#and then you barely show him OR the guy!!!!!!!

[beloveds-embrace]

Poly 141 x neighbour!reader: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! (Or in your case, the way to four men’s heart is through their stomach)

It started with cookies.

You’d been in the middle of baking a double batch- oatmeal chocolate chip, your personal favorite- and realized halfway through scooping them onto the tray that you’d made far too many for one person. It wasn’t unusual. Baking was how you coped with stress, and ever since you’d moved into this apartment building, stress had been in no short supply.

The guy in 4A had blared music all night. Your hot water barely lasted five minutes. And your smoke detector had developed a habit of chirping at odd hours.

But there was one bright spot- your neighbors in 4C.

You’d seen them coming and going. Tall, broad, and always carrying duffel bags that looked far too heavy to be legal. They kept odd hours, too, but never caused trouble. One of them- Johnny, you’d learned later- had even held the door open for you when your arms were full of groceries.

Which was why you’d stood outside their door that evening, balancing a plate of cookies and feeling like an idiot as you knocked.

Not-Johnny had answered first, blinking down at you in surprise, though his smile was warm and he was beautiful. You couldn’t blame him; you had barely spoken to them more than a few short words.

“Uh… hi?”

“Hi.” You forced a smile. “I’m your neighbor from 4B. I, uh… made too many cookies?”

His eyes dropped to the plate immediately, and you swore you saw something primal flicker behind them. Still, you worried.

“I mean, if you don’t want-”

“No! No, we want. Come in- Johnny! Get over here!”

And that was how it started.

The second time had been lasagna.

You’d just finished assembling it when you realized- again- that you’d made too much. So, after psyching yourself up for ten minutes, you’d knocked on their door for the second time in as many weeks.

Price, who had introduced himself along wuth Simon the day you dropped off the cookies, had answered that time, his expression guarded until he saw the foil-covered pan in your hands.

“You’re joking,” he’d said, but when you started to retreat, he’d stopped you with a firm, but gentle hand on your back. He had such a nice, big hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, lovie. Get in here.”

That night, you’d sat at their table, sharing stories and laughter while they cleaned the dish down to the last crumb.

After that, it became routine.

You started “testing recipes,” and they became your eager guinea pigs.

And they never seemed to mind.

And now…

The smell hit first- roasted garlic, browned butter, and something rich simmering low and slow. It snuck out from the slightly cracked kitchen window and spilled into the shared hallway of the apartment building. For men used to MREs and takeout, it was practically siren song.

Gaz was the first to notice, lingering just outside the door labeled 4B- your door- with an almost predatory focus. He wasn’t proud of it, but his stomach growled so loud that Soap- rounding the corner with a gym bag slung over his shoulder- laughed outright.

“You stalking the neighbor again?”

“Shut up. You smell that?”

Soap inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat before snapping open.

“Jesus wept- what is that?!”

“I don’t know, but I’m this close to knocking.” Kyle held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

“She already fed us last week, mate. Dinna push it.”

“But what if she’s testing another recipe?”

Gaz wasn’t wrong. You had a habit of showing up at their door with dishes too good to refuse.

They hadn’t stood a chance.

After the cookies and the lasagna, it wasn’t long before other dishes followed: casseroles, soups, pies, and even homemade bread. And the worst part? You bow always prefaced it by saying you needed an opinion- like they were doing you the favor.

It wasn’t until Price called you a “bloody saint” over a pan of enchiladas that Ghost finally put it together.

“You’re using us as taste testers,” he’d said flatly.

You’d grinned- too cute and too smug for your own good. “Is that a problem?”

Not a single one of them had said no, just as stated before.

Which led them here, hovering outside your door and pretending they weren’t waiting for another offering.

“… Fine.” Soap muttered, raising his hand to knock.

But the door swung open before he could, and there you were- apron on, hair pulled back, and flour dusted across your cheek.

“Hi!” You chirped, eyes bright. “Perfect timing!”

Gaz’s grin was pure relief. “Tell me you need opinions. Please, love.”

You laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “I always need opinions. Come in!”

Inside, the kitchen was chaos. Cutting boards and mixing bowls were scattered across the counters. A Dutch oven bubbled on the stove, releasing clouds of savory steam. Plates of food- half-assembled sandwiches, stuffed peppers, and what looked like chocolate tarts- sat waiting.

“I… might’ve gone overboard.” You admitted, and if you hadn’t spent all day in the kitchen, your cheeks would’ve gone warmer.

Soap whistled low, eyes raking over every dish. “Not complainin’.”

Price arrived just then, texted by Kyle, trailed closely by Simon, who took one look at the spread and froze. His eyes swept from the roasted chicken resting under a blanket of fresh herbs to the still-warm biscuits stacked beside a bowl of honey butter.

“What’s the occasion?” John asked, smile amused, but you just waved him off.

“Practicing.”

Gaz was already halfway to the table, trying to decide what to start with, but Simon lingered, watching you carefully. He had his balaclava on, though you haven’t yet dared to ask why he wears it.

“Practicing for what, exactly?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your apron. “There’s this… thing next week. A community bake-off. And I thought it might be fun to enter.”

Soap arched a brow. “You’re entering this in a bake-off?”

“Well, not all of it. I’m still deciding which dishes to use.”

“You’re winning.” Kyle said immediately, filling his plate.

“Definitely.” Johnny added, already reaching for a sandwich.

Simon, still lingering, crossed his arms and stared down at you. His height will never, ever not make your breath hitch. “You’re testing all of this on us?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, pouting just a little. “You don’t mind, do you, Simon?”

His gaze darkened- not in anger, but something softer, heavier. It made your stomach flip.

“No,” he said simply. “We don’t mind.”

You swallowed and turned quickly to the oven to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

The next hour passed in a blur of taste testing, arguments over which dish was best, and repeated assurances that you were going to “blow the competition out of the water.” But beneath the laughter and teasing, you failed to catch the way they looked at you- how Price lingered by the stove just to steal extra bites, or how Johnny kept offering to help, hovering close enough that you brushed elbows more than once.

And Simon? He was the worst of all. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked your every move, following the way your hands worked the dough or wiped flour off the counter. He was the last to leave, hanging back as the others helped clear plates.

“You’re serious about this bake-off?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Thought it might be fun.”

“You don’t need it.”

“… What?”

He gestured at the now-empty plates. “To prove anything, I mean. You’re already…” He trailed off for a few seconds, and though you were left blinking at him, you didn’t rush him. “Good enough.” he murmured at last.

The compliment hit harder than you expected, and for once, you didn’t have a clever response.

“Thank you, Simon. That… means a lot to me.” you said softly.

And just like that, the others reappeared, breaking the moment. Johnny patted Simon’s shoulder with a knowing smirk, and Kyle slung an arm around your shoulders, while Price merely watched. Your kitchen was now spotless, cleaned by them.

“When’s the next test run?” Gaz asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, let us know. We’re free anytime.”

“Yeah,” Soap added. “Anytime.”

You laughed but this time, you didn’t miss the way Price was looking at you- thoughtful, like he’d already made up his mind about something.

The door clicked shut behind them after that, leaving your apartment quieter but no less warm. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you surveyed the spotless kitchen. They’d made quick work of the mess, trading jokes and lighthearted jabs as they wiped down counters and stacked dishes in quite the uniform style.

You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve neighbors like them, but you weren’t about to question it.

You caught yourself humming as you tucked away the last plate, the sound of their laughter still echoing faintly in your ears. It was easy with them- comfortable in a way that felt rare and almost too good to be true.

And maybe it was.

Because what you didn’t know- what you would probably never know, such a sweet and trusting thing- was that your apartment had been wired within days of your first visit to their door.

To them, it had started with a conversation.

“She’s alone,” Price had said after the second time you’d brought them food, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative frown. “No sign of anyone else coming or going.”

“Security’s shite.” Gaz had added, gesturing vaguely toward the shared hallway where your lock barely functioned half the time.

Soap had shrugged, easygoing as ever, but his eyes had been sharp. “Better us keep an eye on her than let some arsehole get the chance.”

And that was that.

Price had ordered the equipment, Ghost had handled the installation, and none of them had lost sleep over it. Not when it meant keeping you safe.

It wasn’t just the cameras, either.

Simon had reinforced your locks under the guise of “fixing” them after you mentioned a struggle with your key. Johnny had talked you into letting him check your windows “just to be sure they latched properly.” Gaz had set up an app on your phone to “monitor deliveries,” though it also let them track your location if needed.

And Price? He always lingered at the door just long enough to ask if you needed anything else- subtle, but enough to make sure you knew they were there.

You never questioned it. Never noticed the way they moved like a unit around you, anticipating problems before they could arise. Never caught the glances they exchanged when you mentioned a repairman or the way Simon hovered near the window any time a car idled too long outside.

You just kept feeding them, trusting them in ways that only made their resolve deepen.

Price was the worst.

He’d leaned against the counter tonight, watching you laugh at Johnny’s jokes and swat at Kyle when he tried to sneak extra bites, and the thought had hit him harder than he expected, while Simon watched on in amusement and was the only to successfully swipe a few more bites.

They could’ve had this already.

If life had gone differently- if timing had been better- you could’ve been his. Theirs. Someone to come home to instead of just someone they visited between deployments.

He hadn’t said anything, of course. None of them had.

But as they left, he’d lingered in the doorway, letting his hand rest lightly against the frame.

“Don’t let ‘em eat it all before the bake-off,” he’d teased, lips curling into a smile. “They’ll start begging if you do.”

You’d laughed, and God, it was dangerous how much he liked the sound.

“I’ll make sure to keep them in line.”

His smile softened. “Good girl.”

You didn’t notice the way Simon shot him a sharp look at that- or the way Johnny and Kyle exchanged knowing grins.

And later, when Price sat down in front of the monitors to check the feeds, he didn’t let himself feel guilty.

Because you were safe.

And as far as they were concerned, that was all that mattered.

[crimsonmochi]

Personal ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, cunnilingus, slight choking, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, a little bit pathetic, and a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, no beta

Word Count. 3.9k

A/N. baby's first jjk fic, be gentle </3 please give me feedback and lmk if i forgot some tags :3 reposts encouraged!

Rain dribbled and splattered on the window, the tiny water beads reflecting and refracting the dim light from Satoru's phone. He sat upright on his bed, muscular back against the headboard, upper arms aching from his last session two days prior. He had reluctantly agreed to participate in a "professional"―which, to Satoru, was just a word for more work, smaller pay―shoot with some girl he could barely remember the name of.

The result? The director had barked at him to put himself in impossible positions for the camera's sake, which left his limbs sore and not in a good way. Satoru forced the scene to end, left with his money and a vow to himself to never ever work for studios again. He hated being told what to do, especially from guys who don't actually have what it takes.

While painkillers and a nice massage from the spa below his apartment complex did not eradicate the pain, it did make it much more tolerable.

Satoru's thumb swiped across the screen, scrolling through comments from his latest post, a message to his subscribers asking for content ideas. Sure, he did not like being told what to do, but being kindly suggested by his fans to fulfill their desires was different. In the end, he was still in control.

And it probably won't land him in a pharmacy either.

The request that Satoru found came up the most was for him to do ASMR; some fans wanted to hear those pretty praises, those filthy words he gives to his co-stars, spoken to them instead. Although the idea was alluring, Satoru would rather be on camera than behind a fancy microphone in a recording booth—primarily because he was too proud to opt out of showing his god-crafted body (that cocky bastard). But then again, he could find a way to do both...

He shelved that idea for later.

Other requests were suggestions of people to shoot with. Some popular names came up, women and men he had already filmed with and didn't find too interesting. He could fake it, of course; he was an actor, it was half of his job―but he would be unsatisfied with the end result.

Satoru was about to quit reading requests, bored and uninspired until his cerulean eyes stuck themselves to a particular comment. The space between his eyebrows creased as his eyebrows furrowed. It was a subscriber recommending another star, explaining how they weren't very well known, but they believed them and Satoru would make a great pair.

The wording was not what caught his attention, he had gotten plenty of requests with the same exact sentence before. No, it was the name, your page's name―which, to Satoru, felt familiar yet distant. He hadn't shot with you before, no, that wasn't it. Yet he was certain he knew you, knew of you at least.

His thumb reached for the search bar to type in your alias, his eyelids flickering when his gaze fell on your profile, your soft face on display. Satoru felt his length chub up in his boxers, soft lips parting to accommodate for a sudden need of oxygen.

Just as his subscriber said, you were less popular than him, with less than half the number of subscribers he had and an inarguably cheaper paywall in front of your content. Memories of happily searching for his new credit card numbers to pay for your videos came back rushing to him, memories only a few months old.

Satoru recalled seeing a preview and being immediately smitten by your pretty figure, your plush thighs and your tummy, that tiny thrill in your eyes. Fuck, how he had spent half of his revenue giving you tips on an anonymous account―just to obtain a personalized picture of just those pretty thighs, fisting his aching cock to that image for days.

Just looking at that profile again, oh my god.

His eyes laid on the subscription button. He did not even bother getting on an alt account this time to press it, watching the confirmation request pop up on his screen to gather his fingerprint in order to complete the purchase. When the paywall finally went away, Satoru let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, his hand travelling to his boxers, palming himself through his briefs as he scrolled.

And oh, he was gone again.

Satoru had never sent a message to his agent that frantically in his life, asking her―no, begging her to contact you to secure a shoot with you. Asked her to do whatever she could to get you in the studio.

The next few days went by without a reply from your part, and Satoru was going mad. He could not remember being this nervous for anyone, this needy. In between sessions of overthinking (maybe he should have asked you himself or maybe offered something more), he found himself replaying videos of yours he had already seen, notably the ones with other men. He knew them by heart.

Those guys didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as much as you needed, as much as you deserved. It pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible, yet made him so hard; He knew he could fuck you so much better than those amateurs you were with, pleasure you in ways they wouldn't even dare.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you were just intimidated by his offer. Too much money from too big of a creator and an offer that seemed too good to be real to not hold a catch, which is why you did not answer right away, anxiously weighing the implications. It wasn't until he, in a moment of pure desperation and haze, shot you a private message confirming the offer that you replied, shyly agreeing.

From then on, Satoru could barely contain himself, daydreaming about everything he could do to you with his left hand eagerly moving up and down his cock, breathy exhales escaping his mouth and shaky fists gripping his bedsheets. Too often, he found himself checking the calendar on his phone, awaiting the shoot date, disappointed every time that it was still the 15th instead of the long-awaited 21st. Satoru Gojo did not exactly believe himself to be a patient man.

He sent you little messages throughout the week with ideas and reassuring messages. He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, what you thought of him, how your body worked, and how he could get you to whine and moan for him.

On the day of the shoot, Satoru was almost unrecognizable to others involved―his agent and the friends he'd stopped to visit on his way to his studio. The man people had described as cocky, overly confident, and self-absorbed was reduced to a nervous, lost-in-thought mess. All because of you, the pretty little thing he would get to have his hands on later that evening.

He'd showered three times, spent too long in his room figuring out what clothes to wear, as if that would matter, and freaked out over his hair. His hair.

And when you finally arrived at the studio with your assistant, he nearly forgot how to breathe. That, or he was purposely holding back for fear of scaring you off, this cute little thing before him. You introduced yourself, pretty eyes gazing up at him, taking a second to admire each and every one of his features. As soon as he saw your smile, here in person, he told himself he could die happy.

Well, he could die happy after having a taste of you.

You were shy while introducing yourself to him. The interaction could easily have been misread as awkwardness, and that was what Satoru would have gone with, too, if he didn't know any better (if he didn't think so highly of himself). Your softer voice, your pretty eyes, god, those eyes. He could tell you might've had a tiny crush on him as well, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his head reel.

Your assistant all but confirmed it when you excused yourself to the restroom, admitting that you hadn't stopped gushing about this opportunity since you got it.

And when you got back, he had the most annoying smirk and glint in his eyes, looking down at you.

After discussing what he wanted for the scene, making sure you were comfortable and willing to participate―a gentleman, truly, asked you so many times that you started chuckling your answers―he had his agent and your assistant leave the studio after you agreed to dismiss them. He did not mind an audience, but he wanted this to be personal.

"I film all my own shit anyways," he hummed, hopping behind the camera to adjust the angle.

In the film room of the studio was a bedroom set with a queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a wooden frame. A sliding-door closet with mirrors stood tall on the left side, and a bedside table on the right.

The scene you and Satoru agreed upon was vanilla, but he was pleased with the gist of it. Any way he could have you is a way he'd be pleased with, however. It didn't really matter how for the time being.

You sat in the middle of the bed, your back against the cold headboard and palms against the soft sheets, gazing at Satoru as he grumbled at the camera, shifting through the studio to find a new battery with his lips pursed in a pout. It amused you, seeing a different side of him.

It was only three minutes later that he climbed onto the bed, knees against the mattress as he moved towards you, those blue eyes staring at your frame through those pale lashes. He moved to straddle you, his back straight, his body looming over yours.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," mumbled Satoru, his hand firmly landing on the headboard to support himself, making a louder sound than he intended. "You tell me if I'm too much for you, alright, pretty?" he followed in a softer tone.

You nodded, the pad of your index landing on his shoulder and travelling down his torso, trailing close to the sweatpants he wore. Satoru reached his own unoccupied palm to your face, his fingers hooking themselves at the nape of your neck to pull you towards him. His nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips with his.

Satoru had never felt drunk on a kiss until you entered his studio.

As if a switch flipped in his head, he kept you closer to him, desperate and unwilling to pull away from your lips. He breathed shakily, his minty breath fanning over your mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this," he laughed, an arrogant laugh that made your pussy ache.

"Yeah?" you murmured.

"Yeah."

The hand on your cheek moved to your throat, squeezing at the sides―not enough to hurt, just to make oxygen sparse in your system. "I'll make you feel good, sweetheart, hm? I'll do better than those fucking losers on your page."

The sweetest words said oh so cruelly.

Although it was increasingly hard for you to think, you were able to click the pieces together pretty quick, your eyes widening and your pupils dilating.

'Fourth wall break wasn't part of the plan.

Oh.

He watched.'

Satoru's gaze had changed. Deep, yet precise in conveying the exact energy desired. A short, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and fuck, he fed on that, on your reactions to him, no matter how small or insignificant. It mattered to him.

Warm fingers slipped under your the black camisole hugging your body before you could even notice his hand had left your throat, caressing your skin until he his the jackpot, massaging the same breasts he had spent hours looking at only within the past week.

"Oh-ho— nothing, no bra for me?" Satoru chuckled. He captured your nipple between his index and his thumb, rolling and pinching at it until it pebbled, drawing out a whimper from your lungs.

Satoru was fascinated by what he had under his hand, taking a too-curious approach to exploring, as if he had never seen or felt another body before this point in his life. He took his time to gently remove the fabric off of your body, imagining all the ways he could bind and explore it, worship it, cum all over those pretty tits—

It wasn't until he felt your soft hands trying to discard his shirt that he snapped out of his haze, realizing he was fucking up the pacing.

Satoru latched his mouth to one of your breasts, biting and sucking gingerly while he focused on getting you out of those tight leggings you wore just for him, that truly left nothing to the imagination. He frantically worked to get those white laced panties out of the way with a tad more force than he should have, causing a tear to rip into the fabric.

"Satoru—" you gasped, only halfway acting.

"I'll get you another pair," he groaned against your chest, licking over one of the bite marks he had left before unlatching to look down.

Satoru's brain short-circuited.

Sure, he's seen your body time and time over, but that had only ever been through the careful separation of a screen, a paywall. It was different to have access to it, to be able to touch and feel.

He thanked his earlier self for asking if he could eat you out, for now, getting to have your supple thighs around his face and neck. Fuck, he could really die happy now.

Satoru caught sight of your dripping cunt, juices dripping and latching onto your skin. He felt hungry for what seemed to be the first time in his life, moving down your body to kiss right over your mound, your scent filling his senses.

"Oh, s-shit, look at that," said Satoru.

Had he just stuttered?

He nudged his nose in between your folds, brushing against your clit with a swiftness that made your figure jolt. He chuckled, moving his arms to trap your hips and pin them to the mattress, muscles flexing under his skin to intimidate.

"God, she wants me so bad."

Satoru languidly licked up and down your slit, careful to miss your sensitive bud in the meanest way. He whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, sweet in a natural way, catching both you and himself off guard. If his face wasn't buried in your cunt, you could have seen the faint blush creep to the surface of his cheeks.

"You ever had someone do this, sweet'art?" he mumbled against your heat, lips finally latching on to your clit.

"N-No, not really," you sighed.

"Mh," Satoru hummed disapprovingly, toying with the bundle of nerves between his teeth, one of his arms sneaking away from your hips. He teased his ring finger at your entrance. "You're, fuck- fuck― you're so― taste so good..."

He pushed his finger past the ring of muscle until he was knuckles deep, groaning before he returned his mouth to your clit, sucking in small intervals as he pumped in and out of your velvety walls. Satoru whined when your hand flew to his hair.

And when you moaned for him, he was a goner. He noticed the usually loud and audibly altered sounds had turned saccharine and almost timid.

You had been faking your moans?

He snickered at his realization, breaching through the noise of your moans and the quiet slurps. "I think she loves me," said Satoru in between breaths.

"Wha-, who―"

"Wasn't talking to you, love." Satoru's words drastically contrasted with his soft tone.

He punctuated his sentence by curling his digits to find and abuse that spongey spot, earning a string of nonsense words and whines from you, only encouraging his endeavour. The soft squelch of your pussy around his fingers and his mouth was enough to drive him to buck his hips toward the mattress.

When Satoru felt your soft thighs tighten around his head, he forced himself to pull away, grunting as you desperately moved to grip your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him there. If he hadn't had such strong convictions, he might have stayed down there for the rest of his life, dying happy with his face buried in your pretty cunt.

Satoru straightened his form, his fingers pulling out to find your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. You protested, whining pathetically.

"I know, I know, sweet girl, I'm sorry. Wanna... wanna have you cum on my cock. Can y'do that love? Want you all over me.."

He was mumbling, staring into your eyes with his pupils blown wide. The blue of his irises was overtaken by those black orbs, capturing you in his sight. His chin was wet and dripping, and his lips were slightly swollen.

A gorgeous mess for you to gaze upon.

Satoru's eyes dropped down to the sweatpants he threw on earlier (and called Suguru about just to make sure it looked "casual but not fuckboy"―Suguru called him a dumbass and hung up), carefully bunching up the fabric as well as his boxers before pushing down. Hissing as his length perked up, angry and weeping pre, he breathed a little heavier than before, his shoulders rising and falling. Satoru hadn't felt this worked up in months, maybe years, all from this.

For you.

And you would not be lying saying that had to be the prettiest dick you'd ever seen.

"Shit― look at that, hah," Satoru softly chuckled. "Lift your legs up f'me, pretty, come on.."

He grinned down at you as he helped you push your knees up to your limit, delicately placing your ankles on his shoulders and leaning his torso forward. Satoru placed one of his palms behind your cranium, a small yet protective measure.

"This okay?" asked Satoru, nudging his tip against your folds, collecting your slick to drench his cock, gliding over your clit.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine..."

It was rare for you to be nervous, given that you were used to having sex, filming it, and posting it for hundreds to see. Intercourse was not something you had any insecurities about. Usually.

What caught you off guard was the look in Satoru's eyes, the way he carried himself with a gentleness foreign to anything you've seen from him.

Satoru leaned down to press kisses against your jawline, open-mouthed and delicate, exhaling as he guided his length past your entrance, satisfied at the small gasp he heard from your lips.

"Oh my god, it's even fucking better than I imagined," said Satoru, his voice strained.

He could feel the stretch, your walls fluttering to accommodate him, still so tight and fuck―the tiny high-pitched, almost inaudible whimpers that escaped your throat.

"Don't know if I'll be able to pull out, sweet girl, hah―shit―she's sucking me in, look."

"Then don't," you mumbled, turning your head to meet his lips.

"You can't say shit like that," Satoru scoffed.

"Why not? I want it."

If you were simply pretending for the camera, that was some damn good acting. Good enough to turn Satoru into putty in your hold, to shut his brain off and make him act on instinct alone, script be damned.

Satoru pushed in until his pelvis hit your flesh, his hold on you faltering in strength momentarily, a helpless expression on his face. He listened to your quiet whines, his free hand returning to your clit in hopes of easing the strain.

"Just fuckin' perfect, holy fuuuck―" he strained out.

He withdrew his fingers from your clit to taste you once more, addicted. He drew his hips back slowly, just enough to leave about an inch inside, before thrusting back in at a slightly faster pace, setting a rather slow, intimate rhythm for you to follow.

Satoru watched as your breath picked up, how the slow rock of his hips made your eyes unfocus, and your mouth hang open. He watched as your forehead started to sweat, how your hair moved along his movements.

More importantly, Satoru listened. He heard those moans, shakier and uncalculated. He knew he wasn't crazy earlier when he had the reflection that you had been faking them.

Actually pathetic, those "men" you had been with.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" Satoru mumbled, out of his mind. Like he was a schoolboy talking to his second-period crush. "So pretty... s'not fair..."

"H-Huh―?"

"S'not fair how it's gonna be―mh, shit―over, how s'gonna be over."

Satoru angled his hips differently, aiming for that spongey spot he had found earlier. That said, he would have had to be able to think straight to get it on the first try; which he could not, not when he was buried deep inside your cunt.

"W-What―aah, fuck, Satoru~"

You couldn't recall any shoots you had done―or any sex you had had at all, actually―that felt as good as Satoru.

"Right there, right? S'that i-it?"

He drove his movements faster, his pelvis hitting the back of your thighs and your ass with a louder SMACK! than it did previously, his breaths becoming further shallow and desperate. His skin grew increasingly damp as his efforts increased, and what were previously grunts turned to shameless moans, whines and whimpers, wanton and needy.

The man was losing his mind, so unlike anything you had seen from him.

Satoru's thrusts soon became erratic and uncoordinated, his face buried in your neck, drinking all of the sounds you were making like he was getting drunk on them.

"Can't... won't last l-long, okay? M'sorry I can't..." Satoru wailed.

His hand found your breast, flicking at your nipple in hopes of making you cum faster, needing to feel you. You were teetering on the edge, and he could feel it, feel how your pussy drew him in.

"Y'know you've been― y'been teasing me for two fuckin' weeks―aah... shitshitshit, so so g-good―two weeks." He paused to groan, pinching your flesh between his index and thumb to elicit a reaction from you. "Can't get enough of you, you're so―and you know it, you fuckin' know it too, I-I know y'do."

"Satoru! So close, please d-don't stop," you yelped, walls constricting around his length.

"Y-Yeah, pretty, I know, fuck―I know, sweet thing. I got you," Satoru panted and tightened his grip on the back of your head as if to brace for impact. "Y'do know how to drive me fuckin' crazy, with―mh, you're so soft and pretty, m-makes me want to quit the business, make you my own, God, make you my pretty wife."

Satoru's mind was running on overdrive, trying to keep up with what the fuck he was saying and making sure you felt good, as good as him. No easy task.

"Shit, gonna make you mine, I promise, fuck―"

His his stuttered as he spilled himself inside you, crying out like a wounded animal. It felt too good, it was too much.

Satoru kept going, although fucked out of his mind, determined to make you cum. He lapped up the sweat from your neck, not caring if it was nasty, while he reached down to your clit once more, slapping the sensitive bud a few times, stopping when he felt your cunt constrict and clench around him, a nice little ring of creamy mixed arousal forming at the base of his cock, gliding down your ass and spilling on the bedsheets.

"Such a mess, oh my God," Satoru whined.

He gathered some on two of his fingers, wiping it right off of your skin. "Taste it f'me, pretty," Satoru groaned.

He could have ascended to heaven right then as you wrapped your lips around his digits, glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

"I gotta keep you."

pt. 2?

[777sturn]

𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 | 𝐜hris 𝐬turniolo . . .

(⊹ֹ 𝐢𝐧 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 ) ──── ⟢

❛ you and chris always compete in car races. on and off the tracks you two always clashed heads because of jealousy and envy. the wins would go back and forth between you two and he had enough of it, he wanted the win. so, he finds a way to make you lose. ❜

˖ ࣪⊹ pairing. racer!chris x fem!reader

⊹₊ ⋆ warning(s). smut, mature language, fingering (f receiving), boob play, angst, unprotected rough sex, p in v, degrading (a little)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ jules’ message. this has been marinating in my drafts since the summer and it was originally supposed to be a matt one shot BUT chris got his license sooo… here it is! also i barely know anything about cars, only the one suki drives in 2f2f so PLEASE bare with me. anywho, STAY FREAKY

it was pretty late at night as you were at the race track. you were currently infront of your hot pink race car, double-checking the engine for the race that was taking place tomorrow. the pink embellishment and the white details perfectly fit your aesthetic. you hum to yourself as you take out the dipstick to check the oil.

suddenly, your peaceful aura was soon interrupted with the familiar revving from none other than chris sturniolo— your enemy on and off the track. you let out a groan and watched as his dark blue porsche pull up beside your car. you could practically see that stupid smirk he always wore through his tinted windows.

you threw your matching pink car towel over your shoulder before crossing your arms and eyeing him down as he stepped out his car. as soon as you see his camo pants, you immediately roll your eyes.

“quit poutin’,” he mumbles in a raspy tone, “save it for tomorrow.”

“i’m gonna be smiling tomorrow, actually.” you correct him, turning back to face your engine. he let’s out a scoff as he steps closer to you and your vehicle.

“you gotta let me win, ma.” he whispers, leaning against the open hood of your car as he watched you inspect the engine, “i just know that there’s gonna be hot chicks in the stands and i wanna show off that bad boy,” he hums, nodding towards the direction of his car.

you give him a look and shake your head, “and i know there’s gonna be the sexiest guys on the planet in the stands too. and my car isn’t the only thing i wanna show off.”

chris rolls his eyes at your snarky comment before his eyes roamed down your body— all the way from your white tube top to your denim skirt that hugged your curves perfectly before dangerously stopping right below your ass. he clicks his tongue before nodding, “aight” he mumbles before moving off your car to stand behind you. “your oil is low.” he hums, reaching over to grab the dipstick from your hand.

“no it’s not.” you mumble, “i literally got it changed last week.”

chris just shrugs and takes the towel off your shoulder— his fingers slightly lingering on your bare skin for a little bit longer than he intended to. he gently dabs the stick on the towel to check the crevices, “it’s low.” he repeats, putting the dipstick back into it’s place, “looks like you’re gonna lose, princess.” he taunts as he swung the towel back on your shoulder before his hands found their way to your waist.

“i’ll be fine.” you huff, as you look up at him, “and i will win.”

“mhm.” he hums nonchalantly, “your car won’t turn on now.” he tests, the stupid smirk returning to his lips.

“says who?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“me,” he answers, mocking your exact tone. chris then steps away from you before swinging open the driver’s door. he was now met with a baby pink leather interior that coordinated with the design on the exterior of your car, “it looks like a fucking toddler threw up in here.” he mumbles as he slides into the driver’s seat.

you cross your arms as you stand in front of the door, “don’t drive my car.” you mutter.

“i can’t.” he reminds, pressing the button that was supposed to start your car, but nothing happened, “your battery or engine is dead and the oil is low.” he points out, scoffing.

“are you deadass?” you groan in annoyance.

chris nods and smirks as he motions his fingers towards him, gesturing you to come closer to take a look at the bright pink warning symbols yourself. subconsciously, your hand was now planted on his thigh to support yourself so you could see the warning symbols.

he chuckles lowly as his left hand traveled to your ass, gently smacking it, “see. you can’t even compete, baby.”

“i’ll find a way.” you say with determination.

“i won’t let you,” he mumbles, pulling you into his lap fully. you were now face to face as you straddled him, “so fuckin’ stubborn—just give up, ma.”

you could feel chris harden beneath you as you adjust yourself, his cock slightly brushing against your now wet panties, “i’m not gonna be the loser for this race, chris.” you say, your voice slightly shaky.

he groaned in annoyance as he threw his head against the pink headrest. both of his hands trailed up and down your thighs, occasionally his fingers teasing the sexy lace of your underwear. your eyes dart to his adams apple, bobbing ever -so-slightly as his fingers inched closer to your core.

he delicately brushed his ring and middle finger against your clothed clit, “let me win, baby.” he whispers once more, as he meets your wetness seeping through, “damn. is this what it takes?” he scoffs, teasing you some more. a soft whimper escapes your glossed lips in response.

“stay quiet f’me,” he mutters, “let me figure that out myself, yeah?” he finally slipped both of his fingers into your panties, humming in approval as he feels the soft skin of your pussy. he pushed one finger at a time into your wet folds in a dangerously slow manner.

“fuck…” you breathe out, leaning your back against the steering wheel— the pink embellishment of the honda logo pressed into your back, creating an indent through your top. another moan came out as you felt him curl his fingers inside you before pumping in a deliberate and sensual motion, “you’re so fuckin’…” you trail off, completely melting in his arms.

“so fuckin’ what?” chris teases, the pace of his pumping began to quicken , “so fuckin’ right? ‘cause yeah, i am.” he mumbles, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to leave hot and open mouthed kisses on your cold skin.

chris was feeding into your soft moans and whimpers, biting and sucking on your neck in response to the noises. his other hand slipped under your tube top to meet your bare chest. he hummed against your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine before roughly grazing his thumb on your hardened nipple.

“please chris…” you whine, as his forefinger and thumb rolled and pinched the sensitive skin of your breast. your head was thrown back as you bucked your hips against his slender fingers before subconsciously grinding on them— basically pleading for more, “i’m gonna cum.”

“holy shit.” he scoffs at your desperation and the arousal that coated his fingers. he then slowly removedhis fingers from inside you and brought them into his own mouth, “christ. you taste like a fucking loser.” he shakes his head, pinching your nipple once more.

“shut the fuck… up.” you say breathlessly, before beginning to roll your hips against his hard and throbbing cock.

“geez ma,” he groans, “i didn’t expect for you to basically be begging for my dick.” he then unzips his camo pants and pulled down his boxers— his rockhard dick sprung out.

you didn’t hesistate one bit, you slipped off your panties with the help of chris as your freshly done nails dug into chris’ back, “so desperate, it’s pathetic.” he mumbles as he began to fuck you while you sat on his lap, “you’re gonna take it raw, baby.” he groaned.

you gasp as you felt his length slip through your wet and already sore folds. you bounced up and down on his cock, needily while the grip on his disheveled hair tightened, “you’re gonna let me win now huh?” chris moaned, his hands squeezing your ass in response to your hands tugging at his hair.

“fine—” you whine, “i don’t care anymore… just please. fuck…”

he throws his head back once more, a tired smirk played at his lips, “that’s what i thought. i’m winning that shit fair and swear, baby.”

© 777sturn

[eternalguk]

pink hearts & black clouds | jjk. masterlist

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, introvert x extrovert, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : tbc.

↠ Warnings : alcohol consumption, swearing, mental health, explicit sexual content (each drabble will outline specific warnings)

↠ A/n : Hi there ; welcome to the masterlist for PHBC 🫶🏻 seven different drabbles to show you a seven different ways this gorgeous couple love one another. I hope you enjoy these short snippets of their lives 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

↠ Status : 0 / 7 released (coming soon) || teaser || prologue

❧ drabble 01 - lip gloss & leather

❧ drabble 02 - lace & chains

❧ drabble 03 - soft & hard

❧ drabble 04 - strawberries & cigarettes

❧ drabble 05 - pretty in pink & brooding in black

❧ drabble 06 - glitter meets gloom

❧ drabble 07 - bubbles & bruises

❧ FAQ

↠ Release dates?

• I will post when I am able to! Mainly on weekends / when I am off work ♡.

↠ Taglist?

• Send me an ask or comment down below.

↠ How do the main characters look in this fic?

• That is completely up to you! Personally, I imagined Golden era!jk. Here is the moodboard which provides you with an insight to both the main characters & the couple themselves!

↠ Side characters?

• Bangtan members - Jungkook’s friendship group (mainly Jm & Th)

↠ Requests?

• I will take requests for this couple once the series is officially complete ♡.

[edward-munson]

i'm right here - E.M.

Summary: You've been friends with Eddie ever since middle school. You come back to Hawkins after spending a few years living with your parents in Texas, but you're met with the news that he's dating Chrissy- the one who would always say bad things about him. You like each other, but neither knows about each other's feelings.

Ps: You're Steve Harrington's sister and your nickname is Harrington/shortie.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: None for now!

Word count: 7k

⋆˚✿˖°

You flushed the toilet so the water running on the shower would get hotter while Steve was in there. "Come on, Steve. Hurry the fuck up, you're not meeting the Queen of England!" You whined.

"You're so gonna pay for that later!" He yelled as he threatened you.

Moments after his shower, Steve showed up on the staircase, fixing up his damp hair with a towel. "I think you should know Eddie is seeing Chrissy Cunningham. I know you guys haven't seen each other in almost like three years”.

He couldn’t read your expression, though he knew you had a thing for your friend. “Keep your panties on, groupie. I know you have a crush on him" He mocked you without noticing you were almost choking on your own spit.

"First, don't ever say that nasty thing again. And second, I don't have a crush on him".

"Yeah, the way you hide it is so nonchalant" Steve satirized, laughing at the way you tried to throw a cushion at him.

"If you don't shut up and hurry up, I'll let the entire school know you use Farrah Fawcet's hair spray" Steve almost choked on his cereal and you snorted.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

You and Eddie were good friends before you moved out to Texas. It's not like you were best friends, but you were pretty close. You would always go to your hideout together to smoke weed and then you'd go to his house to see him play guitar.

It kinda hit you like a truck to know he was seeing the one girl who had always been talking shit about him and mocking him at school and he didn't even know that. Point being, if he actually did know, then he was just being completely oblivious.

You had no idea how you'd react when seeing him with Chrissy, but nothing prepared you for the moment you got inside the school. His hair was longer, he was skinny and he had a lot more rings than you remembered. You couldn't shake the feeling of seeing him laughing close to her, while she was wearing her cheerleader outfit. This might be the weirdest shit you've seen, the outcast going out with the most popular girl in school, if not the city.

You stood there for a good two minutes without saying anything, while Steve kept calling you out of your daydreaming. "Jesus, can you act like you're not going to faint?".

You grit your teeth and elbow your brother on the ribs. “Shut the fuck up”.

Steve pulls you by your arm and makes a beeline to his locker. You had to be in your class in about 10 minutes, but when Eddie saw you in the distance, he froze. He kept staring at you while Chrissy poked him in the chest, calling his name out. You didn't see he was looking until you realized he was coming towards you.

"Oh my God, the better Harrington!" He said out loud and your brother let out a sarcastic laugh. Eddie was smiling widely, opening his arms. He reached you in a tight grip, his arms wrapped around your neck.

"Eddie!" You gave him a big smile, even though he didn't see it.

He smelled just like you remembered, tobacco and a cheap cologne. Obviously not the same one anymore, but it still smelled too good. His curls were brushing your face, tickling your nose.

You held him by his skinny waist and could barely breathe. This was the closest you've been to him in a million years. "It's such a surprise to see you. Your brother didn't tell me you would come!".

"Yeah, she came back from Texas. Ditched our parents to come and live with her favorite family member" He joked and Eddie laughed.

"No way you came back to Hawkins" He let go of you, still looking surprised.

Your breath hitched your throat at the way he looked at you as you nodded. It seemed like Eddie couldn’t believe you were standing right there in front of him. He could never think you would come back to that hell hole and the thought of seeing you every day made his heart race for some reason. Steve was completely aware of your feelings, now you couldn't hide you did have a crush on him.

"I didn't want to stay with our parents forever. I wanted to be more independent, you know. And then Steve and I talked, he agreed on having me over" You started rambling, your hands were shaking and you almost stumbled over your words.

Steve noticed the way you were practically stressing and hovered over your shoulder. "You mean I was obliged to have you over" He taunted.

"Good to see you're back, shortie" You forgot how much you loved when he called you like that.

Eddie was really surprised to see you there. Happy, even. For a moment he forgot about Chrissy, turning over to call her out. Oh, God. You looked over your brother and he squinted.

"You remember Chrissy? You guys were in plays together, right?" He reached over her hand, you watched her smile and snuggle with him.

Like it's hard to not remember her.

"Sure! How have you been?" You played cool. Deep inside you wanted to smash her head against the lockers and snap at her for being such a bitch. And hypocritical.

You and Eddie didn't talk too much after that, you had to get to your locker before going to class. He made sure you'd meet during lunch, but you don't think you had the guts to be there. Because Chrissy would be there.

The entire time Steve was watching over you while you were at their table. Good thing you at least met his friends he was always talking about. You got along really well with Robin, she was really nice. You had a lot of fun on the first day, not just because of them. But because you were able to make friends from your classes, which you were afraid wouldn't happen.

After school, your brother gave you a ride back home before he went to work. During the entire time, you were complaining about Chrissy and Steve was trying to make you feel conformed. It was actually hard for him to see how much you liked Eddie and how much you hated her.

Even though you were always mocking each other, he loved you unconditionally.

"God, what a fucking bitch. You know her better than me now, right? You remember how much she would talk shit about him? Obviously not right at his face, but people knew. I knew!" You snapped.

"Look, I know. Maybe she's changed a bit, I don't see her doing what she used to do. But he likes her" He tried being reasonable.

"Of course he likes her. She's pretty, she's the head cheerleader. She's a manipulative twat" Your brother snorted at your words.

"I get that it would bother you. It does seem hypocritical, but people change. Sometimes it's hard to understand her motivations, maybe she just sees something different in him" You frowned at Steve.

"I don't buy that".

"Either way, we're going to a haunted house tomorrow after my shift. He's coming too. I don't know about her" He said, pulling by the driveway.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" You retorted. It wasn't enough for you to know he was seeing the most two-faced person at school besides Jason. You had to go out with her as well.

Later that night, you had been thinking about a way of spending time with your brother and his friends without being catastrophically awkward near Eddie. And worse, near him and Chrissy. You just wish you could punch the life out of her pretty face, but you couldn't.

With Halloween being closer, the city was already decorated with adornments and the stores have set a good amount of Halloween displays. You and Steve were yet to decorate his house, but every other neighbor had already done that.

You were finishing getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror, nervously thinking about Eddie. God, you don't remember the last time you acted so foolish over a crush like that, it was honestly terrifying as hell.

But then again, what's the reason you're being like that if he's one of your closest friends? And also, it doesn't matter how you look because Chrissy is seeing him anyway. You huffed, walking downstairs to wait for Steve, who was almost late, again.

"Steve, get your ugly face right here, so we can use you to scare the kids" You shouted, taunting your brother, so he would hurry up.

He took about two minutes to show up. His hair perfectly sat on his head, like always. He looked like he was about to go to a Fashion Week event.

"You know it's dark in there, right? No one's going to see you".

"Fuck you, sis. I have a date afterwards, but that's none of your business" He replied.

There was a good amount of people already waiting in line when you got there. You saw Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Eddie. It was the first time you were seeing him out of school, but it didn't feel like it was the same thing. You just had no idea why.

"You forgot your baseball bat, Harrington" The metalhead implied, snorting. Steve let out a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm not scared of it, dumbass. You should be the one scared of the spiders" Your brother brought it up. And then you remembered it like it was yesterday.

You were in your basement placing the Halloween decoration for your "private" party, there were a lot of spiders, cockroaches and bats spread all over the wall. But the spiders were too realistic, and before he even got in the room, you dropped one of them on his head and he started screaming.

It made you laugh so hard you almost peed yourself. You didn't know he was scared of spiders at the time, and it was too amusing for you. For him, it was terrifying, honestly. You immediately started laughing at the memory, and he stared at you.

"Oh, God. I remember that, like it was yesterday. You were so scared of the spider decoration, I've never seen you walk up the stairs so fast" You were still laughing. He chuckled at the thought, pushing your shoulder slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous. But big spiders are crazy shit" He was still chuckling. Steve looked from you to his friend, tilting his head. You still were good friends, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

It was a big haunted house. They really put effort into the ornament, the features included demons, ghosts, skeletons, zombies, monsters, possessed people, witches, serial killers, and slashers. For the most part of it, it was just walking through the hallways without a jump scare, but that was the fun was about.

You were walking with Nancy and Robin, too close to not be apart from each other. But one of the zombies screamed so loud next to you that Robin's reflection was to just run out of that hallway. You were still laughing with Nancy at your friend's reaction.

Then you told her to reach for the girl while you stayed behind. You liked seeing the details of it, how they managed to make an entire house so well decorated. The only creepy thing was a possessed face hanging out of a frame, but it wasn't moving.

You were walking backwards, still staring at the details, when you bumped your back into something and immediately yelled. Your heart was racing like crazy. You turn around and see Eddie there.

"Holy shit, I didn't see you there!" He was placing a hand over his chest. He was probably looking for the others. "Jesus H. Christ, I almost had a stroke".

"Just you? I thought I was having a heart attack" You slapped him on his forearm and he laughed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I lost one of my rings" He replied, and you were about to speak, but he cut you off. "Before you say that's not important, it's my favorite one".

You chuckled, obviously. You thought it was cute, him having a favorite ring when they were all weird alike. But he was a weirdo as well. In a good way.

"I didn't say anything" You defended yourself. "I think it's probably going to be really hard to look for it here. It's too dark”.

He crouched down, looking for the accessory in every possible corner of the place. If only there was a flashlight in there.

"Who even wants a ring like that?" You joked, you knew he was going to flip at you for talking shit about a ring. But that was the fun about it.

"Shut up and help me, shortie. You're still a little evil as I remember" He retorted and you snorted. You would always be one to mock him and playfully satirize his tastes, even though you never judged him for not liking the things he liked.

You and Eddie spent a good amount of time looking for that ring. You looked behind the decoration, under it, in every single corner of the place. You even asked the masked people, the zombies, witches and the other staff for his accessory and didn't find it.

"Remember when we went to that fair when we were, like, 12? You lost your earrings and couldn't stop crying" He started, making his way back to the second floor.

You chuckled. They were your favorite, because Steve got them for you from a bag of chips, and you thought it was so cute you always wore them.

"I only stopped crying when he promised me he would get me a new pair. But he never did and eventually I forgot about it".

"You almost made us look everywhere. It was impossible, and we had to. You said you were going to pull our hair out of our scalp if we didn't help" Eddie was laughing at the memory.

"Are you saying that if we don't find it, you're going to cry and pull my hair out?". He snorted.

"No, but I am going to be sad. I bought it like, a few years ago when I went to Ohio". Really, he sounds too cute talking about a ring.

It hit you that you were thinking it was cute only because you thought he was cute. Your brother and the others were probably looking for you right now. And it didn't take longer for one of them to find you there. Two weirdos looking behind the decorations.

After a moment of silence, you spoke. "So, how are things with Chrissy?". You were interested in his relationship with her, you just wanted to know about how far it would go.

"We've only been going out for a couple of months. She's really nice. Kinda weird to think of it, she's still a cheerleader, and I'm the outcast".

"Yeah, real nice" You satirize, but he doesn't catch it. "I'm really happy for you. Not so much for her".

He was about to ask what you meant, but someone showed up behind you.

"As much as I would like to stay over the entire night, can we just leave?" Robin asked as she saw you both weirdly looking at the ornaments.

"He lost one of his rings and he's going to cry if he doesn't find it" You mock.

"Oh, I think Steve found it right after you dropped it".

Indeed, your brother found his ring and kept it in his pocket. Turns out, the night out was fun, despite your conversation with Eddie. You know you shouldn't have said too much, but he was probably going to forget about it anyway.

You wanted him to be happy, you really did. But every time you remember what Chrissy did and how much shit she used to talk about him, you can't help but be bitter about it.

You spent the weekend at home and had a sleepover at Robin's with Nancy. You had a really great time getting to know them better, listening to their stories about school and other things about Hawkins.

It was a good thing to get distracted and not think too much about Eddie and his new girlfriend. For all you know, he's been having a great time with her. 

Steve asked you to spend more time with him and the others at their table during lunch. You had no problem with that, because you weren’t that close to the other girls from your classes yet, and it would be too awkward for you. Nonsense. It was way more awkward now, sitting next to Robin and Jonathan, while your brother was sitting right in front of you with Nancy on one side, and Eddie - with her. 

You guys were talking about the Halloween party someone you didn’t know was going to throw the following weekend. You were all figuring out what to wear, and you could hear Robin rambling about wanting to rent a camo costume. Everyone laughed when you said Steve should probably wear his former sailor Scoops Ahoy uniform as he flipped you a finger. 

Your brother reminded everyone at the table the times you both would go outside for trick or treating and would come back with heavy buckets of candy, because he would steal them from the other kids. Steve also brought up the one time Eddie was following along with you two, but started wheezing because his asthma was bad. 

“Oh, no. Poor Eddie” Chrissy pouted, holding his chin before leaving a peck on his cheek. He mirrored her playfully, and you scrunched your nose. “I didn’t know you were asthmatic”.

“Of course you didn’t” Your words slipped from your mouth faster than your brain could think of it and Steve kicked you on the shin under the table. 

Chrissy flipped her head to look at you, her head almost tilted, like she didn’t get what you said. Eddie didn’t notice what you said, either. 

Once they were back to talking about the Halloween party, you couldn’t stop watching them both being too cheesy next to each other. It started annoying you, at some point. Jonathan was probably bothered by it too, but he’s one that wouldn’t even kiss in front of people anyway. 

After class, you were heading to the library to work on a new project. Halfway through your walk, Eddie reached over your shoulder. He pulled you by his hand. He had just finished smoking a cigarette, from the looks of it. 

“Hey, how’s school been?” He wrapped your shoulder around one of his arms, walking side to side. 

“So far, so good. It’s different from Texas but, still, it’s school” You shrugged. There wasn’t much of a difference, really. “How have you been during these few years?”

“Ah, nothing much. Been helping uncle Wayne, selling goodies for the kids and practicing with my band. Which, by the way, you should see us some time”. 

“I definitely will. I still remember you wanted your future band to be called Corroded Coffin” You chuckled. 

You found a table near the entrance and sat down, while Eddie followed you doing the same, resting one of his arms on the chair. 

“Yep, that’s the name” You couldn’t point out the effect his smile actually had over you. Maybe this is one of the features she saw in him. 

“I’m hopeful the band is going to work out, you know. You’ve always loved playing”. And you loved watching your friend play guitar, not just because he looked so sexy doing it. But because he was a really good player. 

Eddie nodded, resting his head against your shoulder while you tried to remember what you were about to do at the library. 

“Doesn’t it bother Chrissy that you’re friends with girls?” You know this is dangerous territory. Not for him, but for you. Because you know you might end up talking more than you should. 

He shook his head. That is some twisted information for you to gather. Maybe it’s because she thinks no one would actually be in love with him.

You were in seventh grade, you were friends with Chrissy and other girls at the time. Hawkins always had a group of cheerleaders, and their captains were always the same. Too pretty, too skinny and too bitchy. God, she was such a bitch. 

You honestly hated that, so you never really went for it. But during classes and sleepovers with the other girls, you were slowly finding out the blonde, sweet-smiling girl was only sweet to people she chose to be. You had no idea if she ever talked shit about you, but that doesn’t seem like it. 

Either way, you knew, and you still remember how she would talk about your brother, even if she said she was kidding. Steve is the hottest guy ever, but he’s such a fucking himbo. And then she would look at you and say “Steve is a great guy, I’m just kidding”. Yeah… right. Then, you always overheard her saying how creepy and lunatic Eddie was. How he could never be able to pick up a girl, because he wasn’t attractive at all. You never did anything, because you didn’t want to start a fight. 

You didn’t want to hurt him, telling him the truth. Why would you say it now? It would probably hurt him more. One, because you kept it from him. And two, he might not even want to believe you after four years. Everything was already fucked up, Steve knew how much you liked Eddie and how much you cared about him. But it was hard to tell him that. Steve never said anything either, because Eddie was closer to you, not him. He didn’t want to overstep your friendship. 

You only realized the metalhead was talking to you when he slightly tapped his palm over your forehead. “Fucking trapped over there? I’ve been talking to you like a dork over here”. 

Your smile almost faltered, lowering your head. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m still thinking about that, it’s weird dating her, right?”. 

“A little, but we like each other”. He was grinning too hard. “She’s really nice, by the way. I was wondering if you and the girls could include her in your hanging outs?”.

God, how are you gonna say no to him? Fuck no, you couldn’t. But you will have to, don’t you? If you say no, he’s gonna be upset. 

“Uh- I can ask Robin and Nance about that, see what they think?” You were almost spilling everything out to him, just so you could get rid of that puppy eyed face he was pulling. 

“Really? Sounds good, shortie!” He gave you a tight hug before leaving you alone. 

And then, you threw your notebook on the table and leaned your arms against it, holding your head in your hands. How long until you consider going back to fucking Texas already?

-

You would spend most of the days trying to distract yourself from thinking about Eddie and his relationship with Chrissy. It was starting to become obsessive and Steve was already too annoyed to hear you talking about his friend over and over. He would tell you to get over it, but it was really impossible to forget how much shit she used to talk about your friend. Maybe it's the fact that you decided to hide it from him, maybe it's because you don't wanna ruin it for him seeing how happy he is.

Steve was about to go on a double date bowling with Robin and Vicky when he looked over the living room, watching as you flipped over the channels looking for something to watch. Everything seemed boring because your head was way too far from this planet. He stepped in front of the TV as he placed his hands over his waist and looked at you. You raise your head and stare back at him with a frown.

"Why are you looking at me like that, freak?" You pushed him off and sat back on the couch, still frantically pushing the buttons on the remote.

"I'm going on a double date and you look like shit. I thought maybe you'd like to go" You scoffed at his words, shaking your head.

"And be the fifth wheel? No, thanks"

Why would you even want to be there with two couples, while watching them having fun? You're not in the mood to get out of the house and interact.

Steve didn't even think about insisting, he fumbled for his car keys over the pocket of his jeans and left.

You huffed. Maybe it wasn't so bad to go with them and just play a little, right? What if you were supposed to be doing that instead of feeling sorry for Eddie? Who, by the way, must be having a lot of fun with her right now. Rolling your eyes, you get up from the couch and go to your bedroom looking for something to wear. You didn't want to actually dress up like you usually do, so you put on your favorite Nike and grab a denim jacket before leaving the house.

The sad thing about deciding to go out is that you'd have to walk down the streets. For a moment you didn't realize it, but then it came to your mind that you didn't know where the hell the bowling place was. As you stopped in your tracks in the middle of your walk, you laughed sarcastically. How can you be so dumb? The only other choice you had was to head over to the closest gas station and find a phone.

You tried Nancy's, but she was with Jonathan. Dustin and the other kids were too young to drive and you weren't actually friends with anyone else. The only other choice was probably unavailable either, but you had to try. You didn't want to walk back home and it wasn't exactly that safe to be alone in the streets when it's dark.

You heard the other line ringing too many times. Of course it's just ringing. You feel like a stupid bitch for calling. But only until the line goes on.

"Hello?" It's him, you feel yourself freezing in place and suddenly your throat goes dry.

It felt like you stood there holding the phone for several minutes before you could speak up. You heard his voice say "hello" about three times.

"If this is you, Henderson, I'm going to freaking punch you at school! Stop calling me, you punk" He said with a sigh and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I thought you'd be getting calls from girls and even from your girlfriend. But never from Dustin" You feel your heart racing against your chest and it's ridiculous to notice how dumb it is to feel like that.

"Huh? Who is it?"

You laugh again and bite your lower lip playfully. "If you guess, I'll give you a chocolate yoohoo".

Eddie snorts and laughs.

"Hey, shortie. What do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"I'll tell you, but if you laugh I'll chop off a chunk of your hair!" You warn him as you play with the phone wire.

"You wouldn't! I promise I won't laugh, just tell me"

"I was going to the bowling place, but it turns out I don't know the address. Stevie is on a double date with Robin and my only option was Nancy" It wasn't entirely true, you really wanted to call him first. But you didn't want to be desperate because of him.

"Ouch" He muses "So I wasn't an option?"

"No- It's not... I thought you were out with Chrissy so I didn't want to bother you" Saying it out loud sounds a lot more stupid than it was inside your head.

This is actually pretty ridiculous and so humiliating.

"You never bother me, shortie. And Chris is out with her girl friends" Chris. Ugh, this is so weird. "So, where the hell are you so I can pick you up?"

He arrived at the gas station in less than ten minutes. Eddie parked his van and got off the vehicle just so he could open the passenger door for you. This is so sweet I could just punch his face, you thought. 

He sat next to you and turned the radio back on, a song from Metallica started playing at a low volume and you scrunched up your eyebrows. This is something you never witnessed, he was always playing music too loud back then.

"What happened to the loud music?" You ask as you buckle yourself and Eddie starts the car.

"Uh, force of habit" He laughs through his nose. "Chrissy usually wants to turn it down so I just leave it. I kinda got used to it"

She what? God, she's such a bitch.

You try not to show off your disappointment, so you act like it's okay. "So it doesn't bother you that she doesn't want your radio to be loud?"

"You'd be surprised she doesn't want to change the tapes all the time" He says it with a smile on his face, but it bothers you on such a high level.

You trip over your words a few times. You're really bad at disguising your actions. For a bitch, she's quite nice to him. Maybe she's changed.

"Wow, she really loves you" Your words come out sarcastically but he doesn't notice it and agrees with you.

"Yeah, I think she does. Sometimes it's hard to believe it" Everything about this is so wrong and you can't help but feel bad for him. You're really trying to be happy.

Before Eddie pulls up by the bowling parking lot, he makes sure he stays and pairs up with you so you can all play. You like the idea, and your stomach fills in with butterflies and he looks at you and says you and he are the best "couple".

Steve looks at you weird when you show up with Eddie, and gives you a sided eye when he greets his friend. You just shrug, letting him know you'll explain it later. Robin, on the other hand, seems quite happy to see him there. They became really close after everything that happened after Vecna, and how he's grateful for them for taking care of him when he almost died. You only knew the story, you could see some fading scars over his face, just like the ones Steve has.

"Alright, shortie. You take the lighter balls and I'll have the heavy ones. We're aiming for all the pins, try not to slip over the lane. And no bumpers" He says it like you're a child and fakes a gasp when you punch him in the shoulder.

"I've played before, you moron!"

"You can't even hold the ball without complaining that your fingers hurt" Steve chimes in your conversation, sitting next to you as you put on your shoes.

You look over at him and roll your eyes. "How would you play with a broken finger, bro?" You tease him.

Your brother seems confused with your question. You get up from your seat only to step up with your right foot over your it right where his hand rests. Your bowling shoe presses against his fingers and you watch as Steve struggles to pull his hand back to him. His fingers look bruised already and he takes a few steps toward you.

"You little bitch" He whispers. "You better find some other place to sleep tonight"

You stare back at him with a sided smile over your face, while he tries not to choke his own sister in public.

"Alright brother and sister, let's have some fun okay? It's just a joke" Robin comes to you both and holds her friend's forearm, pulling him closer to her. You watch him give you the middle finger and you can't help but laugh.

Steve's date is a nice girl and really smart. Emma is also funny and likes to make jokes as well, but her father isn't so nice. She had to leave earlier than she thought after her dad came to pick her up. You see how your brother seems upset, especially because it's been so long since he hadn't been having fun with girls. They were all too annoying or too difficult to deal with.

It was you against Eddie and Robin against Steve now. Eddie took his time to teach you a few things and tricks, he graciously grasped his calloused fingers against your skin and you could feel a strange electricity run through your body and Eddie felt the same. For a moment he thought it could’ve been his mind playing games, but when he looked over to his left side he saw Steve staring at both of you with worry in his eyes. 

Your brother doesn’t want things to go wrong for his friend, and he knows how much Eddie cared about you too. The metalhead shook his head lightly and focused on telling you how to release the ball without it hurting your fingers. All you could hear was a buzz in your ears and it was hard to stay sane when there’s a man standing inches from your face teaching you how to hold a fucking bowling ball. 

The next few minutes, though, were played in slow motion for Eddie. He watched as Chrissy arrived with Jason resting his right arm around her small shoulders. She was smiling at him and laughing at something he was telling her. If it wasn’t for Robin, Eddie probably would’ve dropped the heavier ball over your foot. You didn’t see it happening right away because you were tying your shoes, but when you noticed Steve kicking you incessantly, you turned over just in time to see her with the basketball team leader. 

Isn’t it just funny? Funny how both are the most popular and obnoxious people in school. Funny how they “match” because of the status and how wrong everything about that is. Eddie stood there frozen in his place, his shoulders were hard as a rock and slumped, while Robin tried talking to him. You looked over Steve and saw his expression turn into anger. You know how much he tries not to break someone’s nose when he crosses his arms against his chest and just scowls at people. That’s how protective he is over his friends and he learned to be protective over Eddie as well. 

“What a fucking bitch” Robin whispered right next to Eddie, who instantly turned his head to look at her for a second. “I’m sorry”.

She rested one of her hands over his shoulder and he didn’t move an inch from his place as he watched them both look at each other and smile. They didn’t even notice all of you from the other side of the place and maybe it was for the best. You felt as Steve pulled you by your hand and looked at Robin, who was still holding Eddie’s shoulder while all of you walked out of there without being noticed. 

He didn’t have an expression on his face for the first seconds after you got to the parking lot. But as soon as he stood closer to his van, Eddie gripped a strand of his hair with both hands leaving a heavy sigh from his lips. The three of you didn’t know what to say or do, and watched as your friend had an outbreak moment. He laughed, Eddie laughed so loud and it was an obvious fake laugh. The one you let out when you’re nervous. Now looking closely, you can see a tear being shed and slide down his cheek. You couldn’t help yourself and walked up to him, holding him closely as you rested your chin on his shoulder. He’s a little taller, so you have to be on tippy toes. 

“She-” His voice broke from holding back the tears and you forcefully closed your eyes in anger. “She said she loved me” 

“I’m really sorry, Ed” You try to comfort him but you know he’s hurting and it won’t make a difference now. But you want to be there for him and stop the tears from falling if you need to. 

“How could she do that?” His voice was barely above a whisper and he wasn’t feeling ashamed of crying in front of his friends. 

It takes both of you a few minutes after breaking the contact, and you watch as Eddie tries to get rid of his wet face with the hem of his t-shirt. Don’t look, now is not the fucking time. You don’t answer his question, but you know it’s time for you to let him know the truth. He deserves to know she’s always been and always will be a fucking slut. Eddie gets in the car after opening the passenger door for you and you sit there not really knowing how you’re going to say it. 

As he sits down and exhales a long sigh, he fixes his messed hair and looks at you. His smile is broken and his eyes are a little puffy and you feel your heart break. Your first instinct is to carefully place one hand over his jawline and rub your thumb against his skin. “I’m sorry about the outbreak” He says.

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, Eddie”

“I just don’t fucking understand anything! She said she was hanging out with her cheerleader friends and I told her it was okay and that I was staying home. I was tired from working at the library. God, she- It’s Jason fucking Carver, that guy hates me!” Eddie sounded pretty much like he was frustrated with everything at that moment and you couldn’t do much. 

You couldn’t do anything to take away his pain, you just had to be there for him. Maybe it’s better to end this now and accept the fact he’s gonna hate you forever, rather than hiding from him what she’s been like from the beginning. 

“She’s always been like that, Eddie” You whispered, watching as he slowly looked at you with a blank stare. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head a little. “She… used to talk about you back in middle school. A lot of bad things. About how creepy you were and that you would never have friends. When we were all together before the plays, she would say things like that, Chrissy used to talk about Steve too. She talked about him so many times”. 

You were trying to be patient and wait for a response but it never came. He just kept staring back at you for a couple of minutes, biting his lower lip a little too hard for your liking. And then he laughed again, and that’s when you knew shit was about to go down. Because you know he would believe you. But it comes with a consequence. 

He laughed for a few seconds and tossed his head back with a hard laugh. God, it was actually terrifying to look at him like that. Eddie lowered his head and gripped your hand with one of his own. He didn’t push it, he just placed it back over your lap.

“So, you’re telling me… that you’ve known this entire time she never liked me- And- And you never told me?” His tone came out a little hoarse and hurt, it made your skin shiver. It’s not like he was gonna yell at you because it isn’t Eddie, but he was definitely hurt. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you back then, Eddie. And then when I found out you were together I saw how happy you were!” You felt your own tears stream down your face as you tried to keep eye contact with him, but it was too painful to look. 

“Do I look like I’m fucking happy now? Why would you never tell me someone was talking shit about me?” Eddie was so upset with you right now, but he could never treat a woman like shit. Not even when he’s the most stressed. 

“Because you didn’t deserve that! It was Chrissy, she was never nice to people she didn’t like. I don’t think she ever liked me as a matter of fact! She never got along with Steve!” 

“It doesn’t concern me if she liked me or not. It matters to me what she did back then and why the fuck she decided I was the one she liked now! Jesus H. Christ, Harrington. She literally played me and I’m sitting in my fucking car right now just digesting everything she ever did” Eddie started crying again and this time his tears were from being upset and disappointed. It was because of you now, not because of her. 

He called you Harrington, it's the weirdest thing to ever hear when it comes to him, because he never calls his friends by their last name unless he's mad or it's just a joke. But it isn't a joke.

“I know, I’m really sorry about that. I never bought the story that she genuinely liked you and I really wanted to believe she did. But I never trusted her, I never liked her either. Eddie, I swear I never wanted you to get hurt like this” You raised your left hand to brush off his tears while with your right one you held his shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I really believed she did. She never seemed to make it like it wasn’t true. God, I’m so fucking dumb! You should’ve told me befo-” His words choked over his crying and you felt your heart sink in your chest. 

“I never wanted things to end like this, I’m so sorry Eds. I really am, I was supposed to let you know, I know that. It wasn’t fair to you!” 

“She was the only person who ever liked me and now I’m back to being alone and-” You gripped his wet chin and raised his head so he could look at you. Eddie was a mess, his hair was damp from all the crying and his bangs were all over his face. 

“Hey, she’s not the only person who ever liked you…” Your hands were trembling and your heart was racing.

"What does that even mean?" He looked very confused. He was struggling to stop crying and you could see how much he was stressed.

It was a surprise he wasn't having an asthma attack yet.

You bit your lower lip and didn't try to disguise what you wanted to say. You just hated that the situation brought you two into this mess and now you're about to tell him what you've been holding in for years.

Both of you were looking intensely at each other and Eddie let out a gasp of disbelief. He was surprised, that was the only word enough to describe him right now. 

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[ink-stainedkiss]

Nuisance - Ryomen Sukuna ✧

Synopsis: *Human!Sukuna* While hanging out with your boyfriend, Ryomen, his little brother wanders out of his room.

*Not Proof Read*

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something about the King of Curses and this prompt came to mind. I hope you guys enjoy it cause I loved writing about baby Yuji. Also, something like this is in the works for Dad!Gojo and Son!Megumi.

Warnings:None

Word Count: 1.5k

You have been chilling in Ryomen’s room for hours now. Since it was a weekend and you both didn’t have any classes, you found yourself resting in his bed while he played relentlessly on his video game. You had been passing the time by scrolling on your phone, but it became so repetitive, you ultimately gave up on trying to find something interesting to watch. Stretching in Ryo’s bed, you let out a grunt and lifted yourself from his mattress. He didn’t seem to notice your movement as you got up and strolled behind him. He had his headphones on and occasionally he would blurt out some phrase that sounded like gibberish to you.

Quietly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick kiss to his cheek, but as you began to walk to the door, you were whipped around and stuck in between Ryomen’s legs. He had taken his headset off and stared up at you with questioning eyes,”Where are you going?” You smirked, leaning down and placing a slow kiss to his lips,”Just down stairs, I’m hungry.” He hummed to your words, kneading the flesh of the back of your thighs,”Can you bring me some water?” Nodding, you gave him one last kiss,”Of course.”

With that he let you go, not without slapping your ass on your way out. You flipped him off playfully, smiling as his deep chuckled echoed out. You headed down the hallway, humming a small song under your breath as you walked to the kitchen. When you first met Ryo, you were expecting his small home to be trashed and flooded with dirty dishes, but to your surprise it was quite the opposite. He had a comfortable two bedroom, one bathroom, house that was practically becoming your second home. You weren’t sure who told him that keeping a fresh home attracts a lady, but it definitely works. He had plenty of good-smelling candles and each section of the home was spotless.

You wandered into the kitchen, opening the cupboards to find his stockpile of snacks. Finally, you found a bag of chips and set them on the counter. Moving to his refrigerator, you smirked at the photo stuck to the front with a magnet. It showed you and Ryomen standing in front of a Christmas light show and you were kissing his cheek. He’s such a softie. Opening the fridge, you frowned at the scarce amount of options. Energy drinks,condiments,barely any sandwich meat and eggs. You really needed to go grocery shopping with him. Shockingly, he had bottled water in the bottom.

As you reached for it, you heard a door open in the back room and assumed Ryomen was finished with his game. You stood, turning with the water in hand, but the person behind you was not Ryomen at all. Well he did look exactly like him, just a lot younger. A little boy that shared Ryomen’s light pink hair and dark hazel eyes. He clearly had just woken up, because his hair was messy and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Looking up, his eyes shone in pure wonder,”Who are you?”

You giggled, bending down to meet his level, he couldn't be any older than five,”Hey little guy,” you cooed,”I’m Ryomen’s girlfriend. What’s your name?” He pointed to himself,”I’m Yuji,” then pointed back to you,”You’re the one my older brother keeps talking about.” You raised your brows in interest,”He does? Well what does he say?” The little boy beamed at your question,”He says you’re really pretty.”

You giggled at his words,”Aw, that’s sweet of him.” He nodded along, then let out a yawn. You tilted your head, very happy to be talking to Ryomen’s adorable little brother,”Did you just wake up?” He let out a cute ‘mhm’ and you glanced at the hallway,”How come Ryomen hasn’t told me anything about you?” He gave a small shrug,”I don’t know,” You stood to your full height and gestured to the hall,”Well do you wanna go say hi to him?”

He nodded excitedly and just as you were about to lead the way, Yuji lifted both of his hands, making a small grabbing motion. You were sure this boy was going to be the death of you. Not wanting to let him down, you grabbed under his armpit, and lifted him off the ground. Setting him on your hip, you examined his features,”Aren’t you the cutest thing.” You booped his nose and he let out a small giggle,”When Ryo told me about you, I knew you were a good person.”

You smiled,”Thank you Yuji, I think you’re a good person too.” You ruffled his fluffy hair and Yuji clung to your shoulder, hugging you tightly. He’s kinda like a koala. You carried the boy to Ryomen’s door, completely forgetting the items you were supposed to bring back. Turning the handle, you stood in the doorway, pausing to put a finger to your lips and face Yuji. He gave a nod of understanding and you faced Ryomen, who was still playing his game.

“Ryo,” You called, making the man pause his game and begin to turn in his chair. As he removed his headphones,he had a small smile on his face,”I was wondering when you would get back-“ His smile dropped at the sight before him,”Where do you find him?” You rolled your eyes, setting the boy down,”You’re acting like he’s a stray.” Yuji ran right to his brother and climbed onto his lap. While Ryomen looks upset, he still allowed Yuji to stand on his thigh and stare in awe at his game’s visuals.

“He was supposed to be sleeping.” Ryomen claimed, you nodded,”Yeah, he walked out when I was grabbing the stuff and said some things.” He raised a brow, glancing at his little brother,”Like what?” There was a bit of annoyance in his tone, but you walked over, waving his suspension away,”Nothing bad, but how come I’ve never heard of this cutie?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms,”He’s anything but cute. His face is so annoying.” You raised a brow,”You guys have the exact same face.” He rolled his eyes,”Quit lying.” You giggled quietly, loving how moody the man was. Ryomen poked the boy's side, making him squeal,”I have told you about him, he’s just never around when you’re here.” You frowned,”Aw, that means I won’t be able to see him often.” Ryomen sighed,”Our parents are off on vacation and they didn’t want to pay for a babysitter so they dropped him off here,”

Yuji climbed down from Ryomen’s legs and grabbed your hand, pulling you down to the floor,”But what about during the weekdays? You don’t leave him here do you?” Ryomen gave you an unimpressed look,”No. of course I don’t. There’s a preschool close to here and I just drop him off before I go to class.” You hummed to his words, liking his response,”You’re pretty responsible Ryo.”

“Obviously. He’s my little brother.” You looked up at him with a small pout as Yuji played with your hair curiously. Ryomen scrunched his face,”Don’t look at me like that.” He motioned to the little boy who was crawling into your lap,”Our mom would kill me if I didn’t take care of that nuisance.” You gasped, collecting Yuji in your arms protectively,”He is not a nuisance. He’s a little angel.”

The man shook his head, turning back to his game,”Maybe to you.” You glared at the back of Ryomen’s head, then turned down to the boy in your arms,”He’s just jealous Yuji.” Though Ryomen acted like he didn’t care, he side-eyed the two of you, smiling to himself as you continued to entertain his younger brother.

The day carried on, sun falling past the horizon and that night you all had pasta, much to Yuji’s request. You all got ready for bed, letting Yuji use your moisturizer as he watched you in amazement. Ryomen picked up his brother once you were finished with your routine and the two of you walked to Yuji’s room. Unfortunately, when Ryomen opened the door, Yuji let out a pitiful whine and nuzzled himself closer into Ryomen’s chest. Your eyebrows crease and you pet his hair comfortingly.

Your boyfriend exhaled,walking into the room,”Come on Yuji, you gotta go to bed.” He let out a sound of disagreement and moved from his arms, reaching out for yours. Folding instantly, you took him from his brother, smiling as the little boy cuddled you. Ryomen stood there, a disappointed look on his face as he watched Yuji. You held him tightly, staring at Ryo with pleading eyes,”Please can he stay with us?”

His brow furrowed, but he ultimately gave into your puppy eyes,”Fine, but just this once. Never again.” You walked over, kissing him softly,”Thank you, Ryo.” It wasn’t a shocker when Yuji slept in your guy's bed, sleeping peacefully between your bodies.

[evieelyzabethh]

If it’s okay to request, may I request something in modern au (viktor x reader, established relationship) where jayce is hosting a costume party and reader dresses in something that makes her look super pretty (maybe I even suggest, her dressed as cowboy barbie, cause my bi self is obsessed with that look) and viktor gets handy with her. If you’re comfortable, can you make it nsfw or at lesser suggestive?

Definitely projecting as someone whose personal fav holiday is Halloween, but I imagine reader to be super stoked about it. Like the set up gets a big makeover that she forces Vik to help her with, there's a bunch of spiders and skulls and spooky decor all over the place, the ambient music transitions to creepy organs or the instrumental soundtrack of one of those old Hollywood horror movies. You definitely spare no expense when it comes to costumes, sometimes even going as far as to make it yourself.

Jayce isn't the biggest Halloween guy; he just likes the decor and the movies. While you went as cowboy Barbie, he definitely went as a plain cowboy, walking around shirtless with a huge cowboy hat atop his head and a lasso attached to the leather belt he's wearing. The denim jeans he wears are flared, just barely showing the brown boots that he bought to match with the suspenders the rest on his bare chest. The party is rather intimate, nothing more than a bunch of mutual friends, a bunch of pizza, and at least a gallon of Jungle Juice.

Now, you knew that Viktor wasn't going to be Ken. Even though his costume wouldn't be a matching hot pink, he thinks the fringe is silly and totally not his vibe. To be fair, he hasn't done a matching costume with you since you went as a Playboy Bunny, and even then, he only showed up in a suit and tie. He didn't even name the costume; he just went along with what everyone else assumed. That year, he was a man of many costumes: Men in Black, James Bond, Hugh Heffner, a bodyguard. Someone even thought it was a Legally Blonde reference, and he was Emmett. This being said, he has no issues with you going as cowboy barbie or any of the other skimpy costumes you've worn throughout the years, as long as he gets to tag along and see you in it.

He doesn't even have to worry about jealousy, it's incredibly clear who you came with. He doesn't force you to stay by him, but the way your gaze travels to him at parties, the pretty curls you spent hours on bobbing around as you move around to find him in the crowd makes it incredibly obvious who you're tethered to. The pink, starred ascot that had been around your neck had been undone by a bathroom make out session and could now be found around his wrist. When you talk to friends, you make yourself cozy next to him, the drink you've been nursing for the better part of an hour in your hand as you lay your head on his chest, squirming deeper into him as what he whispers in your ear makes you shiver.

And you think you're being slick, but the way his hand plays on your thigh and the look in your eyes getting farther away says everything. So, when you abruptly say your goodbyes, no one is surprised that your car stays parked out front for at least a half hour.

It's really not the most comfortable arrangement, knee deep in the passenger seat or whatever Chapel said. Your head keeps bumping into the steering wheel, even with the seat being pushed as far back as it'll go, but his hand at the back of your head absorbs most of the impact. You hear it in his voice when he hisses extra loud, his eyes closing as he weighs out whether or not it's worth it to pull you off and drive home. He knows if he asks you, you'll just tell him to drive as he sucks you off and he is desperate enough to do just that.

Especially with the way you look right now. He's always been the type to initiate eye contact, and with how good you look right now, your make-up miraculously intact thanks to whatever waterproof mascara you use, spit dripping from your chin to the top of your tits, your cheeks red, eyes a bit gone from the lack of oxygen, he could cum just by looking at you. His little reminders, "Don't forget to breathe, doll. Through your nose, you can do it.", are quite necessary with your refusal to pull off until he spills down your throat, and fuck is he thankful. If you were in a teasing headspace and decided to edge him now, tears already in his eyes, half his energy going to steadying his own breath so he didn't pass out and the other half trying to keep him from bruising the back of your esophagus, he would probably cry.

You'd been going at it for a while already, pay back for all the lingering touches throughout the night and looking too good in that suit. The languid licks trailing from his leaking tip to his balls couldn't even be hurried along by his hips shallowly bucking into your mouth. You were in your own little world, moaning around his cock, hands pressed firmly in between your thighs as you buck into nothing while his honeyed praise goes through one ear and rattles around in your brain and spills out between your legs.

"Just a bit more. Doin' so good. So close.", he groans, so good. And he really doesn't last much longer, spurts of his cum shooting down your throat as he shudders and whimpers through the aftershocks. That post-nut clarity hits like a semi-truck when he looks out the very foggy windows to see Jayce out the window holding the clutch you left behind, looking entirely too shocked to have just walked up to the window. It's the scariest thing he saw all Halloween.

[star--stilinski]

i need some much stiles

much stiles, much happy! jk, i understand ya. i just love making fun of typos because i'm actually evil.

☆

stiles is insatiable.

seriously, no matter how much you squirm and whine, he won't fucking quit. you started this, though. you suppose it might be warranted.

of course, your "starting it" was all in compassion. when he first asked (a husky mumble in your ear as he tugged at the waistband of your sweats), you had told him he'd be disappointed. that only certain guys really actually like it. that you haven't shaved, aren't pornstar pretty, your thighs might actually crush him.

and he took that very personally.

told you that "any real man knows getting crushed by thighs like yours while tasting your orgasm is the real way to end their evening" and went even further to say that "if you seriously expect me to be attracted to that child-looking shit then you're sorely mistaken." he then proceeded to lay you back and get comfy between your legs.

you didn't realize the monster you'd create.

he moaned when he first tasted you, after ample "warm up" (his words, not yours) and a good amount of ogling your up-close sex. his movements started off unsure and a bit sloppy, before he found his rhythm and got confident. from there, he was bringing you close and then pulling you back a few times, just for the fucking fun of it. it was the most torturous pleasure you'd ever felt.

after the first orgasm (where you unconsciously thanked him over and over, which unlocked a new kink for him. yippee.), your back arched slightly and your lips parted in a moan, you expected that to be it. the end. maybe a hand job for his fantastic work and then knocking out after a shower.

instead, stiles didn't even let up.

his eyes are closed, humming against your clit as he holds you by the thighs. partly because, well, stiles loves your thighs. and partly because he has to keep you still.

overstimulation hurts so good. you tug at his hair, gasping "stiles, it hurts, please," and he relents. but he only pulls back a bit, giving you a moment of relief as he licks his lips with hooded eyes trained on you.

"you okay, baby?" his words seem to bleed into one another, hands squeezing your plush thighs like he's holding himself back. the sight it downright evil, really; you've already forgotten how it hurt for him to keep going.

your head falls back onto your pillows and you scrunch your features up. "you don't have to-"

"please, i want to, please." his tone takes a rapid uptick into begging territory. "only a little longer, promise i'll be good, make you feel so good. just a bit more, yeah?"

you lift your head, tired and breathless, to meet his eyes. they're unfocused as he flicks his attention between you and your sex. letting your head rest back on the cushions, you take a deep breath and nod once. "alright, just a little longer."

"thank you, fuck. thank you so much baby." stiles litters kisses all over the insides of your thighs, his own way of showing gratitude before he dives back in, eyelashes notably fluttering when he takes a taste of you again.

he's not very kind after that.

round two, then three, and by the fourth- your jaw is slack and your brow is pinched together, but you're not sure if the expression is from pleasure or pain. when you come, actual tears prick at your eyes. stiles' tongue flicks your sensitive clit, working you over the edge, as you babble nonsense in your haze. this orgasm peaks with it's own bundle of pain involved, and your nerves seem to be getting the two mixed up as your hips attempt to twitch, held in place by stiles' big, demanding hands.

"tastes so good, mhmm, been thinking about this forever," stiles' words are barely audible as he looks up at you. his face is glistening, basically from nose to chin, and he's totally pussy drunk. you've never believed that expression until you see it in stiles' hooded eyes, head resting against your thigh. his cheeks are completely flushed and his hands are massaging your hips with more pressure than necessary, probably not even aware of the motion since his own hips are lazily grinding into the mattress.

you let out a heavy breath and smooth your fingers over his hair to try and fix what you did when you were preoccupied. it doesn't help the tameless mess he's sporting, but the look kinda suits him. "so?"

he blinks slowly, smiling up at you like you're the one who looks completely in love. well, you're four orgasms deep and stiles looks so pretty in between your thighs, so... maybe you do look like that. he licks his lips, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin. "so, what?"

"d-did- are you disappointed?" the question sounds stupid now that it's out of your mouth, but he's too far gone to even laugh at you.

"jesus, no. could do this all day if you'd let me." his brow furrows. "would you let me?"

you laugh breathlessly and let your head fall against the pillows, scratching his scalp lightly. "i dunno. maybe." tugging him by the hair (which causes a sudden buck of his hips where they're grinding. go figure) you mumble, "c'mere?"

he crawls over you, wiping his face off on the way, and collapses while pressing his face into your neck. "yeah? what're you thinking about?"

you breathe in his scent, mind filled with stilesstilesstilesstilesstiles. "you. what are you thinking about?"

his arms wrap around you comfortably. "you."

"you can't have the same answer." your voice is weaker with his body weight on you. "that's cheating."

"alright, fine. i'm thinking about eating you out again."

"jesus, stiles." you feel him smile against your neck, and his arms tighten around you.

"what? i'm hungry!"

"it's not a- god, i've made a monster!" you laugh and cover your eyes, feeling him lift himself halfway off of you. "this is going to be the death of me."

"correction," his voice lowers, and you feel him planting kisses down your neck, then your chest. as he gets to your stomach, you peek through your fingers to find him assuming his previous position.

"i'm going to be the death of you."

☆

yayyy i'm posting while in a slump!!!!!!!! yayyy i'm not a total failure!!!!!!!!!!! (sobs heard in the distance)

sorry this is my worst ever creation look at this ugly FREAK

[frostbitten-writer]

Secret

Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader

Tags: Not established relationship; no specific details abt R, only that they’re shorter than Ekko; mention of Shimmer as drugs; FLUFF

A/n: Another cute idea for a one-shot, enjoy 🫶🏻🤭 Plus, so many new Snowflakes joined, so in general welcome 💖❄️

The air was thick with tension, all of the fighters at the Tree were together in Ekko’s office, a massive map laid out on his desk, which, for this occasion, was put in the middle of the whole room. It was already past midnight, children and other people sound asleep while the group was having a heated argument. Everyone was tired, but the adrenaline rush that was palpable was keeping them awake. The arguments started to get louder, the debate about where Silco’s gang is going to show up the next time starting and finishing without a single, normal, or logical outcome.

The situation with shimmer was worse than ever, more people came to the tree, especially children that either escaped from child labour at the plants or from losing their parents. More people were drugged and laid on the streets, begging for a single coin that was definitely going to be invested into the radioactive, purple goo. The air was stiff and dry, the wooden floor almost invisible due to the different papers scattered all around it, or the different utensils they used while coordinating Silco’s next move, like a pair of dividers or a ruler.

Ekko felt like he was ready to rip his hair out. What do you mean he couldn’t find out where Silco was? What do you mean, he couldn’t magically figure it out?

His whole attire was messy, shirt dirty from the spilled coffee and face paint smudged from him rubbing his face in frustration. It was definitely not his best day, and he was not happy with how the meet-up was going. Everyone was already slumped in their seats, absolutely defeated and ready to give up. At that sight, Ekko grumbled and knocked some useless papers off the table.

“Are you guys even listening?! We are having a crisis right now! Look at the stats! We are running out of spaces and rooms, and yet the people still keep coming! Are you even getting what this means?!” He yelled out, the multiple oil lamps illuminating his glare. As Ekko continued his monologue, the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room. Ekko was still too devoted to his speech that he didn’t turn around to the door behind his back. His stance was broad, hands gripping the sides of the table tightly, so that his back and shoulder muscles tensed and flexed under his tank top. That’s only when he realised that something was wrong, since everyone's eyes weren’t fixed on him but on something behind him.

“What?! Did I grow wings or what!” He called out, before turning around and dropping his jaw.

There were you, bare feet touching one of the maps and a towel over your shoulders, as if you had only, only now left the shower. Your form was looking warm and cozy, a pair of black night shorts on and a white tank top that looked familiar.. with a jacket that looked a bit too familiar.. and an unmistakable.. orange infinity scarf around your neck. Ekko’s eye started to twitch. Didn’t you both agree on keeping the relationship secret?!

Before you could even say anything, Ekko tugged on your hand and out of the room, his face and ears cartoonishly red while the guys suddenly didn’t feel as tired as they were before seeing the amazing Ekko run around like a preschooler.

While you were laughing, he quickly pushed you against the wall, glaring, no, more like pouting down at you as you smiled sheepishly.

“What..?” You giggled quietly, feeling your knees buckling slightly and you slipping down the wall. Ekko quickly caught you up, sliding you up so you were making eye contact, feet and toes freely dangling down as he held you with a suppressed smile.

“What was this about?” He tried his best to do an intimidating glare, but you could see it right through him by the way he would bite his lower lip.

“What was about..?” You asked innocently, feeling like a little child. 

“You know perfectly well what I mean, that was anything but undercover…” He chided you, the only thing that was missing was his finger shaking in disapproval.

“I was cold, plus, the only thing that I found were your clothes..” You murmured quietly, avoiding eye contact, and before he could say anything, you interrupted him in his thought. 

“You know that they’re a lot more comfortable than mine!”

He let out a long sigh, both from tiredness and you, even though he would take being annoyed by you over Silco on any day. 

“You do know that I have a meeting..?” 

Nod.

“And you know that they are waiting..?”

Another nod.

“And you know that they will definitely ask questions..?”

This time you didn’t do anything but just stared into his eyes, pleading for understanding.

“You know-“ 

The door creaked open and Scar looked over to both of you, a knowing smile on his features.

“Um, so, whatever this is.. can it wait until after we discuss Silco and his plan?” He murmured, lazily stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched Ekko’s face fall once again in shame.

“Yeah- yeah.. of course..” He murmured and quickly let you down to your feet. Not knowing what to do and how to act around another pair of eyes watching you, he chastely pecked your cheek before entering the room again, and if you’re not wrong, you think you heard Scar laughing and Ekko cursing him out under his breath…

[starzradio]

BODY PAINT

the plan was just to get a tattoo for your birthday. so far so good. but how’d you end up getting eaten out too?

FEATURING: tattoo artist! geto suguru x female reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, pierced/tattooed geto, cunnilingus, hair pulling (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, doggy, pet names (pretty girl, cutie, etc.), finger sucking, spanking (once), creampie, kinda maybe perchance public sex(?)

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: anotha repost so if you’ve seen this b4, no you haven’t 😓

Portraits and portraits of art pieces covering the walls welcomed you as you stepped inside, the jingle of the bell perched on the front announcing your entrance. From dragons to variations of skulls—some with roses, lightning, and a couple of the grim reaper. You could easily lose yourself looking at all the different works, staring at how all the different lines came together and how the colors melded into one another.

“What're you looking for today?" A low baritone voice interrupted your brief exploration of the parlor. You turned to see a man standing at the counter with pigtails, a black line going across his nose and a couple piercings scattered across his pale face. How was it that you'd missed him upon walking inside?

"I was thinking about getting a tattoo, do you guys happen to accept walk-ins?" You responded, coming up to the counter where the man was standing. Choso, from what his name tag read. "We do, our current tattoo artist's busy though. You mind waiting about.. twenty minutes?"

You supposed it wasn't too bad after showing up without an appointment so you just simply nodded, going over to take a seat in the lobby. There was only one other person sitting on the end of the black sofa, their attention purely on the show playing on the TV mounted on the wall. You went from playing with your fingers to looking over at the TV, attempting to do anything that would make these twenty minutes pass by.

"Hey, go ahead and fill this out. And let me see your ID," Choso came back with a sheet of paper, a consent form. You fished for your ID in the back pocket of your jeans before handing it over to him, starting out with the task of filling out the paper. Signing your initials where it asked you to, reading through the different medical conditions that the paper explicitly listed out.

Your foot bounced against the floor as you waited, sudden nerves starting to hit you all at once now that you were in here. You knew that you wanted a tattoo, you'd been looking forward towards getting it for a few months now. But the little nagging voice inside your head told you that you could barely tolerate a needle at the doctor's office, and that was only for a couple seconds in of itself. How would you tolerate almost an hour of it?

A woman walked out from the back of the parlor, a tattoo of what seemed to be her birth year wrapped up in cling wrap. But your attention was quickly diverted to the man coming out after her—though, you supposed it would be hard not to stare at him. He was absolutely.. gorgeous. Long dark black hair that practically seemed to shine underneath the harsh lights tied back in a half bun, eyebrow and snake bites piercings accentuating the features of his face, and dark ink adorning his forearms.

"Here's the aftercare sheet, just shoot me a text or something if you have any concerns or anything," the man told the woman before she stepped away from the counter, handing her a white paper. The jingle of the bell echoed behind her as she left, leaving only the four of you alone in the lobby. Maybe this wasn't who Choso was talking about? You couldn't picture yourself or your panties for that matter lasting hours in a room with him.

Though, you probably should've expected as much with your luck.

"You got time for a walk-in?" Choso spoke up, nudging his head towards you when the other man was finished pocketing his tip. The man glanced over at you before pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through it for a couple seconds. "Yeah, I got time," the other man walked over, standing in front of you before extending a hand out, "Geto Suguru." The coldness from the silver rings adorning each of his fingers was a stark difference from how warm his hand seemed to be. You gave him your name, stopping the handshake before it prolonged more than it should've.

More than it already did.

"So, what type of tattoo were you looking for?" Geto pushed his hands in his pockets, standing back to allow for you to get up from the spot. "I'm not too sure how to describe it, but I have a reference photo, if that's okay?" You told him, getting your phone out to go back to your camera roll. "Yeah, that's fine. Just airdrop to me when you find it."

The smell of antibacterial spray filled your nose as you stepped in, the room somehow been more decorated than the one outside. Geto had a couple of his designs up on the wall along with a couple band posters—Nirvana, Iron Maiden, and Led Zeppelin being some of the more prominent ones. A couple figures placed on a shelf, photos decorating them as well.  "Go on and take a seat. I'll be right there," he told you, opening up one of his drawers.

You took a seat on the leather chair in the middle of the chair, leaning against it before looking over to see what he was doing. "So.. how bad is it supposed to hurt?" You decided to ask, bracing yourself for the worst answer that he could give you. Despite the fact that you knew arm tattoos weren't all that painful from the two hours of research you'd done. "I can't give you a straightforward answer since not everyone has the same pain tolerance. But I'll walk you through the process before I start."

"The first thing I'm gonna do is shave your arm," Geto started off, opening up a pack of razors in front of you. Almost like he wanted to reassure you that everything he was using was new. "Around what area do you want the tattoo?" You opened your arm, gesturing around your inner forearm. Geto shaved the hair around the middle, wiping the residue away with a tissue.

"Next thing I'm gonna do is rub some alcohol on there and put on this cream," he brought up a small container into your line of vision, "It's not numbing cream before you get any ideas. Just so the stencil sticks." The rest of the process had gone relatively fast, the smell of rubbing alcohol filling up the space between the two of you. Geto placed the stencil on your arm, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. "Is this placement okay or do you want me to change it? Don't hesitate to ask, since y'know.. it is kinda permanent."

After a couple minutes of deliberation, Suguru placed the stencil where you’d decided. "So I'm gonna go ahead and put the needle on your arm just to go ahead and see if you can tolerate it," the machine whirred to life with the press of a button, "If you don't think you can tolerate it, just let me know and I'll wipe off the stencil." Geto turned around to face you, the buzzing of the tattoo gun getting louder the closer it got to your arm. All the nerves that you'd felt earlier seemed so silly now. While you felt the pressure of the needle , it was nothing like the excruciating pain you'd heard others have.

You cleared your throat before looking back over at him again, "Yeah, I can handle it." Suguru simply nodded, uncapping the bottle of black ink before almost filling up the small container in front of him. He arranged the small containers almost perfectly aligned to each other, the small work space that he'd set in front of him looking meticulous. Even the napkin that he'd grabbed was neatly folded up in three squares.

You'd almost wished that it was Choso doing the tattoo instead. Because, this, well this simply just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how he managed to look so goddamn pretty just doing the most menial of tasks. The almost intoxicating scent of amber from his cologne filling up your senses with how close he was. You weren't sure if was better or worse for you that he didn't notice just how affected you were, of how much his presence alone was making you want to ditch the whole idea of getting a tattoo.

"You need something to help you relax? I got a couple stress balls hanging around or I could play something on the TV if you want," Suguru sat down on the rolling chair next to you, already grabbing the TV remote next to you. "Can you just play something, please?" Geto flickered through a couple of the channels available, settling on what was on the TV mounted outside. Not particularly your first choice, but enough to get your mind off the tattoo, at least.

And to get your mind off the very attractive man next to you trying to do his job.

"So, any meaning behind this tattoo or you just decided you wanted to get it?" Suguru broke the silence, though his focus was purely on tracing the piece of work in front of him. "Just saw it on Pinterest and I related to it a bit. Well, that and the design itself seemed pretty to me," you offered, staying still and keeping your attention on the TV. "I can follow the design that you showed me or I could try to improve on it. That is, if you have trust in my abilities," he spoke up after a couple seconds, purple eyes almost seeming to bore into you. 

"Can I see some of your abilities in place?" As hot as the man was—you didn't want to risk the tattoo coming out like complete dog shit. Suguru let out a short laugh, getting up from his spot before flipping through a couple drawers. He came back with a leather bound sketchbook, placing it on your lap. "I'm not much to show my works to others, but feel free to flip around if that helps you decide," you opened up the sketchbook with your available arm, immediately being greeted with a plethora of colors.

Not only were the pieces themselves better than what you could've expected, but they were so realistic. The shading of each drawing accentuating it perfectly against the lighting of the room, almost like he'd focused on that more than the actual drawing. You shut the sketchbook after flipping through a couple pages of different flowers, animals, and whatever else his brain could conjure up—handing it back to an expectant Geto. "It'd be wrong not to have faith in you after seeing that," you mused, watching him set the sketchbook aside before he went back to tracing.

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna follow the whole outline and shit. Just wanna make it look a little bit better is all," he responded, dipping the needle onto the container of black ink before bringing it back to your arm. You turned to look at much progress he'd done after the forty minute episode had ended only to realize he was just finishing up with the tip of the design. An incredibly detailed tip, though. "You okay? Don't want you passing out on me or anything."

"No, I'm fine," you reassured, going back to watching the TV in the comfortable silence that had built in the room. The only sounds emanating from the room were the soft whirring of the tattoo gun and the screaming of a couple characters on screen. "Have you watched this before?" You decided to break the silence after a while, turning to look over at him. "Something like that. Haven't watched much after the fourth season. Don't really have a buncha time available to watch TV."

The rest of the session had gone moderately well, the two of you sitting in silence for a majority of the time albeit for a couple questions that either he or you asked. He was, oddly enough, easy to talk to. "Okay, I'm gonna go in with a white paint. It's gonna hurt more than the other one so just tell me if it gets to be too much," he told you, pouring white paint into one of those small containers. And you felt the difference between the two, looking over to see him adding small marks with the white paint. Small marks that were starting to hurt like a motherfucker.

"Easy, you did so well for me throughout the session. This is nothing compared to that," Suguru spoke up, raising the tattoo gun to give you a small break. One of his gloved hands went to the furrow settled in your brow, gently easing it over before changing out the gloves for a fresh pair. You weren't even sure when you'd even started to grimace so badly. "Easy for you to say," you grumbled underneath your breath, certain that he wouldn't have caught it. But if the way his eyes shot up to look at you with a slightly amused smile was anything to go by, he did.

"You make it so hard to be nice to you," Geto muttered, turning the tattoo gun back on and going back to adding the fine white strokes. Maybe it'd been the fact that he'd offered that small bit of reassurance or maybe it was the fact that you could feel the session was starting to come to an end, but the pain didn't quite feel as bad as the first go. "Alright, we're all done," he spoke up after a couple minutes, turning the tattoo gun off and placing it on the table next to him.

"You mind if I get a couple pictures?" He waited for you to nod before setting up the ring light next to you, pulling his phone out. You extended your arm out to where he had the camera pointed, the tattoo on display. "Mm, hold on," Suguru muttered to himself, one of his hands wrapping around your wrist to adjust the angle. His touch almost seeming to linger more than necessary. Surely, all of this wasn't necessary just for a single photo, right? Especially when you weren't even the subject of said photo.

"You're gonna want to avoid shaving or waxing the area while it's still healing, some peeling's normal but just come to me if you have any concerns," he continued to explain the process of the aftercare involved, wrapping the tattoo up in cling wrap. "Try not to fuck it up," Geto led you over to the front desk, ringing you up for the price. "Wasn't it $120 and not $100?" You questioned, grabbing your wallet from your pocket.

"Consider it a birthday discount of sorts, pretty girl," the nickname spilled out so easily that you might've almost missed it. As if you needed more things to overthink about from this encounter. You handed him a hundred dollar bill with a ten dollar tip, giving him a short thanks before leaving the parlor. You looked over at the aftercare sheet that he'd given you at the counter, seeing his Instagram scrawled out in pretty decent penmanship. Well, at least you had plans for when you got back to your apartment tonight.

You knew that the tattoo was healing nicely—that you'd put the expensive ass ointment that Geto had recommended the designated three times a day. So why exactly did you find yourself standing outside the tattoo parlor once more? Out of concern for the new ink or just wanting to see Suguru once more? It couldn't be the latter, right? Not like you'd spent hours scrolling through his Instagram these last couple days to see what he'd thought about the tattoo. Definitely not the latter.

After all, he did say come to him if you had any concerns.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Choso to greet you at the counter this time around. Suguru was standing there, rearranging a couple pieces of body jewelry onto the glass display before he lifted his head to see who'd walked in the door. "You didn't let it get infected, did you? I spent hours on that thing," he didn't even bother with a greeting as Choso had done, already looking annoyed at the prospect. "Your concern for my health's endearing too."

"Yeah, yeah, what're you here for?"

"I just wanted to check up with you to see if the tattoo was healing nicely," the practiced lie slipped out of your tongue without any effort, plenty of rehearsals in your head allowing for it to slip out with any second thought.

"Alright, I have a couple minutes before my next appointment gets here," Suguru gestured for you to join him, opening the door for you. The space looked pretty much the same as the day you'd come in—which you should've expected, since it was only a week ago—albeit for a couple pencils scattered on top of a sketchbook in the middle of his desk. You took a seat on the leather chair, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his space.

Suguru grabbed a white box of gloves, grabbing a pair before placing them on. "So, what're you concerned about?" He questioned, long fingers running through your skin as he looked at how the tattoo was healing. "Well, it's been peeling a bit. I just wanted to know if that was normal or if I'm fucking something up somehow. I've been putting on the ointment you recommended three times a day."

Geto let out a small hum before leaning back on the rolling chair, folding his arms across his chest. His very muscular arms, the material of his black button down practically straining against them with the motion. "Your tattoo seems to healing well. Bit of peeling's normal as a new layer of skin comes in, nothing to worry about too much. Usually the area starts to get red if it's starting to get infected."

And maybe you should've taken that as a cue to leave. But you found yourself wanting to bask in whatever couple seconds that he would give you, unable to think about any other opportunities where you'd see him. Well, any other opportunities that didn't involve you spending upwards of a hundred dollars. You made no effort to move just yet, folding your hands over your lap. Trying to think of anything else to prolong this visit.

A couple moments of silence pass between the two of you before Suguru opens his mouth up to speak, only to get interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Yo, someone named Larue's here for their appointment," Choso called out from the other side, his foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Suguru gives you a glance before answering back, "Ask him to reschedule. Tell him that I'm sorry and I'll give him a discount or something."

Choso's heavy boots echoed against the floor as he walked away, leaving you alone with Geto once more. "So, tell me, what exactly is it that you're doing here again? And don't lie to me, talking about some 'I wanna see if my tattoo's healing properly,'" And you almost rolled your eyes at the way he raised his voice in pitch, mocking you with a short chuckle. Almost.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. Second, I really did just come to see if it was healing properly," And despite your words, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the chair just yet. "So maybe I should go tell Larue to come back for his appointment. Since we determined your tattoo's healing nicely, our time's done," You would've thought that he was bluffing but he moved to get up from his chair, walking over to the door.

"Wait," you called out before he managed to turn the doorknob, looking over to see him already staring at you with an expectant look on his face. Like he was about five seconds away from telling you to get off the leather chair. "So maybe, there's a slight chance that I didn't just come here just because I was concerned about my tattoo," you muttered almost reluctantly, avoiding looking at him directly.

"And why don't you try telling me why you came here instead?" Suguru stepped away from the door, returning to his spot in the seat next to you. Where you couldn't avoid looking at him even if you wanted to. How would you even begin telling him that he's been clouding your mind since last week just from that three hour interaction? That you've refreshed his Instagram page more times than you could count to see what he'd say about the piece?

You gulped, willing for the words to come out before he got the chance to go back to the door again. But you couldn't. Couldn't bring yourself to the potential humiliation that would inevitably come if you had just been delusional about this all along.

"You here because you want me to fuck you?" And the words that you'd struggled to spit out, he'd just said them so bluntly. You were expecting for him to look at you with that same mocking smile from earlier, but he seemed to be genuinely analyzing you. Waiting. "No, no, of course, I was just here to.." You hadn't quite rehearsed for this part in your mind.

"Because if you were, then I'd say that I was thinking about you too, cutie," and before you had the chance to respond, he was already speaking again, "So I'm just gonna ask you again. Are you here because you want me to fuck you?"

Now that there was little chance of your advances getting rejected, the word slipped out so easily, "Yes."

"Go on and lay back for me. Wanna taste you," and by how quick he was to get on his knees in front of you, you'd guess that he was doing this for his pleasure more than yours. "Lift up your hips," you followed his words without hesitation, letting him slide your jeans off and place them to the side. Large tattooed hands spread your thighs apart, presenting you like a feast to the man before you.

And you would've felt some ounce of embarrassment for the wet spot that quickly built up in the middle of your panties in just the five minutes of being here—if it weren't for the fact that Geto's cock was already straining against the material of his jeans. "Mph, fuck!" Geto quickly pulled your attention back to the issue at hand, his tongue prodding against your clothed cunt. "Not so loud, you don't want Choso to hear us," he clicked his tongue, giving you somewhat of a relief when he pulled away.

A very short lived relief. His tongue traced the outline of your slick folds through the material of your thin panties, his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue swirled against your clit, your cunt leaking out onto your underwear. You'd be lucky at this rate, if you could wear them back home. And almost like he'd read your mind, his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties before sliding them down to your ankles.

You waited to feel his tongue on your cunt again—but nothing came. You looked over at him, watching as he just observed your weeping pussy. "Thought you were eager to taste," you muttered, a scoff leaving from his lips. A gust of wind blowing to your cunt, your walls clenching all the much more. Eager to receive whatever he could give. "Let me admire for a bit. We got enough time," Suguru let out a small tsk after, his face in front of your cunt. And before you had the chance to say anything more—his tongue was already on your labia.

Your syrupy slick dripped onto his expecting tongue, his eyes almost rolling back at the taste. The small silver ball at the end of his tongue piercing flicked against your folds with every lick, each touch serving to have you clenching around pure air. Your hips bucked up to meet his movements, his large hands holding you down in mere seconds. "What'd I say? Let me enjoy this, pretty girl. Told you we got enough time."

"Such a tease," your grumbled words came out more breathless than you would've liked. "And you're so impatient," he retorted without missing a beat. A hushed whine escaped from your lips when you felt him pull away, his mouth moving to your inner thighs. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, nibbling down just hard enough for it to leave a mark behind. "Promise I'll take care of you, sweet girl. Have some trust in my abilities."

“You say that but your abilities have been less than stellar lately."

A couple dark locks fell out of place, framing his face almost perfectly. You'd almost expected Suguru to look offended at the implication of your words—but all he did was seem to find some kind of amusement. "Guess I'll have to repair that then," he murmured, more so to your cunt than to you, his tongue prodding in and out of your entrance. "You're not doing a g-Oh fuck!" He immediately made you swallow whatever retort you were planning, his tongue penetrating inside of you. 

Suguru swiped his tongue up and down your cunt, the lower half of his face covered in a mixture of your slick and his own spit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his nose prodding against your clit with every swipe that he made. "Keep looking at me, pretty. Keep those pretty eyes on me," you opened your eyes to see purple eyes already looking back at you, resuming his actions all too greedily. He was so messy when it came to eating you out—spitting into your cunt, watching almost all too eagerly as you clenched around the liquid.

"Please," a whine left your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair. Whatever act of defiance you'd tried to put on earlier had quickly faded away, all you were feeling was need. An almost slutty moan left his lips at the sudden tug, one of his hands grabbing on to yours. "Come on, you can pull harder, can't you?" An even louder groan escaped his lips at the harder tug you gave this time around—the tips of your fingers digging into his scalp. "Now, what were you saying please for?" His words came out muffled, his face buried in between your legs. "Your fingers, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Suguru took to that almost immediately, two long fingers pushing past the ring of muscle before curling to hit your g-spot. His mouth instantly attached itself to your throbbing clit, pushing through your clitoral hood to get to the bundle of nerves. "F-Fuck, don't stop, don't stop," you sounded like a broken record, your thighs pressing tightly against the sides of his face while his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum," any other thought that you had apart from cumming had been quickly fucked out of you, your grip on his hair tightening even further. Not that Suguru minded by any means, moaning against your cunt with every tug. The vibrations only added to the dual stimulation, your back arching off the chair. Needing to get more. Pushing your hips against his face, bucking up to meet every swipe of his tongue. "Cum for me, princess, come on. You can do it, right?"

All you could do was nod, not wanting to be any louder than you already had been. Part of you had been surprised that Choso hadn't come by knocking earlier. Suguru continued flicking his tongue around your clit, working in synchrony with his fingers to pull your orgasm out of you. "Fuck fuck, gonna cum!" You weren't sure if your muffled moan made it's way into Suguru's ears, watching as he eagerly lapped up your release. Running his tongue across his lips, your slick making them glisten under the lights.

"Get on all fours," Suguru told you after you'd managed to regain your breath, deft fingers working to unzip his jeans. You got on your stomach, resting it against the cold leather while getting on your hands and knees. And if Choso were to come into the room to be quiet now, he'd get a spectacular view of your ass perched up in the air. Suguru ran his cock against your folds, your slick lubricating it with ease after your previous orgasm.

Ridges running down his shaft brushed up against your tight walls, your slick coating his tip like second nature the further that he pushed it in. Your walls clenched and unclenched rapidly in a futile attempt to get used to the pure stretch of his cock. "You can take it, right? This isn't anything," But the sheer girth of his cock was just enough to dispute that statement, the position making him feel much deeper than he was. "Yeah, yeah, I can take it," your voice came out as a mewl, your grip on the leather getting tighter the more he pushed his cock in.

The rhythm that he started up was fairly slow at first, allowing you to get used to the feeling. Whatever he was lacking in length, he certainly compensated for it with the sheer size of his girth. Just a couple inches inside of you and he'd already stuffed you full. "Doin' so good, gonna speed up, okay?" He waited for you to nod, retracting his cock before pushing the full length inside of you with one sharp thrust. Your mouth went agape, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head upon the impact. "So good, so so good," even after a couple thrusts, he already sounded so obsessed.

"That's ittt, that's my girl. Fuck that ass back into me," A strangled groan left his throat at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling underneath him with every thrust, the two of you moving in tandem. One of the hands that'd been on your waist went to cup whatever he could of the flesh, all too entranced with the vision presented in front of him. "Mm, fuck!" A moan left your lips as you felt the palm of his hand strike against the flesh, your ass stinging from the impact. Not to say that you necessarily hated it, by any means.

And Suguru caught it—the way your slick ran down his shaft at the sudden impact. "Should've fucking guessed you would've liked it," his tone practically dripped in condescension as he spoke, his hand going to cup your other ass cheek. Holding the flesh in his hands before giving you another harsh slap, almost rivaling the harsh smack of his hips against your own. "Shit shit, Geto, don't stop," you whined, pushing your ass back into him. "Think it's okay for you to call me Suguru after bein’ inside you and all."

"Suck," a simple command, two of his fingers in front of your face. Your tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting the remnants of your cum on them before letting it fall flat. Simply sucking on his fingers as his cock pushed in and out of you with such fervor. "Get 'em all nice and wet for me, just like that," Suguru pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth the second you started to get too loud again, tears building up at your waterline when you gagged on them. "Aw, don't cry, cutie. Y'know I had to."

And while his words were meant to be reassuring, the mocking tone of his voice was anything but. Spit dribbled down from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the chair beneath you. "Sugu-Sugu, fuck, right there!" He'd adjusted the angle of his hips, his shaft brushing up against your g-spot with every thrust. "So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was accentuated with a deep thrust of his hips, filling you up impossibly so. Like he wanted to show you just how much he'd been thinking about it, like he claimed he did.

If the moans coming out of you weren't evidence enough as to what was happening in the room, then you were pretty much certain that the plap! plap! echoing through the walls was evidence enough. Geto's heavy balls smacked against your ass with every harsh thrust of his hips. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing at the nub just in time for it to match his pace. You clamped around his cock like a vice, a strangled moan leaving out of his lips. "Just had to tell- shit me that you wanted my cum, ma."

"Mph, cumm- I'm cumm-" Muffled babbles left your mouth, your cunt clenching around him yet again. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. Whatever small bits of concern about being too loud had been disregarded—loud squelches and skin clapping filling up the room as Suguru rutted inside of you. You turned your head to look over at him, the sight before you almost like something out of a painting. His hair had completely been released from the half-bun, cascading down his back perfectly and his eyes were closed in pure bliss.

Spurts and spurts of cum shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching as you milked him for whatever he could offer. Suguru pulled his softening cock out of your cunt, his cum starting to dribble out of you and down your thighs. With the same fingers he'd had inside your mouth, he pushed his cum back inside of you. Scooping the substance up with relative ease. Your body slumped against the chair, willing that Geto would give you a couple seconds to catch your breath.

You'd expected him to grab a wipe or a paper towel to clean you up with, but he simply got up from his spot behind you. Grabbing his pants off the floor and fastening up his fly. You looked over at him through half lidded eyes, seeing him pop the fingers that had previously been in your cunt into his mouth. Slurping at them in a similar fashion that you'd done just a couple minutes prior. "Wanna taste yourself, pretty girl? 'S so fucking good."

Geto didn't give you a chance to respond before he was leaning down to your level, one of his fingers underneath your chin to raise your head. He leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a messy exchange. More of spit getting intertwined than an actual kiss, not that you minded in your state. His tongue flicked against yours, the bittersweet taste of both you and him combined filling your tastebuds. Geto pulled away after a couple seconds, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

You hadn't even finished putting on your pants yet when Suguru spoke up yet again,

"You mind giving me a five star review when you get home?"

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[v6quewrlds]

NSFW A-Z, JUSTIN HERBERT.

pairing⠀⁎⠀justin herbert x high school sweetheart!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀8.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀nsfw a to z with justin.

author's note⠀⁎⠀had an idea for a fic with justin & a high school sweetheart reader and it spiraled into this. a mixture of blurbs & headcanons. might revisit this pairing again. warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, smut, second person [she/her], somewhat dom!justin vibes?, unprotected sex, creampie, discussion of masturbation, size kink bc duh, oral sex, dry humping.

A = Aftercare

It's never just one round with Justin. His stamina, much like his performance on the football field, is unrivaled. She can't help but feel a mix of exhaustion and pride as she lies beside him, both of them panting and sweaty. His arms, muscular and warm, wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace. He kisses her forehead tenderly, a gesture that feels both familiar and reassuring. In the quiet that follows her passionate escapade, his hands rub slow circles into her back, his thumb tracing the outline of her spine as if mapping the contours of her soul.

He was always just a little more still after they were tangled in their sheets, his heartbeat a comforting drum in her ear as she lay against his chest. She felt the gentle rise and fall of his breath, the steady rhythm lulling her into a state of pure contentment. His skin was a warm blanket, the scent of their combined sweat and the faint musk of their love a heady perfume that she breathed in deeply. She knew that Justin took pride in his aftercare, ensuring that they stayed warm and felt loved.

The two of them would lay together for a while, their bodies slowly cooling, their breathing returning to normal. Justin's hand would drift down to her waist, his fingers tracing the soft curves of her body. Her favorite part was when he'd lowly whisper any and everything that came to mind, sharing his thoughts as if he were reading from a diary that only she had access to. It was their little post-coital ritual, a time where no words were too intimate, no secrets too dark.

B = Body Part

Justin adjusted his dry fit shirt, blue eyes scrutinizing how the fabric stretched over his torso in the mirror. He rolled his shoulders back, watching as his shoulders broadened and his chest puffed forward with a breath. He ran a hand through his freshly trimmed, dirty blonde hair, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he turned his attention to find a Nike cap to complete the look.

She glanced over at him, parting her straightened hair down the middle to pull it into the neatest ponytail she could manage. With a stifled laugh, she shook her head at his vanity, but the love in her gaze was undeniable. She knew Justin's favorite body part of his were his shoulders. They were broad and strong, a testament to the countless hours he spent in the gym, sculpting his body to perfection. He'd flex for her often, joking about how they could double as a shelf. It was his way of showing off without being too obvious, and she found it utterly adorable.

"What?" Justin's eyes flicked to hers, catching her stare, the smirk on his face growing wider. He knew exactly what she was thinking. "You got something to say?"

She released a small chuckle, the sound like a warm breeze through a quiet room. "Just admiring the shelves," she teased, her voice light and playful.

Justin shot her a look of mock indignation before his eyes softened, a knowing smile playing across his lips. "What could you possibly like more than these bad boys?" He smiled, rolling her shoulder back dramatically.

She pretended to think, tapping her chin with a manicured finger. "Hmm, let me see," she said, her voice thick with playfulness. She stepped closer to him, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Reaching up, she gently touched his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. "I think I might have to go with these guys," she murmured, pressing her hands flat against his pecs and giving them a little squeeze.

Justin's eyes widened in feigned surprise, and he grabbed her wrists, playfully holding them away from his chest. "Woah, don't go getting any ideas," he said, though the heat in his gaze told her he didn't mind the attention at all.

She giggled, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "But seriously," she continued, "I love your smile. It was the first thing I noticed about you after I got over the height shock."

Justin couldn't hold back said smile from her comment, his cheek dimpling slightly as his cheeks began to flush pink. He leaned down, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Thank you, baby," he whispered, his voice a low rumble.

"What about me? What's your favorite part of me?" She asked, her voice a soft purr as she stepped closer, the warmth of their bodies mingling, her arms slinking around his slender waist.

Justin paused for a moment, his eyes scanning her face as if conflicting. "The PG answer would be your eyes," he said, his voice low and sincere. "They're like warm chocolate, inviting and filled with so much depth. But if we're being totally honest here..."

She felt a thrill of anticipation run through her as he trailed off, her pulse quickening. She knew where this was going and she liked it, a lot.

"The not-so-PG answer?" she prodded him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of mischief.

Justin leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Don't act like you don't know," he whispered, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

She bit her bottom lip, her fingers pressing circles into his lower back as she felt the heat of his words. She knew exactly what he meant, but she enjoyed the thrill of seeing him speak the dirty thoughts she knew he had. "Oh, I know," she murmured back, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm. "But I just love it when you say it out loud."

Justin chuckled, his hands moving down to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing teasingly over her nipples. "Well, if you insist," he said, his voice thick with desire. "The not-so-PG answer, your boobs. They're perfect, babe. So soft, but firm, and the way they fit in my hands..."

"Justin," she admonished, though her voice was breathless, giving away her true feelings. He chuckled, his grip on her tightening for a moment before releasing her.

C = Cum

Justin Herbert is a freak. That's what she thinks as she watches him get dressed, his body moving with the grace of an athlete, his shoulders flexing as he pulls on a clean, white t-shirt. She can't help but stare at his crotch, the outline of his semi-erect cock still visible through the fabric of his sweatpants. She bites her lip, remembering the feel of him inside her. His sticky cum warming her insides as she remains perched on their bed, thighs pressed together to keep it from dripping out.

Her eyes drift down to her own body, the way her chocolate skin glows in the soft light of their bedroom. Her breasts are full and sensitive, nipples still hard from the attention they've received. She runs her fingers over them and a shiver runs down her spine. Justin catches her in the act and raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he finishes lacing up his sneakers.

It's a strange, primal feeling, one she's never really been able to put into words, but it's something she's grown to love. The way he takes her so thoroughly, so completely, until he can't hold back anymore and releases himself inside her. It's like a declaration of ownership, a silent promise that she's his and he's hers. It's messy and raw, but it's also incredibly intimate.

"Should keep you warm 'till I get back, yeah?" Justin winked, he was always so casual about it, but she knew it was his way of showing he wasn't ashamed, that this was just a part of their love.

She nodded, tilting her head up as he hand reached down to cup her cheek, thumb tracing her plump bottom lip. "I'll miss you," she murmured, her voice thick with desire and a hint of sadness.

"I'll be quick, baby," Justin promised, planting one last kiss on her lips before he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. She watched him go, the feeling of his touch still lingering on her cheek where he'd touched her. She felt a pang of something, a yearning that made her stomach clench.

D = Dirty Secret

There wasn't much Justin wouldn't do to keep her happy, to keep her smiling and humming with satisfaction, but he had his own little secret, something that even in their most intimate moments he kept hidden. He had a bit of a voyeuristic streak. It didn't manifest often, and never in a way that would make her uncomfortable, but every once in a while, when she thought he was out of the room or busy with something else, he'd catch a glimpse of her in the shower or getting dressed and he couldn't help but watch. It was the way she moved, the way her body flowed like water, naturally and unabashedly.

E = Experience

Being each other's firsts for almost everything intimate, she and Justin had grown together in experience, exploring every inch of each other's bodies with the excitement of new lovers and the patience of old souls reunited. They'd stumbled through clumsy moments and laughed at awkward attempts, but with each encounter, they learned more about what the other liked, what made their hearts race, and what made them moan in ecstasy.

It took them a decent amount of time to work up the courage to talk about what they liked and what they didn't in the bedroom. But once they did, the floodgates opened, and they discovered a whole new level of intimacy. Justin was a quick learner, always eager to please her. He studied her responses like he was memorizing a complex playbook, making mental notes of what made her breath hitch and her eyes roll back.

F = Favorite Position

"Fuck," she moaned under her breath as she felt the familiar warmth spreading from her core. Her back was pressed firmly against Justin's broad chest as they lay on their sides, his lips pressing lazy kisses along her neck and shoulder. She whimpered as his cock nudged against that sweet spot, the friction from his movements causing delicious shivers to dance along her spine. "Gonna cum," she breathed out, her voice barely audible as she attempted to refrain from screaming out her pleasure.

Justin's grin was wicked as one hand held her open for him. His large hands gripping her thigh, his cock slipping in and out of her with a steady rhythm that had her toes curling and her nails digging into the bed. This was his favorite position, spooning her from behind. It was intimate, yet dominating. He could feel every inch of her, every shiver and tremble, every gasp and moan. It was like he was reading her body like a book, each sound and movement a page telling him how close she was to the edge.

G = Goofy

She tried to stifle a giggle as Justin's teeth nipped at the inside of her thighs. He knew she was ticklish, and the action was entirely intentional. "Justin," she breathed, half in protest, half in pleasure. He just chuckled against her skin, biting the sensitive skin again she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"You're so bad," she murmured, her voice a mix of reprimand and arousal.

"Shh, just relax," he whispered back, his voice teasing as he continued to explore her body with his mouth, his teeth grazing her skin.

H = Hair

Whether it was the hair on his head or in other places, during the season, Justin held very little space in his brain for anything other than football, her, and food. His blonde hair was often a messy halo around his head, the result of countless hours under the helmet and even more under the shower. But she didn't mind. She liked the way it fell into his eyes, the way it felt against her fingertips as she'd run her hands through it while they cuddled after a game.

And when it came to other regions, Justin's grooming habits were meticulous, much to her delight. He kept himself well-trimmed and clean, a courtesy that she appreciated more than he knew. She figured it was the locker room environment that forced him to pay attention to such details, but she liked to think it was just one of the many ways he made sure she stayed happy.

I = Intimacy

Her nails dug into Justin's biceps as he drove his hips into hers, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Sweat-slicked skin, their breathing ragged, the air heavy with the scent of their passion. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as he pressed his forehead against hers. Blue eyes searched brown, looking for any sign that she was ready. When he found it, that little spark of pleasure in her gaze, he thrust harder, pushing them both closer to the edge.

Their noses nudged against each other, moans spilling into each other's open mouths as the intimacy between them grew, swelling like the crescendo of a symphony. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Justin's teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. His tongue traced the line of her jaw, lapping at the salty taste of her sweat, and she shivered in response, her body arching back to give him better access.

"Mm," she moaned, her voice a sweet hum of pleasure that danced around the room. She felt Justin's cock thicken inside her, his grip tightening around her right thigh as he increased his pace. Her hands found his hair, her fingers curling into the soft strands. She pulled his head back, exposing his neck to her eager mouth. He tasted like salt and sweat, a heady mix that sent a thrill down her spine. She lightly bit at his Adam's apple, core fluttering as he moaned in response.

Justin's eyes rolled back, his pupils blown wide as her teeth grazed his neck. He could feel the orgasm building, his balls tightening as her walls began to spasm around him. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, whispering sweet nothings that only added to the crescendo of pleasure building between them. He knew just how much she liked it when he talked dirty, but he also knew when to pull back and let the quiet moments speak louder than any words.

They were both experienced enough to know when the other was close, and she could feel the tension in Justin's body as he held back, waiting for her. She didn't need to say anything; her grip on his hair, the way her hips met his thrusts, told him everything he needed to know. He felt her pussy tighten around his cock, her breaths hitching in that telltale pattern that signaled she was about to come. And when she did, it was like a dam had broken. Her nails dug into his skin, her back arching off the bed as a keening cry tore from her throat.

Justin followed her over the edge, his orgasm hitting like a wave, strong and all-consuming. He groaned, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he pumped his seed deep inside her. The sensation of her body contracting around his was heavenly, and he held on, savoring the feeling as it washed over him.

J = Jack Off

Neither of them are big on masturbation, not when they have each other. But when they're apart, like when Justin's on the road, she finds herself with more than just idle hands. Her fingers trace the outline of her clit, the memory of his touch guiding her movements. She imagines it's him, his rough palms and skilled fingers working her over until she's begging for more.

Justin rarely had time to indulge in solo play during the season. Between the constant physical exertion and his demanding schedule, his body was usually too exhausted to crave additional release. But on those rare occasions when the need struck him, he found solace in his own hand. He'd stroke himself slowly, remembering the way her tight grip felt around his length, her soft moans echoing in his mind. He'd close his eyes and think of her face, the way her eyes rolled back and she struggled to catch her breath when she climaxed. It was never the same as the real thing, but it helped to ease the ache of being apart.

Despite being more than comfortable with each other's bodies, they had only talked about their masturbation habits once or twice in college. Phone sex had, similarly, only happened once, a desperate attempt to bridge the distance between them when Justin had been at a summer training camp. It had ended with both of them feeling more frustrated than satisfied, the phone call quality too poor to make it worth the effort.

K = Kink

Being 6'6", it was inevitable that Justin had developed a size kink. The power dynamics that came with his towering frame and her comparable smaller one had become a subtle but significant part of their sex life. He enjoyed making her feel small and delicate, his hands spanning her waist as he picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bed. She, in turn, loved the feeling of being utterly consumed by him, his size a constant reminder of his dominance in the most caring of ways.

There was something about putting all her trust in him, letting him do as he pleased, that made her feel both vulnerable and incredibly powerful. It was a thrill that never got old, and it was one of their unspoken kinks. She liked it when Justin took control, when he pinned her down and drew the sweetest sounds from her lips. It was like he was claiming her all over again, every single time they were together.

L = Location

Privacy had always been the most important thing to Justin. With his celebrity status, any slip-up could lead to a PR nightmare. In public, any hint of temptation was swiftly dismissed, a quick peck on the cheek or a squeeze of the hand was all he allowed himself. But in the confines of their sprawling Brentwood home, the walls of their master suite were witness to their uninhibited passion.

Their favorite spot was the large four-poster bed with the soft, white linens that looked almost virgin in their pristine state. But once they began to move together, the sheets would be a tangled mess of sweat and desire, stained with the evidence of their love. The room was spacious, with large windows that looked out over the sprawling backyard, but they rarely drew the curtains, preferring the dim light of the setting sun to play across their skin as they lost themselves in each other's embrace.

On occasion, she and Justin indulged in their more adventurous side, pushing the boundaries of their comfort zones and getting carried away in the hot tub on their secluded patio. The jets of water caressed their bodies, creating a gentle, rhythmic pulsing that mimicked the throbbing between their legs. The night sky above them was a blanket of stars, twinkling down like a silent audience to their passionate display.

Other times, they would spill into the living room, eagerly pulling at each other's clothes as the fireplace crackled in the background, the flickering light casting shadows across their entwined limbs. The plush couch would creak under their weight as Justin took her from behind, her moans muffled by the cushion as she buried her face into the fabric. He'd whisper filthy things into her ear, his breath hot and heavy as he pushed into her, the friction driving them both wild.

The rarest of locations was the kitchen island. It was usually reserved for quick kisses and midnight snacks, but every so often it became the stage for a passionate encounter neither of them had planned. She had been up late, working on a particularly difficult assignment, and Justin had stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water. She'd looked up from her laptop, bleary-eyed and frustrated, and their eyes had met over the gleaming countertop.

Without a word, Justin had set the glass down and crossed the room, his cock already hardening as he approached her. He'd hoisted her up onto the cold marble, the shock of the cold sending a delicious shiver through her body. He kissed her hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth as his hands found her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh. She moaned into his mouth, her legs wrapping around his waist as he ground against her.

Within minutes, the kitchen counter had become a battlefield of passion, her laptop shoved aside as they gave in to the animalistic urgency that had overtaken them. The scent of their desire mingled with the faint lingering aroma of dinner, and the cool marble a welcome counterpart to the heat of their bodies. Justin's hands roamed her curves, tracing her waist before sliding under her shirt to cup her breasts. He palmed them greedily, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting gasps that were swallowed by his hungry kisses.

M = Motivation

She stood eagerly along the sidelines, neck straining as she attempted to catch a glimpse of Justin, hoping to give him a good luck kiss before he took the field. The air was electric with excitement and anticipation, the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant aroma of stadium food wafting through the air. Despite the roar of the crowd, she felt a sudden sense of peace, her heart fluttering in her chest as her eyes locked with his. His grin was infectious, white helmet in hand as his long legs carried him towards her.

She felt a rush of warmth spread through her as Justin's gaze met hers, his blue eyes piercing through the chaos. She knew that look, the one that said he took note of her choice of attire. The oversized '10' jersey fell large over her frame, falling to her mid-thigh, black biker shorts peeking out from underneath, revealing her brown, moisturized legs. It was a tease she knew he appreciated, and she bit her bottom lip in a playful challenge.

Justin stepped closer, his matching jersey clinging to his chest, and whispered, "Love what you're wearing, baby," his voice filled with mischief. His hand slid down her side, grazing the fabric of her shorts before giving her a gentle pat on the ass. It was a simple gesture, but it was all the motivation she needed to feel a flood of arousal between her legs. She knew what he was thinking, what he wanted.

"Kiss?" She whispered against his ear, her breath hot and sweet. She knew he would never go for it but she always asked anyway, shamefully hoping to break him down one day.

"Can't risk it," he murmured back, his voice thick with regret. "But I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise."

Her face warmed at the promise, her heart racing in anticipation. She nodded, whispering, "Go kick some ass, 10." With one last smile, he pulled away, the pads of his fingers leaving a tingling imprint on her skin.

Wins were always sweeter with her waiting for him. After the game, showered and dressed in his street clothes, Justin felt a new kind of energy coursing through his veins. The adrenaline from the win mixed with the anticipation of what awaited him at home.

N = No

Justin had always drawn a hard line when it came to what he was comfortable doing in public. He knew all too well the consequences of a misstep. Living in Los Angeles, there was always someone with a camera lurking, ready to capture the most intimate of moments. So he was firm in his stance that certain acts were strictly reserved for the privacy of their home. She was lucky if he did anything more than hold her hand or give her a peck on the cheek in public, even when the desire to devour her whole was practically eating him alive.

Even around their families, she and Justin remained relatively chaste. Exchanging quick pecks when they thought no one was watching, their thighs pressed together when he pulled her chair closer to his at the dinner table. It wasn't that they were shy or embarrassed, but rather they enjoyed keeping some things just for them. The secret glances, the knowing smirks, it was their silent love language that spoke volumes without a single word.

In private, Justin's hardest no was anything that didn't include her consent. He'd always made it clear that their relationship was built on trust, respect, and open communication. While he had his kinks and fantasies, he knew that pushing her boundaries without her full consent was a betrayal of the love they shared. He'd seen the way some of his teammates treated their partners, the casual disregard for boundaries that often left the women feeling used rather than loved. He was determined never to be that kind of man, out of respect for her and her comfort.

That line included any form of degradation. He recognized that being married to a professional athlete came with a certain level of scrutiny and pressure, and he wasn't about to add to that by treating her poorly in any way, especially in their intimate moments.

O = Oral

Gun to his head, Justin wouldn't be able to choose. He adored giving her head, worshipping at the altar of her pussy like it was the holy grail. Her taste was an intoxicant, the sweetness of her arousal a potent elixir that he never tired of. His tongue slithered over her folds, delving into her depths with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Her legs would shake, her back arching off the bed as he worked her over, her moans guiding him like a siren's call to a sailor lost at sea.

He would spend the rest of his life between her thighs if she'd let him. He always took his time, savoring the moment, drawing out her pleasure until she was a trembling mess. She would try to push him away, her body too sensitive, but he knew better. He'd hold her down, his strong hands anchoring her to the bed, and continue to lick and nip and suck as if starved.

On the other hand, he quietly craved the feeling of her mouth around him, the way her eyes would lock onto his as she took him in deeper. She had a way of making him feel like a king with every swipe of her tongue, every gentle suck. She was meticulous, eager to learn what made him moan, what made his toes curl, and what would make him come undone. And when she finally took him all the way in, her throat tight and hot, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

Deep moans would dissolve into hitched breaths and curses as she worked him over, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. The sight was almost too much for him to handle—his beautiful, shy wife, on her knees, her mouth full of his cock. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, introverted woman he knew her to be in the outside world, but here, in the sanctuary of their bedroom, she was a goddess of passion, unleashing a side of herself that only he got to see.

It drove him wild, that secret power she had over him. The way she could bring him to his knees with just a look or a touch. His head would fall back, the veins in his neck standing out as he chased his climax, his eyes rolling back in his head. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she watched him lose control.

P = Pace

She felt the heat between her legs build as she squirmed on the counter, her pussy aching to be filled. She braced herself against the cool marble, her thighs falling open as Justin's hand trailed up her leg, teasing her inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, a delicious torment that made her whimper for more.

"Needy little thing," Justin murmured, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of her wanton display. "Pussy's begging for it, isn't she?"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling. She was already so wet, she could feel the slickness of her arousal coating her thighs. Her cotton shorts were a flimsy barrier that she desperately wished would disappear.

Justin's hand slid under the hem of her shorts, his fingers finding their way to her clit with undeterred precision. He began to rub her in tight, firm, fast circles as he leaned in to kiss her again. The contrast of his roughness and the gentle caress of his lips was like a lightning strike to her core, making her quiver and gasp. She could feel the muscles in her thighs tense, the pressure building as he teased her closer and closer to the edge.

The kitchen light bounced off his silver wedding band, a stark contrast to his tanned skin as he slid his hand into her shorts. She gripped the counter harder, her stomach tensing. His thumb circled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep her on the precipice of orgasm. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her in place as his kiss grew more demanding.

Justin's hand slid down, his middle finger pushing into her wetness. Her legs quivered as he began to pump in and out of her, setting a pace that was both maddening and exquisite. She could feel herself getting wetter, her juices coating his digit. The sound of their kisses and her muffled moans filled the kitchen, the only noises in the otherwise quiet house.

Q = Quickie

During the season, their sex life practically survived on quickies. With Justin's demanding schedule and her work commitments, moments alone were scarce, making their stolen encounters even hotter. They'd often find themselves in the shower, the warm water cascading down their bodies as they kissed with an urgency that only came from knowing they had to be quick.

Justin would pin her against the tiles, his hand squeezing her ass as he slid into her, the steam rising around them like a curtain of passion. She would wrap her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back as they moved together, the water making their skin slick and their movements more intense. The rush of pleasure was always worth it, even if it left them both panting and wanting more.

Quickies were a guilty pleasure for her, a chance to get her fill of Justin when time was not on their side. She liked the urgency, the way their bodies collided with no preamble, no time for shyness or self-consciousness. It was raw, primal, and incredibly satisfying, leaving her feeling both relieved and famished for the next time they could be together.

They would try to get their fill whenever possible. After a particularly intense game, in the morning before the world woke up, in the middle of the night when insomnia struck, and in the afternoon when they should be trying to nap.

The offseason was the direct opposite. They could go over a week without feeling the urge to jump each other's bones at every opportunity. It was a natural ebb and flow to their relationship, a chance to catch their breath and enjoy the quiet moments together. When they did have sex, it was usually slow and sensual, a chance to reconnect after the chaotic season.

Rounds stretched into a marathon of passion as she and Justin lost themselves in each other. Her nails dug into his back as she met every thrust with eager hips. Their bodies moved in a symphony of desire, the only music the slap of skin and the wet sounds of their union.

R = Risk

"How many times do you think you could come?" She asked, the question leaving her lips in a casual fashion as they lay entangled together in between crisp white sheets. Justin was still half-asleep as the sun began to peek through the windows of their bedroom.

Justin's eyes snapped open, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Is that a challenge?" he murmured, his voice still gruff from sleep.

"Now you pay attention?" She teased, her voice a low purr as she traced her fingers through his hairline, feeling the softness of the strands between her digits.

Justin's grin grew wider. "Always do, baby," he said, his hand snaking down to her waist, giving it a firm squeeze. "But I'm guessing you've got something in mind?"

"I think you've got two max." She said, her voice dripping with confidence. "You're always a little out of it after the first. But we can test it?"

Justin's eyes sparked with a competitive fire. "You're on," he murmured, rolling them over so that she was straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips.

S = Stamina

Justin lasts unfathomably long. It's a trait that she both adores and is slightly envious of. She can rarely match his energy, often coming twice before he even considers announcing his own release. But she tries, oh how she tries. There's something about watching him, feeling him, that makes her want to push him to his limits. It's a silent competition they've had since they were younger and inexperienced, each eager to outdo the other, to give the most pleasure.

He's like a well-oiled machine in bed, his body moving with precision and strength that mirrors his performance on the field. But it's not just his stamina that amazes her, it's his ability to keep her on the edge, to read her body like a book, to know exactly when to push her over.

Justin's stamina wasn't just physical, it was mental too. He could keep going for hours, bringing her to the brink and pulling her back, only to do it again and again until she was begging him to let her come. He thrived on her reactions, the way her eyes would roll back, the way she'd bite her lip and arch her back, her nails digging into his skin.

T = Toys

It's just not his thing. She has a vibrator, a small pink device that she enjoys when he's out of town. It's not something they talk about often, but the unspoken understanding is there. They respect each other's needs and privacy. On more than one occasion, she's caught him staring blankly at the small, harmless toy tucked into her nightstand drawer, eyes squinted at his competition.

When they're together, toys are never part of the equation. Justin's hands, mouth, and cock are more than enough for her. Plus, the idea of sharing her with anything else makes him possessive in a way that's both thrilling and a little intimidating. He's not a toy person—her body was more than enough for him.

U = Unfair

She was perched in Justin's lap, sitting pretty in her favorite seat. His blue eyes were hidden from view as he released shallow breaths through his nose, trying his best to keep his hands to himself. It was a game they often played, one that usually ended with her skipping away with a self-satisfied hum and Justin glaring at her with a mix of love and annoyance.

Her hips rocked into his clothed erection, soft moans escaping her lips as she smiled with a wicked grin. There was too much fabric between them for Justin's taste, but he knew better than to push it. She had a way of teasing him that made him crazy with need, and he wasn't about to ruin the moment by rushing her.

"You're such a tease," he murmured, his voice strained as his cock grew harder against her.

"Poor baby," she pouted with a mocking tone, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the power of it made her feel alive. "I'm literally sitting on your dick. What more could you possibly need from me?"

Justin's jaw clenched as he fought the urge to rip her shorts off. "You know what I want," he said, his voice low and gruff.

She leaned in, her breath hot against his neck. "Do I?" she whispered, her teeth grazing his skin. "Tell me, baby."

"Sweetheart," Justin warned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. Her hands pressed against his chest, using him as leverage to grind herself down on him. He could feel her warmth even through the fabric, the friction building a delicious ache.

"Mm?" she hummed, feigned innocence playing across her features as she leaned in for a playful, fleeting pull of his bottom lip. "Do you want me to stop?"

Justin groaned, his hands gripping at the sheets. "Fuck no," he managed to get out, his voice a desperate rasp. He watched as she pulled her shorts off, discarding the flimsy material to reveal her glistening pussy. He felt the heat radiate off of her, his own need making his vision swim. "Please, baby..."

"Hmm?" She straddled him again, her pussy pressing into his covered erection, her essence leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his boxers. "Tell me what you want, J."

Justin's eyes darkened with lust. "I want you to sit on it," he ground out, his voice tight with need. "Take my cock, baby. Wanna make you feel so good."

"Sweet boy, is that what you want?" She whispered. She slid her hand down his stomach, her fingers tracing the outline of his shaft through his boxers. He watched, breath held, as she hooked her thumb into the waistband and pulled it down, freeing him. His cock sprang up, eager and demanding, and she licked her lips as she took it in her hand.

V = Volume

The advantage of refraining from any public escapades was that they never had to worry about volume. In the quiet of their master suite, Her moans could fill the room without a care. With the door locked and the world outside oblivious to their passion, they could be as loud as they liked.

Justin is undoubtedly a grunter and a moaner. He's not shy about it, and she loves it. His noises are like a symphony to her ears, each one telling her exactly how good she's making him feel. It turns her on, makes her want to push him even further, to elicit more of those deep, guttural sounds.

The grunts are more common when he's driving into her deep, folding her in half with the power of his thrusts. The grunts start off low and slow, building up like the crescendo of a rock anthem before peaking and subsiding into a series of staccato moans as he hits his rhythm.

His moans were more common when she was on top. The visual of her full breasts bouncing with each roll of her hips, her eyes glazed over with pleasure, was too much for him to handle quietly. When she leaned back, taking him in deep, her ass bouncing in his hands, he'd let out a low groan that resonated in his chest. It was a sound that seemed to echo through the room, a declaration of his need and a plea for her to keep going.

Regardless of position, he was a talker. Justin had a knack for whispering sweet nothings and dirty somethings that never failed to make her wetter. He'd praise her, tell her how good she felt, how tight she was, how much he loved her. It was a verbal foreplay that could make her come on its own. But when they were at the height of passion, the words turned into incoherent sounds of pleasure.

She was primarily a moaner, her voice rising and falling in a symphony of pleasure that was music to Justin's ears. Her sounds grew more intense as he took her closer to the edge, her breath hitching as she whispered his name in a plea for more.

When she came, it was always with a whined curse that melted into a breathless moan. Her walls tightening around him as she threw her head back, her nails leaving half-moon imprints on his shoulders. Justin's eyes rolled back, his own release a heartbeat away as he watched her fall apart.

W = Wild Card

It was one of those nights where the tension between them was palpable, the kind that made the air thick and charged. They had both had a long week, and the stress of their separate worlds weighed heavy on their shoulders. She had just come home from a particularly grueling day at work, her mind racing with numbers and algorithms that seemed to follow her into the bedroom.

Justin looked up from his iPad, the concern in his eyes unmistakable. He knew that look on her face—the one that meant she needed a good, hard fuck to clear her head. He set the device aside and stood up, his cock already twitching at the thought. "You okay?"

She looked over at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with need. "Just stress," she murmured, her voice tight. She was seated at the desk in the corner of their bedroom, glasses perched adorably on her nose, bright laptop screen casting a soft glow across her cheeks.

Justin could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the way she sat hunched over her work. He knew she'd been working overtime, trying to meet an impossible deadline while he was away at training camp. "Take a break, baby," he said softly, walking over to her.

"Can't," she murmured, not looking up. "Need to finish this."

But Justin had other plans. He stepped behind her, his hands sliding over her shoulders to massage the tense muscles. She leaned into his touch with a sigh, her eyes slipping closed as his thumbs dug into her neck.

"Let me help you, hmm?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive. His hands slid down her chest, cupping her breasts over her shirt, and her eyes shot open in surprise. She looked up at him through her glasses, a small smile playing on her lips. "Come to bed, babe."

With a nod, she saved her work and allowed him to lead her to the king-sized monstrosity that was their bed. He gently helped her onto it, his hands moving to her waist to pull her to sit on his thighs. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting the mint of her toothpaste and the sweetness of her tongue.

His hands roamed up her torso, caressing her breasts before moving to her back to unbutton her shirt. She felt the fabric slide off her shoulders, the cool air of the air-conditioned room kissing her skin. She shivered as Justin's hands found her bra clasp and released her breasts. He cupped them, his thumbs teasing her nipples into tight peaks before his mouth followed.

She moaned softly as she ground her hips down onto him, feeling him throb with desire. He was always so hard for her, and she loved the power that came with knowing she could do this to him—make him ache and beg.

Justin's hands slid up her thighs, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, making her squirm. His touch was featherlight, but it sent shockwaves through her body. He knew her so well, knew exactly how to make her crazy with want.

"Fuck, I'm so wet," she chuckled, her hips moving of their own accord. "How do you do this to me?"

Justin's smile grew wider, his hand moving to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "It was in my vows," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. "To love, honor, and drive you crazy."

With a giggle, she leaned back, allowing him to pull her shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. She straddled him, her naked body pressing into his, and the heat of his skin was like a brand against her own. His cock was thick and hard, nestled between her thighs, and she could feel the slickness of her desire coating it.

Justin's hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her as if it was the first time. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His tongue danced over her skin, tasting her, marking her as his. Her breath hitched as his teeth grazed her earlobe, her eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"Gonna clear that stress right out of you," Justin murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached between them, his hand wrapping around his shaft to guide it to her entrance. Her breath hitched as he pushed into her, his length filling her completely, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Their eyes locked as they moved together, the rhythm slow and deliberate. Every inch of him was a sweet torture, a delicious reminder of why they loved each other so fiercely. Her hips began to roll in a steady, mesmerizing pattern, her nails digging into his shoulders. She could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, a slow build that seemed to coil in her belly.

Justin's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, setting a pace that was driving him wild. His eyes were dark with lust, his teeth clenched as he watched her ride him, her breasts bobbing with each movement. "Talk to me, baby," he urged, his voice a gruff whisper. "Tell me how it feels."

She leaned back, her palms pressing into his thighs as she took him in deeper. "It feels...like - fuck," she managed, her voice breathy as she lost her train of thought. "I can't think straight, J."

Justin's smile grew wolfish. "Good," he murmured, his hips meeting hers in a punishing rhythm. "That's exactly what I want." He reached up, wrapping his hand around her throat, the gesture gentle but firm. Her eyes fluttered closed, moaning as her hips stuttered against his.

Their bodies moved in a silent conversation, speaking of love and need and a desire so deep it was almost painful. Justin felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in his stomach, his balls drawing up with the promise of release. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her pussy fluttering in anticipation.

"Gonna paint your pretty walls, baby," Justin growled, his grip on her throat tightening as he watched her pussy swallow him whole. The thought of coming inside her was almost too much to bear. He'd been fantasizing about this all week, about filling her up and watching her come apart on his cock.

Her eyes snapped open, her pupils blown wide. "Please," she begged, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I need it. Need your cum, please."

Justin groaned, his grip tightening before he let go of her throat, his thumb tracing a gentle line down her neck. "Fuck, babe," he breathed, his own need spiraling out of control. He watched as she leaned back, her fingers finding her clit, her movements frantic as she worked herself closer to the edge.

Her back arched, her eyes screwed shut, and Justin knew she was close. He reached up, his hand joining hers, his thumb pressing into her clit. The sound of their joined moans was the sweetest music, and he could feel her body tightening around him, her orgasm approaching.

He slammed into her one last time, his own release crashing over him like a wave. Cum spurted from his cock, filling her up, just as he had promised. Her walls clamped down on him, milking him for every drop as she came with a keening cry.

Justin's grip on her hips loosened as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily. She slumped forward, her forehead resting against his chest as she tried to catch her breath. "Goddamn," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

She giggled, the sound muffled by his skin. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to... I just needed..."

"Shh," Justin soothed, his hands stroking her back. "You never have to apologize for that, baby." He kissed her forehead, his heart still racing. "I know you needed some stress relief. I'm just happy to be the one to give it to you."

She leaned into his embrace, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her. She loved how he always knew exactly what she needed, even when she couldn't put it into words. His gentle touch was soothing, grounding her in the present moment.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes still closed. The room was quiet except for their heavy breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. The cool air brushed against her sweat-slicked skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

X = X-ray

He's 6'6" and it's really pretty.

Y = Yearning

Between the two of them, her sex drive was the more insatiable of the two. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of erotic thoughts and desires, a constant throb of yearning that only Justin seemed to truly understand. She craved the intimacy of his touch, the way he could make her feel seen and desired. Her body responded to him on a primal level, a hunger that was never fully sated.

That's not to say that Justin didn't have his own moments of intense need. But it was different for him. His job was physical, demanding, and often left him drained. Yet when he saw her, his body responded with an eagerness that surprised him every time. It was like his body had a reserve just for her, a spring of desire that filled him up again the moment she was near.

Z = Zzz

It depends on the intensity of their session. Sometimes, they'd collapse into a heap of tangled limbs, panting and sweaty, and sleep would claim them almost instantly. Other times, particularly after one of their more explosive encounters, they'd lie in the aftermath, their bodies humming with satisfaction as they talked into the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, however, it was a quickie. The kind that left them both breathless and smiling, but with enough energy to spare for a little pillow talk. Justin's arms were wrapped around her waist, his chest rising and falling in time with her own. His cock was still hard, but he knew better than to push for another round—not yet.

"I missed this," she murmured, her voice sleepy as she snuggled closer to him. "Miss seeing you happy."

Justin's heart squeezed at her words. He knew she'd been worried about him, especially with the season amping up. The pressure was immense, and it was a relief to find solace in her arms. "Missed you too," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm always happy with you."

"I know, but I miss seeing that smile," she said, her voice still a little breathless. She leaned back to look at him, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. "You worry me sometimes." She admitted, her hand tracing his jawline.

Justin's smile grew soft, and he leaned into her touch. "I'm okay, sweetheart. Promise. I've got you to come home to," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth to her chest. "That's all the happiness I need."

[redocity]

>> Person A starts calling person B during their lunch break everyday. Person A's coworkers, who they USED to hang out with during lunch, are all super interested in this new supposed paramour. They start gossiping, theorizing, as well as hustling person A trying to get information about person B like its high school.

For your holiday event?

𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 — 𝐄.𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘

Person A starts calling person B during their lunch break everyday. Person A's coworkers, who they USED to hang out with during lunch, are all super interested in this new supposed paramour. They start gossiping, theorizing, as well as hustling person A trying to get information about person B like its high school.

evan buckley x fem!reader | fluff | 1.2k | masterlist.

𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 !!

You’ve gotten used to your phone ringing right around noon. It’s become something you look forward to, the sight of “Evan Buckley” flashing on your screen making your heart flutter in a way you’d never admit to him—not yet, at least.

The first time he called, it was unexpected. You had barely unwrapped your sandwich when your phone buzzed, and his voice greeted you, cheerful and warm. “Hey! Just thought I’d check in and see how your day’s going.”

Since then, it’s become routine.

Buck calls you during his lunch break without fail, whether he’s at the firehouse, in the field, or even in the middle of a chaotic day. For half an hour, you talk about anything and everything: the weird things your coworkers do, the absurdities of his job, and those little moments that don’t seem like much until you share them with someone who listens the way Buck does.

What you don’t know is that your calls have not gone unnoticed.

—

At the 118, lunchtime used to mean loud banter and ridiculous debates. Buck was always in the middle of it, whether he was challenging Chimney to a chili-eating contest or trying to convince Eddie to finally pick a side in their pineapple-on-pizza debate.

Now?

Buck’s spot at the table is often empty, his voice heard only as he heads to a quieter corner of the station, phone pressed to his ear.

And it’s driving his coworkers insane.

“Who do you think he’s talking to?” Chimney asks, leaning back in his chair and squinting toward the kitchen, where Buck has just disappeared, phone in hand.

“Obviously someone special,” Hen says with a knowing smile.

“Special how?” Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on,” Hen says. “He’s sneaking off every day, giggling like a teenager. It’s gotta be a new relationship.”

Chimney’s eyes light up. “Wait—are we talking girlfriend material? Or is this like… a *situationship*? Because you know Buck.”

“Maybe it’s neither,” Eddie says, though even he doesn’t sound convinced.

The gossip escalates quickly. Chimney starts jotting down theories on the whiteboard in the common area, turning it into a full-on investigation.

Hen provides commentary, while Eddie does his best to pretend he isn’t interested—even though he’s quietly keeping track of Buck’s absences during lunch.

“Do you think it’s someone from his gym?” Chimney speculates one day.

“Could be,” Hen replies. “Or maybe it’s someone he met on one of those dating apps. You know how Buck is.”

“What if it’s a long-distance thing?” Eddie chimes in, finally caving in showing his interest.

“That would explain why he’s always on the phone,” Chimney agrees, scribbling it down.

They even try to corner Buck for answers, which only makes him laugh.

“Come on, guys,” he says one afternoon, grinning as he leans against the kitchen counter. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Hen echoes. “Buck, you’ve practically abandoned us for this mystery caller. I think we deserve to know who’s stealing you away.”

“Yeah,” Chimney adds, crossing his arms. “Give us a name. Or at least a hint.”

Buck just shakes his head, clearly enjoying the attention. “You’ll find out eventually,” he says. “We’re just— taking it slow for now,”

—

The truth is, you have no idea any of this is happening.

To you, Buck is just Buck: funny, kind, and entirely too charming for his own good. You don’t think twice about his daily calls or the way he seems genuinely interested in every little detail you share with him.

You certainly don’t realise that his coworkers have turned your lunch break chats into a full-blown conspiracy.

One day, as you’re finishing up a story about the vending machine at work eating your dollar, Buck laughs—a soft, happy sound that makes your stomach do a little flip.

“You know,” he says, “I think my friends are starting to get jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” you ask, confused.

“Yeah,” he says. “They’re all trying to figure out who I’m talking to during lunch every day. It’s kind of hilarious.”

You pause, sandwich halfway to your mouth. “Wait. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Buck replies, his grin evident even through the phone. “Chimney’s got this whole theory board going. Hen’s playing detective. And Eddie—well, he’s pretending he doesn’t care, but I know he’s keeping track.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. “You’re telling me the 118 is trying to solve me like I’m some kind of mystery?”

“Pretty much,” Buck says, and there’s that warmth in his voice again, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. “It’s actually kind of sweet. In a very weird, invasive way—”

“What do they think? That I’m your secret spy contact? Your long-lost twin?”

“Oh, the theories are wild,” he says, leaning against the wall of the firehouse kitchen. “Long-distance girlfriend, someone I met in a bar, a *matchmaker* trying to help me find someone else—Hen’s personal favorite, by the way.”

“Wow,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I didn’t realise our calls’d become the talk of the firehouse.”

“Don’t worry,” Buck says, his tone softening. “I haven’t told them anything. I like having this… whatever this is, just for us.”

The admission makes your breath catch. It’s the first time he’s really acknowledged the unspoken connection between you, the one that’s grown stronger with every call, every shared laugh, every small moment that feels far bigger than it should.

“I like it too,” you admit, your voice quieter now.

There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that speaks louder than words ever could.

“So,” you say eventually, trying to lighten the mood, “what happens if they figure it out?”

“Oh, they will,” Buck says, laughing again. “But until then, I’m having way too much fun letting them wonder. And honestly? I think they’ll love you.”

The words hang in the air, full of meaning you’re not quite ready to unpack.

“Bold assumption, Buckley,” you tease, though your voice is soft, your heart racing. “What makes you think they’ll even meet me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” he says confidently, and there’s that grin again, the one you can hear even without seeing it. “One day, I’m going to bring you by the station. You know, when we’re ready.”

“When we’re ready,” you echo, the words settling somewhere deep in your chest.

“Yeah,” Buck says, his voice steady. “And they’ll love you.”

And somehow, you know he means it.

[deer-diary-from-hell]

it’s a Christmas miracle!! (+looey)

YALL COULDVE JUST SAID A DEER WAS IN DANDYS WORLD AND I WOULD RUN BACK TO THE FANDOM

anyways flutters and finn say hi to your new brother…

His nose glows in black outs

Weirdly happy and hyped about Christmas for some reason

Stealth is prob ass due to him having ornaments decorated on him

rudie is like Santa to the toons

he DEFINITELY has a nice and naughty list

only appears in December to January with his buddies

claims that Santa exists but doesn’t know what he looks like

Kind of a show off ngl…

WHY DO YALL HATE HIM HES JUST A LIL GUY…

You guys just hate silly mfs look at him :(

He has a lot of protection in his clothes to keep him from popping

his ‘skin’ or balloon material is different from normal ones like how they’re a bit more tougher to pop (still fragile to anything sharp)

Do you think he squeaks everytime he takes a step..? Like a very small and silent squeek that’s barely audible if it’s in a VERY quiet room

The ‘main’ entertainment of the gardenview!! Along side with RND!!

someone HAS to check on on him pretty frequently just in case shrimpo tries to kill him😭 (usually poppy)

genuinely thinks kids were laughing along WITH HIM (does he know?)

👆refuses to think otherwise

[merakiui]

all i want for christmas iissssss... some jelaous jamil thoughts, please Mera? in these holidays there's so many parties, people always get bolder... so many reasons to get jelaous ;3 jamil has swallowed his own poison for a long time, so he doesn't say or let on how he feels when ADeuce, Floyd or Malleus get too close to you at the school party. but seeing you so close to Azul and **Kalim**... For such a long time? No, no. You're going to accompany Scarabia for a moment, he forgot something in the kitchen. When you realise that the dessert is you... hehe, it'll be fun.

- pomefiore 💷 anon

👁️ 👁️ jealous Jamil……… do we think he’d hypnotize you before the parties to make you believe he’s your boyfriend, so whenever any guy tries to get closer to you you’ll turn them down because you have a boyfriend. >:) or maybe that’s the culmination of his jealousy!! Jamil watching you and Kalim get stupidly drunk and you’re snuggling up to each other,,, watching you from afar with a grim frown as he sees you sidle up to Azul or one of those sleazy twins,,, just barely containing his anger and envy because he can’t let these things show.

Maybe smoothly guiding you away from the party, leading you to a desolate hall in Scarabia. You’re so drunk you don’t even think twice when he has you look into his eyes. Giving your “boyfriend” a sloppy blowjob while he pats your head and he makes you call him master and boyfriend. <3 possessive sex fueled by his jealousy up against the wall as Jamil slams into you from behind, his fingers digging into your hips, and you have no choice but to scrabble for a handhold against the wall. :)