fucking painful. Fuck…

You let go of him, hand falling to the ground as you drew out your last breath, Thanos was holding you tightly, still screaming and cursing at the guard to help, to fucking do something, not noticing your death until after a good minute.

“No ! [Name] !” He yelled, shaking you. Your empty eyes looking at the sky, a flock of birds passing by. His head fell down, devastated, defeated, heartbroken.

He looked at the knife.

He wanted to do the same. To end it, once and for all. He had been too much of a coward to do it on the bridge, now was his fucking chance.

But he is still a fucking coward.

It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it ? If I stab myself in the heart ? It’s gonna be painful ? Will we really be reunited ? Will you be happy to see me ?

How did you do it ? Why ? How could you ?

He let out a frustrated scream before pulling you closer.

“Fuck ! Why did you do that ?” He asked, quietly, kissing your forehead.

Thanos stayed like this, holding you, until he heard footsteps coming from behind him, two masked O approaching with a big black box to put your lifeless body in.

“Don’t approach ! Go away !” He grabbed the knife, swinging it around, ready to fight them, still holding you. “Fucking bitchless bastards, I’ll kill y-”

The square guard had knocked him out with his gun.

It took a lot of time for Thanos to come back to the rap scene. Scared he would fail you. Fail the second chance you gave him. But he was doing his best, releasing songs and samples every now and then to not be forgotten. He wasn’t really successful, forgotten since his appearance on TV, but he did get himself a small fanbase, a mix of the 1st day fans and new ones.

Though his debts and lack of money weren’t really known, people still noticed the change in his entourage and the people he worked with.

“Do you think he stole the money from his fans ?” A girl asked her friend, reading an article about Thanos’s comeback. “A bit like that YouTuber that disappeared some years ago after scamming his viewers with crypto money. Ah, what was his name ?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think his fans are rich enough to give him that much money. Maybe he won the lottery ?” Her friend replied, looking over her shoulder to read the article as well. “But he’s not the type of guy to hide he won it, so I truly wonder too.”

[ponett]

hi uh so um do you have any tips for someone who wants to make an rpg (more general game design stuff i'm not planning to make it in rpg maker) (sorry if this is really annoying) (loved slarpg)

So this is a very broad subject since RPGs are a complex genre that can be approached a lot of different ways, but in general I think the most important thing is to look at the games you play analytically.

How do individual design choices contribute to the big picture of the experience the devs are trying to give you? How do they make you feel? If something is annoying, can you think of an intentional reason why it might have been designed that way? How are things paced? How much are you pushed to use the tools at your disposal? How do the enemy behaviors influence your actions? What kind of rewards are you given, and when? What sort of choices is the player given? How open or constricted is the world design? How does the gameplay help convey the story? And what really speaks to you about the games you love, deep down? When you can break things down like this and think about what you'd do the same and what you'd do differently, you can build something new off of the core pillars of the games you love, rather than just copying them on a surface level.

And as everyone will tell you, start small. Don't sit down and decide to make a 60-hour epic right from the jump. You will burn out. Everything takes longer than you think it will. I made what I thought was going to be a 5-8 hour game and it ended up being a 20+ hour game that took me the better part of a decade.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Together In The Kitchen ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 770ish

Summary: You and Logan work together in the kitchen.

Warning(s): suggestive themes, complete cringe (seriously)

Notes: Please share your thoughts! This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

It had been a calm and lazy Sunday, just like you like them. Logan and you hadn’t done much, mainly just reading and lounging around. Eventually, dinner time came around and you knew that you and Logan needed to eat. You turned to kiss his cheek from where you were laying against him on the couch.

“I’m going to get dinner started,” you told him.

“Need any help?” Logan quickly offered.

“You willing?”

“Wouldn’t be offerin’ if I wasn’t.”

“I’d love your help, Logan.”

“Great.” 

Before you could move, Logan took you in his arms and stood up. You laughed as he carried you to the kitchen and set you on the counter. His lips captured yours for a brief kiss before he pulled back and looked at you like you hung the moon.

“Why don’t we try something new, sweetheart?” He suggested.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. “What do you have in mind?”

“What if I’m your hands and you tell me what do to?”

You giggled. “Uh, no.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you with my life, honey, I just don’t trust you to listen to my instructions.”

“Let me prove you wrong.” He began to press kisses down your neck. “Please, baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Logan’s begging. “Sorry, babe,” you pushed him away, surprised when he allowed you to. “I want something editable to eat tonight, but I could use your help as we work together.”

“Fine,” Logan sighed, head falling to your shoulder. “You win this time.”

His hands was on your hips as you pushed yourself off of the counter. You gave his lips another peck before pulling away from him to gather your needed items.

“Can you pull the carrots out of the fridge?” You asked.

Logan grunted, moving to do what you asked. He pulled out the carrots and turned to see that you had gotten out a cutting board. He set the carrots on it.

“Could you cut those?” You waved over at the carrots.

“Sure.” 

Logan washed the carrots before setting them down on the cutting board. He released his three claws from his fist and rinsed them off before using them to cut the carrots. You rolled your eyes at Logan. You knew that he knew that him using his claws for random everyday things turned you on. You knew the game that he was playing, but two could play at this game.

Once everything was cut up and placed in the pot on the stove, you flicked your wrist and the pot was immediately the temperature you wanted it without turning the stove on. Then you turned to the bowl that you had dough rising in and used your powers to get the temperature up slightly. Logan watched with mischievous eyes, knowing full well that the two of you were going back and forth like this.

Logan helped you form the rolls and placed them in the oven to cook. He glanced in the pot and unsheathed one of his claws. He fished out a carrot on one of his claws and turned to you.

“Taste,” he requested, offering you his claw.

You kept your eyes on him as you took the carrot and the tip of his claw in your mouth. You closed your mouth around them and slowly pulled off. You held off the smirk that threatened to take over your face as Logan let out a low growl. 

“Just how I wanted it,” you commented. You kissed the lip of his claw, always trying to remind him that you loved his claws. “Thanks, honey.”

Logan quickly responded by pulling you into him and smashing your lips together. He quickly dominated the kiss. He lifted you up onto the counter, smirking against the kiss as he felt you growing hotter.

“Wanna tell me what to do, sweetheart?” He taunted against your lips.

“Logan,” you moaned as his lips moved from your lips and down your neck.

“Don’t think that’s tellin’ me what to do.”

“Please…”

“Not quite.”

“Logan.”

“Still not.”

“Please just take me to the bedroom and do what you want with me.”

“What I want?” He leaned back with a smirk. “What about dinner?”

“I can warm it back up… Please, Logan. I’m telling you what to do… Take me to bed and show me how much you love me.”

He picked you up and knelt on the ground, laying you down on the kitchen floor. “I’d think I’d rather do it right here… Makin’ love in the kitchen to my wife.”

[swanlakex]

Ok so I’m actually in love with this plot lmk if I should make a mini-series or something.. enjoy!

Camp Counselor Sam

Sam hated his job.

Or, at least that’s what he wanted everyone else to think. His mom had forced him to apply after finding 2 bongs and a concerning amount of pills under his bed and in his sock drawer. A summer would set him straight, teach him some responsibility, she figured.

“Hey,” Sam groaned to his campers, lying down on a bench. “No fighting.” He pulled his arms over his face, his dark sunglasses not even helping the hangover he was facing. The other counselors slipped out of the cabins late last night to “The Spot”, which was really just a gazebo tucked away in the woods a walk away. It was there they drank cheap beer around the fire, strumming songs on their guitars and complaining about the kids. You were there, too. And you couldn’t find an escape to Sam’s burning gaze through the fire, staring straight through your soul. It was a little creepy.

Sam was in charge of the Chippewa cabin, boys aged 7-9. Potty trained, sure; but loud, sticky, and stubborn. Two boys were wrestling around in the dirt before lunch, obviously stir crazy. Once Sam chided them, they both stood up, and one pushed the other as a last resort get-back.

“Seriously, Jacob. Enough. Ethan’ll have another asthma attack, and I’m not going through that paperwork again.” Sam groaned. “Why can’t you go play Gaga with the others? Always gotta stir up stuff.” Jacob, one of the older kids in the cabin, looked back at the Gaga pit. “I can’t.” He whispered. Sam sighed and sat up, throwing his arms up and landing them back on his knees with a Slap! “Why not?”

“Emma’s there.” Jacob pointed to a girl around his age, braids in her hair as she kicked a ball around, smiling.

“So?”

Silence was all Sam needed to understand.

“Oh! You like her, huh?”

“Shhh!” Jacob cringed.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? I’m great with girls.” He said quietly with a smirk.

“Like Counselor Y/N?”

“Shut up,” Sam looked away. “Go talk to her.”

“And say what?”

“I dunno. You like her shirt, or somethin’. Or- better option: show her your killer Gaga skills. That’ll impress her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, man. Go.” Sam swatted Jacob away with his hand, pushing towards the game, smiling as he laid back down for some peace and quiet. Finally.

“AHHHHH!” Sam sat up immediately when he heard an ear-piercing scream. Wincing at the volume. As he whipped his head around, he saw little Emma on the ground, clutching her face. Sobbing. He also saw Jacob with the purest look of terror in his eyes, and a ball right beside Emma.

“Oh my god! Emma! Are you okay?” You shout, looking up from your magazine. You run to her, kneeling down to her to assess the damage.

“I’m so sorry!” Jacob cried. “I- I didn’t mean to!”

Sam came over, grabbing Jacob by the shoulders.

“Way to fumble the bag, dude.” Sam whispered in his ear. He nodded to you and Emma. “Is she ok?”

Emma moved her hands from her face. Blood gushed from her nose.

“Fuck,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

You turned to Sam, not recognizing him until now because of the chaos. “Uh. Yeah. Just gotta go to the infirmary.” You turn back to Emma, one of your campers, with a face full of pity.

“Can you walk, bug?” Emma responded with loud, inconsolable wailing. You just nod, stand, and pull Emma up in your arms, her head dangling over your shoulder. Blood was getting all over your shirt.

Sam and his camper watched in horror as you walked Emma to the infirmary. Then, the lunch bell rang.

Emma was fine. Some Kleenex, ice, and a sucker was all she needed before you walked her to the dining hall with a smile on her face. But before she could run to her friends, you two were stopped. Sam and Jacob stood awkwardly, but Sam nudged Jacob and he spoke.

“E-Emma. I’m really sorry I kicked the ball in your face. I didn’t mean to. Sorry.” Jacob then handed her a handful of picked dandelions that he was hiding behind his back. “These are for you.”

Sam whispered something in Jacob’s ear.

“And I like your shirt.”

Emma smiled gently and took the yellow flowers. “Thanks.” She said shyly. “Do you wanna sit together?”

Jacob turned to Sam beaming with pride.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” He said with a push. With that, Emma and Jacob ran off to the other side of the dining hall.

You looked up at Sam, smiling confusedly.

“The apology was his idea,” he blurted. “I just thought the flowers might sweeten the deal.” Dandelions are actually weeds, you thought. You kept that to yourself.

“That was sweet, Sam. Thank you.” You smile.

He just nodded curtly and slipped away into the buzzing crowd of people.

What a mystery of a guy, you thought.

[sloaneispunk]

“it’s all fun & games”

frontman!in-ho x you

a certain sweetheart in the game knows in-ho’s real identity, but will she care when in-ho feels the same way about her?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

“let’s go one round and introduce ourselves, it’s lame calling everyone by their numbers.” you chipped in excitedly, hand rest on the palm of your hands as you eyed in-ho.

he knew the game you were playing, you just wanted to see how long he could keep his identity concealed.

“i’m jung-bae.”

“i’m dae-ho.”

“my name’s jun-hee.”

“and i’m seong gi-hun.”

“i’m y/n and i guess that just leaves you.” you pointed to in-ho who was nervously looking down at the floor.

“i-i’m… young-il.” he said in a low voice.

“young-il!” you giggled, “hey, that matches your number! i wonder if it’s a coincidence!”

“ah, she’s right! 0-1, young-il!” junb-bae clapped his hands as the team laughed.

but in-ho couldn’t care less, he gave you a glare as you tirled a few strands of your hair between your fingers.

this was going to be fun.

even as big of a compromise as you were to his plan, in-ho found himself liking it. not only was it a challenge, but he got to see the cheeky, not-so innocent side of you that no one else could.

by now, he was almost a hundred percent positive that you knew exactly who he was, the frontman. but did he care? no. it was all fun and games, just a little tiny ruse of yours to keep him on his toes.

that night when everyone was tucked into their beds, getting ready to sleep, in-ho sneakily walked up to the side of your bed.

“can i help you?” you chirped, eyes doe-wided as you smiled at him. but he saw right through, you wsnted this to happen.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he gritted out, sitting down beside your bed.

“trying to sleep but some bozo won’t let me.” you scoffed playfully, laughung at your own joke while in-ho didn’t even crack a smile. “what do you want?”

“what do i want? i want you to stop whatever games you’re playing here.” he said sternly, “i don’t know how you figured it out, but they don’t know so keep it down!”

“can’t a girl have some fun?” you looked at him with a pout on your lips. “isn’t it more exciting for you this way, i know you like the thrill as much as i do.”

in-ho took a hold of your jacket, giving you no choice but to lean down towards him, face centermeters away from him as you felt his breath on your cheek.

“look, i don’t care that you have anything to do with the game, i really don’t!” you lifted your arms up subtly in surrender. “but i gotta say, you’re pretty hot for the frontman.”

“yeah? is this what you wanted? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? you needed my attention?”

“maybe.” you shrugged, causing him to shake his head, chuckling in disbelief.

“you’re something else, y’know?”

“all for you.”

after that, you both went to bed. your mind was racing. was this really going to end well? maybe it was just a stupid crush you had on him, it didn’t really matter. but in-ho had other plans, he’s never met someone so sweet yet cunning at the same time. you had awoken a flame inside of him that he swore was already gone.

during breakfast the next day, you sat close to in-ho legs and arms touching as you got comfortable beside him.

“so what’s your real name?” you whispered to him as the others carried on with their conversation.

“you gonna tell anyone, you minx?” he teased, smiling down at you.

“i promise i won’t.”

“it’s in-ho.”

“in-ho, huh? that goes pretty well with y/n.”

he laughed out loud at your obvious flirting, making the others stop to look at you both.

“sorry.” you apologised to the team as they resumed their talk.

when it came to the ‘six-legged pentathlon’ game, you were paired with in-ho, gi-hun, jung-bae and dae-ho.

“oh, inh-i mean young-il, which game do you think you’ll be good at?” you asked, purposefully slipping up to get a rise out of him once more.

in-ho clenched his fist, he knew it was intentional.

“uh, spinning top, i suppose.” he replied.

“great!” you cheered as the game began.

when it came to your turn, everyone was at the brink of either puking or shitting themselves. yet somehow, you remained composed. in-ho took glances of you many times but he couldn’t figure out how you of all people were so calm.

little did he know, you already knew there was no way you would be able to fail these games. for god’s sake, you had the frontman here with you. and if you would’ve guessed? he wasn’t going to stand there and watch you get shot doen by the guards, you knew you already meant more to him than that.

as an act of revenge for your little ‘slip-up’ earlier, in-ho ensured to fail multiple times at his game, making the team even more so uneasy than they already were. he had to admit, it was satisfying to finally see some hints lf fear in your eyes as he failed.

but eventually, the team had made it out alive at the very last second. you let out a deep breath that you were subconsciously holding in.

“scared now?” a voice came from behind.

you whipped your head around, but was only met with the mischievous grin of in-ho.

“are you fuckin’ crazy?!” you practically yelled at him.

in-ho pulled you into the bathroom as the team continued to make their way to the room without you.

“will you shut up?” he scolded, holding you against the wall.

“you’re telling me you did that on purpose?!”

“wasn’t it ‘exciting’?” he mocked you from earlier, causing you to roll your eyes. “and you’re not so innocent too, calling me by my real name in front of everyone like that?”

“it’s my way of flirting.” you joked, snorting a laugh as he gently put you down.

“flirting?”

“yeah, can’t you tell?” you questioned. “and i think it’s starting to rub off on you too.”

you weren’t wrong. in-ho didn’t only find himself liking your cocky remarks more, but he started to copy them too.

“you’re a minx you know that?” he said.

“i know, and you love it.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

a/n: this is a lil twist on the sweetheart!reader x in-ho trope and i think it’s pretty cute! i’m still a sucker for lee byung hum, send help.

[ipilokko]

Okay then 9 14 and 16

Sure thing!

"9- what is their love language?"

Starting with mollie, she basically shows her love via messing with that person.

She gives Roy nicknames, she bullies him, makes jokes about him, throws random things at him, sometimes doodles things on his nails when he's asleep or just idling– have that old lil series of sketches i did on summer

These are the ones i did yesterday vvv

(Roy Hargrove is a Jazz trumpeter and composer that passed away a few years ago)

Though she wouldn't do any of this if she thought Roy didn't enjoy these.

Roy is affectionate, he's actually pretty grabby when he thinks Mollie is in the mood for it. If she's not, even being around her as she minds her own business is enough to bring up his mood. If he's in another room, reading or doing something else, he'd just move on to the room Mollie's in to be closer. Doesn't talk much, just sitting there and looking at her every once in a few sentences, sometimes staring at her for a while.

He chuckles to her jokes, sprinkles compliments on every activity they do together, sometimes being intentionally corny just to put a smile on her face and make her call him corny, taking her out to walk together...

"14-what does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?"

Mollie laughs at anything 😭

Just show her a random stock image, let's say a an eggplant png, she'd loose her. (I'm sorry i gave her my sense of humor 💔 seriously though i remember getting tears from laughing at this exact png on when my art teacher sent it)

ANYWAYS BACK TO THE ACTUAL TOPIC

Okay uh... Sometimes Mollie snorts when she laughs. Other than that i imagine her laugh sounding like...

Uh

Look i have the exact sound playing in my head right now, but I don't know any celebrity i can give as an example but it IS loud. Her laughs are solid " HA HA HA"s and she laughs like she hasn't in a long time, she constantly breaks her laughter with short inhales. She coughes a lot till the end of it.

Roy is not as giggly as Mollie is, though when he finds something funny he mostly has short chuckles than long laughters. His humor is like deadpan humor.

I know exactly who am i giving for his chuckles.

https://youtu.be/D_OKqz4eMgE?si=f1qqa9TfpxZDScy6

Okay maybe he has a little gentler and a little less powerful voice and British accent but THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I PICTURE HIS CHUCKLES SINCE THE DAY ONE

"16- Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?"

Mollie likes to do things on her own in general. But it's because she doesn't want to bother Roy with her constant "put me there, pick me up"s. She relies on him for food... Seriously this girl can't cook. She can manage to cook eggs or toast but that's it. If she could cook though, she'd buy everything canned. Need dough for bread? Why not buy the one that's already prepared from the supermarket? Tomato sauce? Go to the Walmart for christ sakes...

Roy also prefers doing things himself in general, he only asks someone for something only for something he can't do. He needs a new wooden shelf? He does it himself. But has no time? Then orders from a carpenter.

Thanks for the ask!

Link to the ask game

[renn-aissance]

Mom Plays BG3: Ep.2 - “Look at Him, He Wants It”

She’s getting better at moving around. It’s hard to explain but she doesn’t turn the camera to look around before she starts clicking around to move 😀

Mom: “I’m trying to go behind me.”

Me: “You should turn the camera so you can look behind you.”

Mom: “I’m worried I’ll get lost.”

Me: “I know a way to help you from getting lost.”

Both of us: *Silence.*

Me: “The map-“

Mom: “The map.”

Mom: *Slowly turns the camera - Not because she doesn’t know how, she just turns it very slowly for some reason.*

Mom: “I think… I need to walk that way…”

Mom: *Immediately starts clicking the opposite way she wants to go.*

Me: “You can… check the map.”

Mom: *Keeps clicking for a bit then stops.*

Mom: *Checks map.*

Mom: “Oh I’m way off.”

Me (softly): “yeah.”

*Both of us laugh.*

She’s definitely getting the hang of things. She successfully got to Zevlor’s office by herself using the map 🥲 They grow up so fast.

Rundown of what she has done this time:

While we were starting the game up she said “I kept thinking about what happened. It kept me up, I couldn’t sleep just thinking about him (Gale) getting mad. He really rubbed me the wrong way. I don’t know about this guy.”

Saved the kid from the Harpies. Actually, she did that yesterday, but I forgot to add it.

Saved Arabella but after failing two persuasion checks. She was stressed throughout that whole interaction. Before that, she had talked to Arabella’s parents but didn’t know what was going on and told them “thieves deserve to be punished.”

“I didn’t know what they were talking about! To be honest I have no idea what’s going on. Or what any of this means.”

Her first reload. Luckily I had her save before that. She then told them they had their work cut out for them lol.

She took the wyvern toxin from Nettie. (Afterwards I told her “Oh, she tried to kill me when I wouldn’t take it. We fought to the death.” My mom was just like “…Well. Doesn’t mean I have to drink it. I’ll just keep it. I wasn’t gonna take it, are you crazy?”)

We long rested and she talked to all of the companions. I think she really likes Wyll.

Told Zevlor she’d kill Kagha.

She stopped the Tieflings from killing Sazza, but failed a couple of persuasion checks. Left Sazza in the cage.

Sazza: “I don’t need you.”

Mom: “Well… that’s enough of that.”

Also accidentally clicked to search the body of that first Tiefling who died at the gate when the Goblins attacked, and right in front of the one mourning over his body 😬 Gets scolded.

Mom: “I didn’t mean it! Let me see if the other one wants to talk…”

Mom: *clicks on other mourning Tiefling.*

Tiefling: “Can’t you see we’re mourning!”

Mom: “I just came over to say sorry.” (Booked it after lol)

Killed the Bugbear assassin and saved the tiefling by the telescope.

Talked to the Tiefling and learned about soul coins.

When her TAV had the coin in her hand and was looking at it, Gale was in the background smiling.

Mom: *Points at Gale.*

Mom: “Hm. Look at him, he wants it. Uh-uh. This guy’s trouble.”

My mom is not afraid to use the illithid powers. If there’s an option to probe minds, she does it immediately lol.

She went to that area with the spider egg pouch and Raphael showed up there which confused me. (I’ve just always had him show up at the bridge. I had her save). Here’s the thing about my mom - she’s pretty religious and doesn’t like ‘devil’ stuff lol I collect tarot cards and she HATES it lol. It creeps her out. So Raphael shows up and transports her to the House of Hope with the feast on the table and the fireplace. My mom knows nothing about this guy. Her immediate reaction:

Mom: “Now this is more like it.”

I’m sitting behind her so she can’t see my reactions to what she’s doing and I’m losing my shit, wondering if she’ll make the deal or not. She’s been so unpredictable so far so I genuinely don’t know what she’s gonna choose.

Raphael: “What’s better than a devil you don’t know… A devil you do.”

Mom: *Silent.*

Raphael: *blah blah blah wants your soul.*

She doesn’t make the deal. Chooses the options that are like “I would never make a deal with a devil.”

Talks to the companions after and succeeds a check to probe Sharty Bae’s mind.

Talks to Gale last about Raphael.

Mom: “Okay now THIS guy.”

Gale: “Do you feel as flattered as I do? Invited to dine with the devil…”

Mom: “Of course you do.”

Mom: *Turns to me.*

Mom: “This guy.”

Gale made some valid points that she didn’t disagree with. I don’t think that Gale can say ANYTHING without her thinking he’s up to something. He did not make a great first impression lol She did slap his hand before she pulled him out of the portal.

Said he was addicted to magic but still agreed to give him magical items to consume, but she’s not thrilled about the whole thing.

OH YEAH SHE TOLD ROLAN AND THEM TO LEAVE THE GROVE. I’ve done two playthroughs and didn’t do that, so idk if that’s gonna change what happens to the tieflings at all 😬

She also takes time to read whatever notes or books I point out to her. I told her she didn’t have to, but she ignores me to read.

My mom @ Gale:

[utilitycaster]

What you think in retrospect is gonna be the biggest remembered Thing of C3 beyond that "it kinda wasn't that good tbh": something like the Ashton Shard Stuff, Laudna's magic item stealing, the whole "I don't care about the Gods" debates, etc?

If we're not counting like, Downfall or the Vox Machina and Mighty Nein episodes but rather focusing on Bells Hells? There are a few things that I think were genuinely good and the issue is that they all fizzled out or weren't explored:

the actual solstice and the solstice split were both extremely good and if the split parties had actually carried through with any conflict and anger upon their reunion I think it could have transformed the campaign.

the shard was similarly very good and if any of that conflict had been played out and if the lesson had actually stuck and Ashton had explored it? similarly transformative, if kind of late in the game.

FCG's sacrifice is incredible and lends meaning to a fight against a foe who always sucked absolutely ass, and if that had been something the party had sat with and let inform their actions (a la the Nein with Molly's death) that too would have been great.

The Ruidus exploration was really fucking good, and if the party had actually thought about like, what does life look like for Elder Barthie, or Rashinna and Gaz, or Evoroa, or Zhesh, or Asha and Kelito, and what can we do to be kind to them? Similarly transformative.

The shattered teeth interlude in retrospect was kind of a "what was that for even" plot thread but it was fun at least

There's probably more but I was thinking about this post about Dragon Age: The Veilguard last night and I think this is the problem here: Bells Hells have barely any connections to the world and with the exception of Orym, either those connections are also highly powerful people who don't really deal with the world on an interpersonal level (eg: Nana Morri) or we spent virtually no time with those connections they do have (the Nobodies), whereas if you look at Vox Machina and the Mighty Nein, even in the endgame they are thinking about the world around them and the people within it. I think this is also why people are grasping at straws to make this some kind of anticolonial narrative while simultaneously scoffing at Molaesmyr (and uh. about 3000 real people) and weeping over Aeor. There's no space to claim it's a story driven by any sort of empathy for the people of the world - Exandrian nor Ruidian - so it can only be told as a political tale. The problem is the politics don't track either because Bells Hells' grievances boil down a petty nothing, and the text fails to adequately outline any widespread deity-based oppression (at best, it makes a case for destroying the Betrayers, which, again, as the ones who argued for leaving the titans to destroy mortals really screws over the anticolonial metaphor). There were a lot of great opportunities for Bells Hells to develop a love and connection for the world and people around them and to make a decision informed by what would be good for the people of the world, and every single one was ultimately squandered, rushed past, or ignored; but those set-ups were often quite good. If they hadn't been I think the exodus of the fandom from this campaign would have been much more total.

[fangdokja]

Heeeyyyyy it's me again lolll, sooooo have you checked out love and deep space (otome game with fighting monsters)? If not then you should, there are many hot characters there, i was rereading you paternal privileges and thought that "oh this is so zayne(one of the characters from love and deep space)" cuz if he's going to have a twisted side this really matches him well

Yeahhh, heyyyy. Prepare for unstructured Fang Dokja rambling.

Glad to see that you're also enjoying and reading the other stories. Paternal Privilege vibed more in Ao3 than in Tumblr, but I personally liked it as well. One of my first sex stories in general. Got lots of practice in it. And, in Ao3, people loved the ending haha. Thanks for sharing your input on it. It's appreciated :))

OK. I knew I'd get this question one day. And, I know some of you are Love and Deepspace (LaDs) fans (and also K-pop fans, especially you guys, I don't know why you're following me ahahhaha, but it's welcomed. Sorry, don't know much about K-pop like I hardly know DC).

OK SO! Of course I know this game! I played the game it was inspired by, Mr. Love Queen's Choice for more than 3 years! DADDYYYY VICTORRRR. I still have my account, whahhaha. Yes. This is bringing back memories.

And in Love and Deepspace's early release, like official first day, I was there! So, yes, I've played it.

Playstyle and graphics were cool. And, as a competitive gamer in general, ofc it was right up my alley. A bit clunky at first release, needed some adjustments, but generally good. It was way better in terms of graphics than Mr. Love, especially the interface and menus.

Though, I'd say what turned me off is I related more to the MC of Mr. Love than LaDs. Didn't really vibe with the MC of LaDs, a bit too emotional and outspoken for my tastes. Felt ENFJ (sorry, can't relate AT ALL to ENFJ's and ESFJ's especially) not gonna lie hahhahha. But, it's been so long since I played, so sorry if I get details wrong. Anyways...

I was just not vibing with the MC, and low-key plot as well. But, then again, maybe I expected too much. It usually happens when I do. I get so excited than it falls short of my expectations, and then I'm like ehh. So I just low key turn off my brain. It's also to prevent myself from spoiling myself. You have no idea how many times I've unwittingly spoiled myself in ANY fandom! It's genuinely unreal. So, it's like I have to stop thinking so I don't ruin those "huzzah" or "woahhh" moments for myself as a reader or audience.

Ok, back to the topic.

Why am I not making yandere content on it? Simple.

Because of this RULE:

Some characters remind of me of real life people too much, like for example, most “soft” and “green flag characters”. Reminds me of my friend’s boyfriend. And that person is gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. It’s fricking weird. But in general, most reasons I don’t write certain characters is because it reminds me too much of people I know in real life.

My friend and I don't share stories. AT ALL. That includes any fandom, manga, anime, manhwa, video games, etc. There are some exceptions, but usually we have separate fandoms.

So, when I introduced this game to share with my friend. Majority of the characters, from the graphics to their behavior, fit my friend's boyfriend more. Reminded her of him more.

Didn't really find anyone that reminded me of my husband (only 4 main guys before). I do play games, or do anything really to spend time with him. And even in things like this, I do this so I can analyze my husband, think about him and brainstorm, etc. Just basically husband simping for me.

So, in conclusion, probably not gonna talk a lot about Love and Deepspace. And besides, I don't think the MC is like me anyway, so it's fine. I just have to not look at ANY fanart, 'cause man IT IS EVERYWHERE. I have to LITERALLY avoid it like the plague so I don't tempt myself.

Uh... I have a gaming addiction. HAHHAHAHA

Sorry, but strict rules being obeyed here as well in the friendship. We DO NOT SHARE STORIES. End of story. Hope you guys understand, though.

Yes, we're weird.

WARNING: The information below is just extra husband simping. Proceed with caution.

God, I am waiting for official international release of this game ESPECIALLY (when it comes to otome games):

My LORD, I will waiitttttt. If it's possible to release, Your will be done!! haha

As you can tell, I'm weak to muscles ahahahahahahhahahaha. Why? I love my husband so much, he's so handsome. I am weak.

OSBORN I JUST KNOW IT'S OSBORN aghhhh. especially him. But seriously. huuu well, my husband doesn't like talking about himself with anyone else besides me, so just have to use "analogies" like characters lollll.

Though, none can compare to my husband, of course. He's leagues above anyone else huuuuuuu. I love him so much.

I also told you guys. I relate to these memes. VERY. VERY. VERY MUCH.

You have no idea.

WAHAHHAHAH.

*exposes self*

But, I just love my husband so much. So, so, so much.

Yandere! Stepfather & Stepdaughter

Novella 1 : Paternal Privilege

He’s your family, but he doesn’t act like it.

🔞Pleasure in every strike, pain in every kiss.

🔞In the end, love is both their salvation and their damnation.

🔞His love is suffocating, but she’s forgotten how to breathe without it.

🔞Love shouldn’t feel like drowning, but he’s the only one who can save her.

She fell, but not by accident. He made sure of it.

[satureja13]

Jeb picked Sai up after his shift and they headed upstairs to the game room of Moogie's Bar. Sai was excited. Will Jeb watch the stars with him like Jack and Vlad did? How romantic!

But they walked past the loveseat with a view. Sai: "Hm? What is it then?" Jeb: "Look around the corner."

Sai: "My gaming corner?! How did you get all my stuff here?" Jeb: "I asked Noxee to sent it."

Jeb knows how much Sai needs his alone time. Jeb: "Since you don't have a room for yourself here on board, I thought you'd like to have a space of your own. Where you could do your computer stuff in peace. No one will disturb you here." Sai: "Omg Jeb! This just feels like home far away from home!"

Sai: "Thank you."

Jeb: "I'll leave you alone now. Have fun!" Sai: "Oh, I will!" All the things he can do now! The only computers on board are in the community areas or at the bridge - and there's always commotion. This corner migh be small, but it's quiet and no one will come up here once they'd started the engines and there's nothing to see out there except for the dark-greyish subspace. This is heaven for Saiwa. And Jeb made it happen.

Except - Sai didn't have fun. Did Jeb just shove him away? Stored him in the furthest corner of the ship? Sai knows how much Jeb wanted him to move into his apartment at their home in Tomarang. Did he change his mind? Sai knows Jeb too well, he probably thinks he's not good enough to be with him - again... Because Sai wants nothing more than to loose his virginity to Jeb - but Jeb can't give him what he craves.

After Jeb left Sai to have some fun in his new computer corner, he went over to his best friend, Kiyoshi. To pour his heart out.

But he's busy with Jack... again... Jeb: "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll leave." Kiyoshi: "Don't worry. Stay."

And of course Sai was right. Even after being together for so long and after talking about this so often - Jeb still thinks Sai is too precious for him... But luckily Sai's oldest friend, Jack, is here. Jack knows how much Sai loves Jeb and that he can't live without him. Sai will never give up. Neither Jeb - nor his plans to finally lose his virginity - to Jeb. And: Jack also knows that the solution for their problem is already in the works. But also - as hard as it is for 'Big Snout Jack' - he can't spill the beans ö.ö So even though it's killing him inside, Jack said: "Don't worry, Jeb. Some things you just can't force. And there's nothing you can do than to just sit it out, hm? Have faith." (TMI: This is actually one of the hardest things for me. Learn more about this (imo) important topic -> here) Jeb: "Uhm, ok..." Kiyoshi seems a bit stunned by Jack saying words of wisdom. But even this happens from time to time :3

Meanwhile Sai left his new gaming corner. He can't just sit around here and do his computer stuff in peace - he's a man on a mission. He went to their quarters - to find them empty. So he took the chance to take a bath to play with the toys again. Soon he'll be ready for Jeb's 'wand'. And it didn't hurt a bit to this point - given you take your time and go slow and prepare thoroughly, just like Jack and Ji Ho - and later also Kioyshi - told him. Plus Sai and Jeb still practise their Tantra each day. They are able to dive in the deepest state of bliss when they make out. Jeb won't even notice it's not Sai's hands on his 'wand' when the time comes. And then finally, finally Sai will give his virginity to his beloved - but oh so hesistant - Jeb.

Uh - oh. The door. Jeb is back ö.ö' Sai wanted to have finished before he returned. Now Jeb will think he kept all the fun for himself - again...

(I usually never post pics with the walls down - but Sai really tensed when Jeb entered ^^')

Sai took the face mask off. Time to face Jeb...

Sai: "I'll just get dressed and than I'll give you my very special thank you present for my gaming corner!" Jeb: "Uhm - ok..." Jeb's mood was damped since he overheard Sai in the bathroom last time. He feels like he isn't man enough for Sai when he has to pleasure himself... without him.

But when Sai stepped out of the bathroom, he took Jeb's breath away. Jeb whispered: "You look so hot." Sai: "But I shouldn't have put those damn plastic pants on over my still damp skin in a hurry!"

Jeb: "Gods are you hurt? Wait, I'll heal you." Sai: "No need to. Let's go to our bedroom. I'll just take them off again - slowly ;) " Jeb: "Are you sure you - you are ready to - to ...do it again?"

Sai: "I didn't go all the way in there. I'll just go there together with you." Jeb: "Vanië..."

Sai: "Let's take these clothes off."

And a few minutes later, Sai took Jeb to the realms of pleasure and bliss.

'… Loving you Isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things That I feel?

… If I could Baby, I'd give you my world How can I When you won't take it from me?

… You can go your own way Go your own way You can call it Another lonely day You can go your own way Go your own way

Tell me why Everything turned around Packing up Shacking up is all you want to do'

Fleetwood Mac - Go your own Way

Outtakes

When they entered the game room and Vlad stood behind them - grinning creepily - and Sai was about to start hissing ö.Ö' Poor Jeb ^^'

Sai telling Jeb he is going to go nowhere until he's finished with him hahaha

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

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