#but at the end of the day you Have to step back.

[homunculus-argument]

Imagine going on a walk on a really foggy day, enjoying the vaguely eerie, faint and distant aesthetic of it all, and the soft quiet of having no other people around. You're about to cross a familiar bridge when you suddenly feel lightheaded. It's nothing to worry about, just a weirdly wobbly feeling that means you should sit down. And probably get more iron in your diet. Either way, you need to get up and you need to cross this bridge to get home. But now being alone has put this weird fear in you - irrational or not - that if you walk over the bridge, you might get dizzy again and fall from it.

Weird and lonely problems require weird and lonely solutions. Since you're all alone here anyhow, you can act strange if you need to. So you get down on all fours - not on your hands and knees, but on the balls of your feet, like a dog. And like this, you start to slowly creep over the bridge. Nice and slow, happy about your solution that made it feel safe to cross and get home. You can be weird if you want to, nobody's judging here.

You're creeping at a comfortable speed, very slowly, but the bridge isn't that long. You can kind of make out the outlines of things on the other side through the mist. The end of the bridge, a familiar tree, a streetlamp, the silhouette of a bush and-

A person. A human figure. You freeze mid-step to stare. That is the most definitely the outline of a person, standing perfectly still. Staring right at you. You don't know how long this moment lingers, but eventually you can't hold your balance anymore and you have to step forward, placing your open palm back on the cold damp bridge. The figure turns, and takes off running. Bolting off in a very normal, startled way that anyone would when they're spooked.

It occurs to you that you only saw the vague outline of an unexpected person, an obscure figure standing in the fog. They, however, saw the vague outline of you, something perhaps vaguely human-shaped, but moving in a way that people simply do not, slowly, very slowly, creeping over a bridge.

Assuming that nobody would see you, you accidentally became someone's unexplained Silent Hill experience.

[madamechrissy]

✨️Feels like Stardust, Floating all around Us✨️

✨️The five times Suguru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked ✨️

✨️Pairings - Suguru Geto x F!reader

✨️Summary - It’s New Years Eve, and Suguru is at a huge party in the city, with Satoru, Nanami and Shoko, but his mind goes to the girl who moved to France right after your Freshman year of College ended. The girl he never got the courage to tell his feelings to, despite knowing her most of his life. You. When you return from abroad, looking even more beautiful than he remembered, he wonders if he can finally tell you how he really feels, and get your kiss at Midnight. (Or every night) Watch as Suguru tries to confess his feelings from Elementary, Middle, High school and College, while not knowing you felt the same.

✨️CW - MDNI- explicit, 18+ only! Very emotional, light angst, cute fluff, and smutty!! Mutual pining, same format of Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream (Satoru’s 5+1 !!) If you enjoyed that storytelling format, you’ll enjoy this one! (Same world as this too) friends/idiots to lovers. Will be NSFW at the end, there is oral (f recieving), dirty talk, mating press, rough sex, creampie, the rest of the story also has suggestive, fingering, teasing, edging. -Word count- 16.2k- oneshot long af lol, just trust meee <3

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoy!! -(divider by @strangergraphics - banner made by me)

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re so nervous to see your old friends again, especially one friend in particular, Suguru Geto. As the cool air makes you shiver a bit in your dress, you wrap your light suede jacket around you just a little tighter, stepping up to what you remember as Satoru Gojo’s house, opulent and extravagant, the perfect place for a party really.

You take a little breath, looking up at the clear night sky, knowing soon it would be smokey with fireworks, and you can’t help but remember all the times you’ve been here. Particular parties, or study sessions, with all of your best friends, who had clearly stayed close, you wonder will you still fit in? You also wonder, will you look good to a particular dark haired man.

Shaking it off, you psych yourself up, you’ve done your hair, your makeup, you’ve got this gold glitter all over your skin, and a gorgeous little gold dress. You wracked over ideas over and over, wanting it to be so perfect, wanting to make sure that you could maybe get noticed by him in a different way, in the way you’ve always wanted, but have never really said.

You finally, after minutes of standing and contemplating it, knock on the door, you can feel the music reverberating, and it blares when Satoru Gojo opens the door. When you see Satoru’s smiling face and pretty blue eyes you can’t help but smile. He says your name and yanks you in practically, pulling you in for a big hug, you giggle and hug him back.

“Satoru!” He pops a kiss on your head now.

“Oh my god, you’re back for good!?” You nod then, smiling.

“Croissants and wine are great, but I missed home for sure. Satoru, you're squeezing me to death!”

“Sorry, sweets. Just missed your face.”

“You’re hogging her.” Shoko says, you grin so big again, as she pulls you in for a tight hug, you both kiss each other’s cheeks. “You came home, huh?”

“Finally! Oh, Nanami!” He smiles a tired little smile, holding a strong arm out, you hug him tightly, his hand on your head gently.

“You came back to this shithole?” You snort, pulling back and shaking your head at him, leaning up to ruffle his sandy blond locks, much to his displeasure.

“Came back to torture you, Kento.” He rolls his hazel eyes, then you pause when you see him across the room, he stops right in his tracks, his lips parted just so, a pack of cigarettes in one hand as if he was about to step out. But he doesn’t move, not an inch, and neither do you then.

“He didn’t know you were coming.” Satoru whispers, you look up at him curiously, and Nanami chuckles a bit.

“We wanted to see the full effect.” He murmurs.

“Look, his jaw is on the floor. Shit, take her coat!” Shoko says, Satoru snatches it off casually, as Suguru approaches, and sees you in your dress now, your heart is racing in your chest when he stands right in front of you.

Suguru’s heart isn’t racing, it’s pounding out of his chest, when he sees you, so beautiful in this golden dress, it hugs your every curve, hitting mid thigh, revealing much of your supple skin that seems to glitter under the fairy lights hung all over. He blinks once, twice, three times, and opens his mouth, but he can’t even form a coherent thought.

You’re looking up at him with those eyes, the glittering ones that he’s looked at for so many years, but he has longed for them since you’ve been gone, he’s pictured them when he closes his eyes. Pictures of you are not the same, they are all gorgeous, you are gorgeous, but there’s something missing in them, something he can only truly feel in person.

He feels your very energy humming, and he’s so terrified, he’s going to close up again, isn’t he? He’s going to let you down again, hold back and shut down, when you last left he was in such a dark, dark place, and he would not let you in. He had no idea you would be here, though he knew you were coming home soon, he’d tried to prepare a whole speech, torn paper after paper.

Filled notebooks about you, highlighting sections, writing poems about your eyes, your lips, everything he would do to you if he got a chance. How he’d kiss every inch of your smooth skin, how he’d see you writhing in pleasure under him, but also how he’d get down on one knee for you, how he’d devote anything if he could just get a chance, a chance to tell you the truth.

The truth?

Suguru Geto has been in love with you since the first day you met, all the way back in elementary school.

“Gonna just stare and drool?” Satoru teases, bringing him back, he clears his throat, a dark pink rushing across his high cheekbones.

Suguru Geto was not inexperienced, he certainly was not a Satoru level player back in the day, but them both being in a fraternity and in sports came with certain things, parties and hookups. He mostly avoided it though, but he’s never been tongue tied with a girl, in fact being with girls was effortless for him, they all just came to him, but you?

You’re so different.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen you in so long…” You fidget a bit, nervous now, looking down. He’s fucking it up already.

“No, I’m sorry, I missed you all very much.” You say with a little smile, hands entwined in front of you, pressing your breasts together in a dress already too revealing, addling his mind. “You look good, Sugu.”

Sugu, the little nickname you had for him, hearing it from your lips after so long melts him, and you’re telling him that he looks good, he should be telling you how beautiful you are. He should have always told you it, but he could never find the right damn words, and after years of not seeing you, he hasn’t moved on, not even close, there is only one you.

“You… you look good.” He manages, voice breaking, he watches your face fall just a bit, cursing himself, as Satoru gestures behind you, a finger gun to his head, and Shoko slits her throat with her finger. Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Um, I mean great, really great. Like… you look…”

“It’s fine, I appreciate it.” You smile, walking up to him then, holding your arms out for a hug, when he pulls you against him, and inhales that scent, the sweet vanilla of your perfume, and the strawberries in your hair, it all hits.

It’s your scent.

He inhales, pulling you tightly against him, the longing making him ache, as you inhale his scent, that fresh yet masculine one, feeling his hard body against yours, he’s gotten even more buff, you feel all the muscles as he holds you tight. You feel how broad his shoulders are when your hands gently brush against his biceps over his soft black sweater.

You look up into his eyes, those dark violet ones that are lidded and lazy, making you wonder what they look like when he feels good. You shake the thoughts away, praying your dress covers the now perked up nipples from the contact, your heat pooling in your lower tummy just from a hug. How has he gotten more gorgeous, you can’t understand.

His mid length dark hair is even longer now, straight and silky to his shoulders and even beyond them, he has half of it up in a bun and damned if Suguru Geto is the only man that can make it look so attractive. A little wisp falls in front of his forehead just so, you ache to brush it back, to lean up and kiss those full lips, glossy when he runs a tongue along them.

It’s not just as bad as it was before for you…

It’s not just as bad as it was before for him…

It’s worse.

“Ahem, weren’t you going to smoke?” Shoko cuts in the awkward silence of you two, you step aside then.

“Sorry, don't let me keep you! We can catch up later.” You say, and he opens his mouth again, then Satoru interrupts.

“Go check out the stars together on the balcony and have a smoke, Suguru, yeah?” Suguru nods then, eagerly, taking your jacket from Satoru and gently putting it over your shoulders.

“Yeah, if it won’t bother you?” He asks, you shake your head with a smile, although you don’t smoke, it is very common in France, and you’re pretty used to it now, along with Sugu and Shoko having smoked since high school.

“Not at all. If you don’t mind the company.” You say, brushing your hair back behind your ear, you’re so fucking cute, Suguru wants to tell you…

No, he’s going to tell you.

Tonight.

What if you leave again, what if someone sweeps you off your feet? What if he’ll live forever and not have said it? He has to throw it out there, and if you do not feel the same, he worries he’ll hit that dark place again, but he’s going to try. He places his hand on the small of your back, then Satoru hands you both a glass of champagne, winking at you.

You walk out with him, god his big hand feels good there, it feels so natural. For years upon years you had a thing for him, but it seems you all had really just stayed friends, he’s kept in touch even though you’ve been abroad, but it seemed merely friendly. He watched your Insta and liked a couple pictures, made a couple comments, you two hadn’t even had a phone call.

You realize just how much you missed that dark, husky voice when you both step out back to Satoru’s balcony, it’s high up on a hill, giving the perfect view of the sky and of the city lights below. You lean against the glass railing, watching the sky glittering, stars twinkling, the moon a crescent shimmering and reflected on the water overlooking the pretty lake below.

“This is so nice, I missed the beauty here.” Suguru looks at you, at the breeze gently blowing your hair back, revealing your beautiful face in the night.

“I missed the beauty too.” He says, you look at him then, incredulously, and his heart hammers, like he’s a dumb teenager and not twenty two now.

“What do you mean, did you leave here for a bit?” You ask, and he exhales then, stepping closer to you, two fingers tilting your chin up, and you feel your body react, your pulse fluttering.

“I mean your beauty. You don’t just look great, fuck I am dumb sometimes, I suck at expressing…”

“Sugu, it's fine.”

“It’s not. You look breathtaking.” His violet eyes glimmer, dark lashes hovering over them, the words not computing in your muddled mind. “That’s as close to the word that describes you as I can think.”

“Breathtaking? I… that’s too…” You’re glad it’s dark, so he can’t see his effects on you, but surely he catches the rise and fall of your chest with the quickening of your breath, and when his thumb brushes over your lower lip, it trembles just a bit. “You really think so?”

He scoffs a bit, sighing. “I’ve always thought so, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I’m sure I’ve… said it.”

“N-no. Um, you have said pretty but I thought you meant it as a friend?” Suguru sighs again, looking back into your eyes, hand still on your chin.

“There are a few memories I’d like to look back on with you, do you think you can listen to them tonight? If I promise you the best New Years Eve kiss ever?” You giggle then, looking down shyly, hands roaming gently up his hard abdomen, fingers clutching the soft fabric just so.

“I get a kiss from Suguru Geto? Wasn’t the last one… gosh, prom?” He nods then, smirking just a bit.

“That will be one of the stories.”

“And do I get a kiss for each one?” You tease, raising a brow.

“Do you want five kisses?”

“Five! Sounds like it’d be more than kisses, hmm?” Suguru’s hair falls over his shoulder gently, his free hand pressing against the nip of your waist, and something clicks then, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

He knows this is where he is supposed to be, gazing down at your beautiful face, your lips parted just so, eyes dilating when his thumb presses against your ribcage under the swell of your breast. He watches your breath hitch, as his own does, when he feels your body, the curve of your waist, over the sequined dress he’d die to take off of you.

“I could kiss you everywhere.” You let this sound escape, this little cry that you quickly get embarrassed by, but he shakes his head, pulling you closer. “I’ll demonstrate a bit.”

“Y-yeah?” He chuckles against your ear, breath tickling.

“Yeah.” He kisses right behind your ear, a little press of firm lips, that touch alone has you aching, reeling, when his tongue flicks against your skin, your hands clutch him tightly, earning his quiet moan at your reaction.

“Sugu, I've also wanted to tell you something, something I really have been wanting to say for so long.” Suguru kisses your neck again, inhaling your scent, before nodding and pulling back.

“After my stories.” He says with a turn to his lips, you laugh softly.

“Yeah? All right. First one, shoot.” You pick up your glass off the railing, he picks his up as well. “Thought you were gonna have a smoke?”

“Trying to quit soon.” He admits, pulling one out then, leaning on the rail and looking at you, clinking your glasses. “Light for me?”

“Sure.” You take the lighter, hands just a little shaky when you flick it, the flame burns the cherry of his slim white cigarette, he takes an inhale, careful to blow the smoke up and away from you, then he takes a sip of the champagne, as do you.

“First story starts on the day we met, do you remember?” You smile fondly, nodding then.

*****

The First time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 11- Grade Five

Suguru Geto was staring at you, the new girl in the school, how could he not when you were just so cute? He thinks you’re the cutest girl he has seen, actually, and Satoru, his best friend, was snickering behind him as he just stared. “You think she’s cute!”

“No!” Suguru hissed, but Satoru was snorting in laughter, as you all played in the playground, it was winter time that year, and a light dusting of snow was on the ground, coating the grass in white.

“Hey, new girl!” Satoru shouted, you turned then, you were just reading a book rather than playing, Suguru found it so interesting, how your glasses sat just so on the bridge of your nose, which is a little red from the cold.

“Yeah?” You closed the book, standing and walking up to them both, Satoru had begun nudging Suguru in the shoulder, when your eyes met for the first time.

Gosh, he’s so cute, you thought, he literally looked afraid though as he stared at you with wide violet eyes. You worry then, is there something on your face!? The way he stared, you start to feel like something must be wrong with you, especially when he didn’t say anything, and instead his white haired best friend stepped closer to you, grinning.

“What’s your name, new girl?” He asked, you softly tell them, and Suguru repeated your name softly, as he continued to stare.

“Um, is there something on my face?” You asked him then, gloved hand coming to an overheated cheek. Suguru sputtered, and Satoru laughed then.

“Nah, he thinks you’re cute. I think he likes you.” Satoru had declared in a sing-song voice, and you felt it, your heart fluttering at the thought of such a cute boy liking you.

Suguru doesn’t like you though, he thinks he has fallen in love at first sight, maybe that sounds silly, but how else can he explain this?

“You think I’m cute?” You asked shyly, and Suguru shook his head, breaking your little eleven year old heart.

“No, I don’t! I don’t like you.” You gasped then, and Satoru grimaced at his friend's folly, hand on his own face. “I mean, oh my god, I don’t know you… I don’t not like you! I just… don’t think you’re cute. I mean-”

“I… I have to go.” You felt the tears pricking your eyes, embarrassment creeping in, maybe this is a thing, to be mean to the new girl? You turned and ran off.

“You really messed that up. She is cute.” Satoru had said, Suguru glared at him, then frowned when he looked at your retreating figure.

“Satoru, you throw snowballs at the girl you like.”

“It’s better than what you did!” Satoru was stomping his foot. Suguru sighed, running after you, calling your name, you paused, turning then, and he saw your face streaked with tears, it gives him the worst feeling in the world.

“What do you want?” You mumbled, voice breaking. “It’s fine if you don’t like me, but leave me alone.”

“I do! I… I don’t…” Why can’t Suguru say anything?

“Maybe we can be friends anyway?” You asked, sniffling then, and Suguru nodded eagerly, clearing his throat, brushing tears from your cheek then.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re not… not cute. I…”

“Okay. Then… we are friends? I need friends, all mine are back home.” You were, holding out a hand, he took it in his, nodding with a little smile.

“Friends.”

But eleven year old Suguru knew even then that he didn’t just want to be your friend, no he’d like to always hold your hand, and it felt empty when you turned and walked away, a pretty smile brightening your tear streaked cheeks. Satoru whistled and shook his head when Suguru came back.

“You messed up, Suguru.”

“I know.”

*****

You feel emotions pick at you now, remembering that day like it was yesterday somehow, it’s all fresh in your mind even after all these years. You look down nervously, sipping the champagne and sighing, as Suguru puts out a cigarette now, brushing his hair back and looking down at you.

“I remember all of that. It was so embarrassing, Sugu, why are we going there?” Suguru shakes his head, taking your hand in his now, remembering how it felt to hold your hand the first time, even in both of your winter gloves.

“I did think you were cute, the cutest girl I’d seen.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “I did, Satoru put me on the spot, and I froze.”

“He’s good at doing that.” You are stepping closer, looking up at him under your lashes as he towers so tall over you. “I was so nervous, it was my first day, I think you two were the first to talk to me.”

“You had your nose in a book, you always have though.”

“So, why the walk down memory lane?”

Suguru takes a breath, cupping your face, he watches your pupils dilate, feels the heat of your cheeks under his palm, aching for you. “It’s so you know.”

“Know what, you thought the new girl was cute?” He exhales, shaking his head, lips just a centimeter from yours.

“Much more than that. But you needed to know that I liked you.”

“Really!?”

He chuckles. “Yes, really. I hated when you cried, it made me so upset. It always has.”

You gently hold his wrist, thumb pressing against the veins of his inner wrist that pop out of his skin just so, strong arms, strong hands, that make you wonder. “I think I earned one of your kisses.”

“You did, love.”

Love, that little term of endearment breaks you, breaks your resolve, when his plump lips descend, tasting just faintly of smoke, but also sweet like the grape of the champagne against yours.

When Suguru Geto kisses your lips, it takes everything in him now to lift up that dress and taste all of you, when his tongue dives into the sweetness of your mouth gently between the seam of your soft lips. You let out this breathy cry, one that makes him ache for you, fuck he’s getting hard just kissing you, just feeling your tongue glide along his, then you gasp.

“You got your tongue pierced?” You murmur then, when you feel the barbell hit your tongue, he chuckles a bit, thumb brushing along your jawline, making you tremble, you feel it, the wetness sticking against your lacy panties, from a kiss, then when he holds out his tongue?

You’re done.

“Yeah I got it done a couple years back.” You bite your lower lip, mind thinking insane thoughts, picturing just what it could do, and then trying to shove all that back, because you know how much it would mean if you both took that step.

Fuck it would mean too much to you, you don’t know if you can casually hook up with him, to the point you step back a bit. “I can’t.”

He frowns, brows drawing together. “Can’t what?”

“I thought I could maybe… hook up with you. God I want to.” His lips part, narrowed eyes widening now. “But it would be too much for me. I need to… I need to go, I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Please.” He murmurs your name, gripping your hand when you turn away, big hand swallowing your little one, you exhale, looking back up at him. “You think that’s what I want from you, a hook up?”

“No, I said I wanted it. But I don’t think I could be casual, not with you.”

“And you think I could be casual with you?” Your heart is almost thudding so fast you feel dizzy, he pulls you against him again, your eyes go back to his lips. “I wasn’t asking for a ‘hook up’ tonight.”

“If you keep kissing me, that’s what will happen. Your tongue ring is fucking up my brain.” He snorts then, you look down shyly. “I’m not joking.”

“You’re so cute.” You think back on that day again, as does Suguru. “I should have told you then, that you were the cutest girl I’d ever seen.”

“Sugu, we were kids, it’s fine. Don’t worry about things like that.”

“No, I need to tell you another time I didn’t say the right thing.” You shake your head. “Yes, I do. Want another drink for the next story?”

“Just don’t show me that tongue ring please, I don’t think I can handle the horny ass thoughts.” He chuckles again, leaning close, the breeze blowing his sweater just a bit, lining his hard body.

“Think that’s my only piercing?” You bite your lip, mind racing.

“You’re a tease, Suguru Geto.” You whisper softly.

“Not teasing. Another story, should we go inside for the next?” You nod, a little nervous as he guides you through the party, you wave and make small talk with old friends and new faces, when he grabs two more glasses of champagne and takes you by the hand.

“Where are we heading, storyteller? Feel like this is the ghosts of New years past.” He laughs again, fuck when is the last time he laughed this much?

“I have a room here for when I stay, though I don’t often now that Satoru has his girl, they fuck so loud it echoes everywhere.” You snort now, shaking your head.

“It’s wild they ended up together after so long, I didn’t know if they’d ever admit their feelings.” It gets quiet then, between you two, so much left unsaid, because Suguru hasn’t admitted his own feelings, despite helping Satoru finally confess his.

Suguru shuts the door to the room, heading over to the speaker and connecting his phone, putting on one of your favorite songs, sitting on the bed then, leaning casually and patting the spot next to him. You sit down, you’re alone with Suguru Geto, the boy you’ve been head over heels for, since forever.

His heart skips a beat when you sit down, and sip your drink, smiling curiously at him, the longing just growing with every breath you take. “You remember this?”

“Of course I do. It’s going to fit into my next story.”

“Can I pick the next spot you kiss? Shit that’s so forward oh my-”

“Shh.” Suguru has a finger on your lips. “Yes, you can pick anywhere on your pretty little body.” His words fuck what’s left of your mind, one of his hand casually brushing against your bare thigh.

“Pretty little body?” You whisper back.

“Very, very pretty. Are you ready for more of me admitting I absolutely was trash at communicating?” His violet eyes glint just a bit with humor, you sip your drink, scooching just a little closer, nodding then.

“I’m ready. Where to next?”

“Middle School.”

*****

The Second time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 14- Grade Eight

You and Suguru had a school project together, and he had to admit he was so nervous for you to be here, in his house, in his room. You were laying on your tummy on the floor, feet kicked up in the air, little silver anklets on your ankles dangling just so as you swung them back and forth, as you drew all over the giant poster board, shading it in as you go.

“You’re really good at art.” Suguru said softly, you smiled brightly at the compliment, lighting up your pretty face, your braces just adding to it.

“Oh thanks Suguru, you’re always so nice. I’m so glad we’re friends.” You said, sitting up then, on your knees, a hand on his shoulder fondly.

With glasses and braces, some kids picked on you here and there, but Suguru and Satoru never let anyone mess with you, so people backed off rather quickly when the boys getting taller and bigger than everyone stood up for you. Especially Suguru, he was the first to defend from any standpoint.

When your hand touched his shoulder he blushed, and you tilted your head curiously at him. “Are you hot in here, Suguru? Do you have a fan?”

“I… um… yeah. Hot.” He cleared his throat, turning the little fan on in the room, it blew back his hair just so, his growing dark locks blowing back, and your heart faltered just a bit.

He looked like some guy from a book, from a movie you think, riding some horse with his hair blowing like that. When he smiles at you with those tired violet eyes of his, you melt more and more. How were you supposed to only be his friend when he’s that handsome, and you kept imagining your first kiss in your head over and over, wishing that it could be him.

You know you’re probably not his type though, Suguru had girls that flirted with him a lot, and the only couple you’ve seen him with were pretty different from you. You’re a nerdy girl and quiet, so the two of you fall into a comfortable silence often. You imagine maybe he wants someone a little more outgoing, a little more popular, but you’re not sure.

You do know no matter how many times you all hang out, he has never even glanced at you as anything but a friend.

But you’re very wrong.

Every time you look away, Suguru looks at you, and would think just how cute you are doing every little mundane thing you did. His already deep feelings had him writing in his journals about you, and only you, he composed silly poems that absolutely should never see the light of day. You made him feel so silly, he should just share it with you, right?

He’s brought back to you gently putting your hand down, scooching close to him on the soft carpet of his bedroom, leaning back against the bed. “Suguru, can I ask something personal?”

“Of course. Yes, I am a spy, undercover. You knew?” You snort at that, rolling your eyes.

“Knew it. No, um… you’ve… have you ever kissed?”

Suguru’s heart literally stopped at that moment, god he thinks the room is spinning, as those words casually came from your lips, lips that had sparkly gloss on them, that he’s currently staring at now. He gulps, and you nervously wet them, doing far too many things to his teenage brain, that already runs at half capacity when in your presence.

“Have I what!?”

“Oh that’s too personal? I’m sorry… I just haven’t yet, and I feel like everyone else has. Is it the braces? Or… am I too shy? Not… maybe not pretty enough. Suguru, do you think I’ll get prettier when I get these off?” You asked, and he glared at you, long lashes lowering. “Am I asking too much?”

“You’re… you’re so…” Say it, say it, say it.

“So…” You lead him to finish but he takes a breath then, shocking you when he cupped your face gently, your hands came to his wrists, breath catching when he leaned over you.

“You’re pretty with braces, or without, okay?” You felt your own cheeks heat up, when he leaned closer, his silky hair falling to the side.

“Thank you, you’re the best friend.” You whispered, the word friend made him sick almost. “You made me feel better.”

“I’ve kissed before, I can show you. If… if you want.” He said then, and you nodded nervously, it’s a friend showing you a kiss, right?

When Suguru’s lips found yours that day, while your favorite song played on the radio, it was like some electric current ran through you, his lips pressing just so gently on yours, careful and sweet, his hand on your face pressed just a bit more. You gasped out, pulling back, eyes shooting up to his, his lips were just so glossy, covered in a bit of your glitter, making you giggle.

“You’re glittery.” You teased softly, and he licked his lips to taste the gloss.

“Strawberry?” You nodded nervously, your hands went to his shoulders.

“Can I try again? Like what do I do with… the tongue and all that?” Suguru gulped then, you were literally killing him.

“That’s making out. You just um… I don’t know how to explain. I can show you again?”

“Sure.” You both kissed once more, his tongue darted in your mouth, making you gasp at the sensation, you felt so warm, butterflies in your tummy, as you tried to move your tongue back. You felt so awkward in his comparison, the ease in which he moved, he seemed so smooth, so practiced.

But he enjoyed it, he enjoyed it so much, how sweet you were, and how much he wanted to kiss you every moment of every day. You tentatively moved your lips, your tongue, at certain points you sighed and leaned even further against him, Suguru lost himself in you, imagined that this was all real, that you were his girlfriend, that he could tell you the truth.

Soon you both heard a knock on the door, and you both separated quickly, nearly jumping apart.

“Hey mom.” He said, as she smiled at you both.

“Do you all want anything to eat? I’m cooking dinner.”

“Oh I can’t stay, mom will want me back home, but thank you!”

“Of course sweetie. Alright well it is six, so you may want to head home soon if you are all done.” She smiled as she walked out, leaving you to nervously gather your things.

You just kissed Suguru Geto.

Your first kiss!

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How do you tell him your feelings?

“Um, that was really nice. Kissing you.” You whispered, wondering if that was okay, but Suguru was still reeling, kissing you was nothing like kissing the other girls, it was… just, different, it was special.

“Oh, um yeah.” Was all he said then, and you stood there, blinking up at him, as he struggled to form the right words.

Tell her.

He said nothing, however. The silence was loud while you both stood there in that awkward silence, until you felt so mortified, embarrassed beyond belief. He was just showing you as a friend, why would you expect him to feel what you do? He probably felt sorry for you if anything, you immediately turned to leave, he stopped you with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

He cursed himself internally, why couldn’t he reassure you, why couldn’t he tell you that he has never felt this way!? When your eyes were just a bit glassy, and he saw your lips were just a little swollen from his kisses, you look even prettier, so pretty and perfect just how you are, that he was intimidated to say it. He was terrified, were you just wanting a friend to show you?

Was he overthinking it?

Were you overthinking it?

“I’m… you… you’re…”

“Suguru, what is it?” You asked, blinking just a bit and tilting your glasses up, he brushed your hair back, clearing his throat, your lips parted just a bit.

“You’re not bad at it.” Your face falls, the hopes just shattered, and Suguru could sense it, sputtering, what the heck was coming out of his mouth!?

“That’s good I guess?”

He can’t think of what to say, that he wants to kiss you again, that he wants to ask you to be his girl. How could he fuck it all up this bad!?

You felt so emotional you turned away again. “Bye Suguru.”

He’d shut the door behind you, resting his head on it, seeing your sad face in his mind until he closed his eyes that night. He kept looking at his phone, but he couldn’t reach out. He didn’t wanna mess up even more.

*****

You bite your lower lip now, it’s quiet as the song fades in the background, the same song that had played when he kissed you. “Was I so bad at it?”

“God no, I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn’t.” He leans close to you, eyes drinking you in. “You were beautiful then, and now. And you were the best kiss I had, you are the best kiss I’ve had.”

You gasp in surprise, brows together as you look into his eyes, as his hand on your thigh slips up just a bit, the contact making heat pool between your thighs. You look down, at his strong, tanned hand so casually touching you, before looking back up at him, letting his words set in.

“You were my first kiss, and you… are still my best kiss too.”

He blinks. “I am?”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back behind his ear, fingertip running along his gaged earring then. “Oh Sugu, you're so silly. Of course you are, I thought you didn’t like it, or felt bad for me?”

“No, no… no. I should have said it then, something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

He smirks now. “First you get a kiss, anywhere you want, remember?” Your mind goes to the most lewd places, you raise a brow.

“Anywhere?” He laughs softly.

“Anywhere.” His voice is husky, so deep, the timbre just adding to your addled senses, but you can’t just be like- kiss my pussy Sugu thanks- so you look where his hand is touching you now.

“There.” You gesture to your upper thigh, Suguru kneels then, shocking you as you look down at him, between your thighs, leaning low, the sexiest thing you can imagine seeing. You whimper, you fucking whimper when he presses his lips on your inner thigh gently, looking up at you.

“Here? Or… here.” He kisses higher, you grit your teeth to hold in another embarrassing cry, hips arching just a bit off the bed.

“There, actually.” You whisper, tapping your other thigh. “You have to make it even now.”

“Oh, of course.” He kisses your other soft inner thigh, fuck he can see those lacy panties peeking out under your dress, the plump lips of your pussy visible, along with a wet spot forming, making him throb under his jeans. His hands grip your calves, feeling the muscles tense under his hands, kissing up your other thigh.

He watches your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut. “Sugu…”

“Yes, love? Somewhere else?” He stands now, leaning over you, fingertips trailing up your inner thighs and higher, leaving a network of goosebumps in their wake.

“Can I be greedy and get another kiss here?” You tap your lips, he smiles softly, nodding, then he’s kissing you, pressing your back into the mattress, and you swear you’d just have his fucking babies at this point when you feel him, hard under his jeans, pressing against your aching cunt. “Ah!”

“You okay?” He whispers, you nod eagerly, too eager, yanking him down against you, tongues moving, messy and sloppy, his kiss so intense you have to pull away to suck in a breath. “Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. F-fuck.” You manage to whisper back, he leans up on one arm, your hands slip under his sweater, feeling his hot skin, his taut perfect abdomen. “Do I need three more stories? I’ll die.”

He laughs softly, kissing down your neck, your hands grip his back, hips arching, he feels your heat against his cock. “Are you so needy for me, Princess?”

“Princess!? I’m already wet, stop.”

“Oh, I can feel that.” You’re heating up when he reaches down, rubbing you over your panties, then his violet eyes dilate, and he moans. “Oh, you’re that wet? Fuck.”

“Embarrassing.” You mumble, he shakes his head, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, fabric so damp it’s pathetic, his touch feels so good you could almost cum from his little circles.

You’re not like this, what does Suguru do to you?

“One more story and I’ll make your pretty pussy cum.” He says in your ear, your head falls back, when he nips it with his teeth.

“Oh fine, but Sugu we need to cool off or you’re not making it.” He smirks down at you, making your eyes narrow. “You’re getting cocky about this.”

“Getting you this wet, oh yes.” He laps the sticky clear arousal off his thumb, thin nostrils flaring then, he moans, as your mouth opens at the action. “You taste so sweet, oh my god.”

“Sugu…”

“Shit, yeah, come on.” He exhales and you both fix yourself a bit, you both down your drinks and he then leads you down the stairs, holding your hand as he does, earning the grins of your friends, including Satoru’s girlfriend.

Just this Christmas they’d finally gotten together after a lifetime of just being friends, Suguru hopes and wonders if something is in the air, as he tastes your sweetness still on his tongue, mixing with the champagne. “You all were up there a while, but not long enough.” Gojo teases.

“He’s regaling me with stories.” Gojo’s girlfriend giggles then.

“Oh, let me guess, five of them?” She teases, as Gojo yanks her closer.

“It’s the formula.” Suguru pulls you away then, as a song starts.

“Let’s dance?” You agree, smiling as he holds you in his arms, fuck it feels so good, his strong arms wrapping your hips, it’s nothing like the dances you remember with him before, not when he pulls you against him, and his thigh presses between you, torturing you when you roll your hips. He leans close, as your friends watch, kissing you in front of everyone then.

Something you never, ever thought he’d do.

Something he’d been dying to do.

He pulls back, turning you, your back against him as you rock side to side, pressing kisses down the side of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, ass arching against him, his big hand splaying your waist completely as it presses gently over your tummy.

“Having you in my arms? Am I having some dream.” He murmurs, surprising you then.

“You, having a dream about me?”

God, if you only knew what he dreams of, all the positions he’d have you in, the ways he’d make you cum for him. But also little things, like having coffee in the morning on the balcony with you, sweet little intimate moments he can picture so very vividly, like waking up with you in his arms, smiling at him sleepily.

“I have so many times while you’ve been gone. God I missed you.” Suguru turns you back around then, hands finding purchase on your waist, the entire room fades away then, it’s just you two.

Just like that night, the one where Suguru failed again.

“Third story, I’m ready. What’s the next story, Sugu?”

He grins, white teeth glinting. “So eager to cum, hmm?”

“Shush.” Your arms wrap his neck, fingers playing with his long silky locks. “Go on then, what grade are we travelling to?”

“We’re up to sophomore year now.”

*****

The Third time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 16- Grade Ten

 You were at this party after Satoru and Suguru had won the state championship for your school. It was an insane party you’d had to sneak out to go to, your mom thought you were at Shoko’s house, her mom thought she was at your house. You’re both giggling as you sit next to each other now, in a circle with a ton of your friends and a vodka bottle someone had snatched.

It’s spinning currently, Suguru was looking at you then, he was the one who had spun it, he watched you bite your lip, he studied you carefully, in bits and pieces, looking away every time you catch his gaze. Since that night in eighth grade you all had stayed great friends, but now Suguru knew how it was to kiss you, and no other girl had such an effect.

He had so many journals of you it’s embarrassing.

You had so many diaries of him it’s embarrassing.

You kept looking at him, at his jaw line, at him smiling and sipping on a soda as he watched everyone at the party, ever observant and aware, and even more handsome as you all grew up. Suguru and Satoru were two of the most popular boys there were, and they had their dedicated fans. You’d gotten your braces off and gotten contacts, you suppose you’re sort of popular by association of your friends, but nothing like them.

Suguru missed your glasses, he missed how they sat on the bridge of your nose, though he does enjoy seeing more of your pretty eyes now, not that you knew that.

Suguru had a girl by his side who was whispering something in his ear. You hated that you felt it like a punch to the gut, sipping your drink nervously to choke down the sensation. Shoko leans in, giving you a knowing look in her dark brown eyes. “You should just tell him.”

“Tell who what?” She snorted at you, rolling her eyes and wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“You’ve got it bad baby, it’s painfully obvious.” You sighed, looking back at Suguru again, catching his violet gaze across the circle, and you busied yourself looking back at Shoko, whispering in her ear.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Oh yeah. He likes you too, you know?”

“No way. He’s never said so.” Shoko had leaned over and poured a little vodka in your cup, you gasp. “Shoko!”

“For courage.” You sipped it and winced, earning her laughter, when the bottle stopped, and it was just a bit from you… it’s on Shoko. “Yuck.”

“Yuck.” He agreed, and Satoru was laughing maniacally.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

“Oh whatever.” Shoko leaned close, disgust plain on her pretty features. “I’ll puke after this.”

You giggled a bit at her expression, she leaned over, as did Suguru, and you watched their lips press together, but Satoru booed when they pulled back quickly, as did everyone in the circle. “You have to make out, you know the rules.”

They both grimace, and kiss each other again, Suguru’s eyes caught yours as he did, as he pictured kissing you instead, long lashes fluttering and casting shadows along his high cheekbones. You felt sick then, downing more of the strong drink with cheap vodka, as you saw the love of your teenage life kiss your best friend, his hand cupping her face.

Everyone whistled after that, and the worst part is it looked like Suguru enjoyed it, but he only did in any way because of looking at you, picturing your lips on his. Was your lip gloss still strawberry, he wondered? Was it another flavor? And when he caught your gaze, he could see you’re upset, and he wondered why. It can’t be you liked him, it had been years and you’ve never brought it up again.

Friends.

Best friends.

Shoko had wiped her lips in disgust as everyone laughed, and then it was Satoru’s turn, he spun the bottle and winked over at Suguru. “Hope it’s you baby boy.”

“Shut up, Satoru, ugh.” Suguru grumbled, his eyes kept flitting to you, watching Shoko pour more liquor in your cup, when Satoru’s bottle landed directly at you.

Shit.

Satoru leaned in close, lips against Suguru’s ear. “You don’t like her like that anyway, right? So no big deal.”

“Yeah.” He managed to try to spit out that lie, and Satoru knew it, rolling his blue eyes.

“Yeah? Won’t care?” Suguru shook his head, when you scooted to the middle of the circle, on your knees, your little pleated skirt spread just so, killing Suguru then. You had looked at him with something deep in your pretty eyes, before looking back at Satoru.

“Are we doing this?” You asked nervously, Satoru smirked charmingly, nodding and cupping your face, before descending his lips on yours.

Suguru wanted to punch his one best friend for kissing his other best friend, he’s never felt so mad, so sick as when he had to see Satoru kissing you. His fists clenched at his sides, anger coursing through his veins, at himself. His breath caught in his throat, Nanami and Shoko were whispering and looking right at him, your eyes were fluttering shut, like you enjoyed it.

Why wouldn’t you? You weren’t with Suguru, he shouldn’t expect you to just know what he thinks, how he felt, but when Satoru was pulling you against him, putting on a show, Suguru was losing the little control he had. Your hands came to rest on Satoru’s shoulders, wrecking Suguru then, he couldn’t handle it, the longing, the need for you, the desire to rip his friend off you.

You were kissing Satoru Gojo that night, and sure, it felt good, but it felt like a friendly press of lips at first. Then, Satoru surprised you, he was moving his tongue against yours, making you gasp as his big hands pressed your waist, you hadn’t been kissed like that.

Satoru had pulled back and whispered in your ear. “Gotta make it look good, look how mad he is.”

“Mad? No way.” You shook your head, Satoru chuckled, kissing you once more, your eyes found Suguru then, standing and turning, making you gently push Gojo away. “What are you trying to do?” You had asked him, glaring at his antics.

“Get him to admit his feelings.” Satoru winked now. “Oh you’re a good kisser by the way.”

You’re a blushing mess. “Go after him.” Nanami’s voice said softly behind you.

“Should I?” You ask, they nod, and you had taken a breath for courage, hopping up and running after Suguru, finding him alone out front of the little white house full of so many people. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he turned to look at you.

“Suguru, are you okay?” You asked softly, he sighed, shaking his head, looking at your lips, just a little glossy and swollen.

“No.” You stepped closer, shivering a bit, he took his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, rubbing your arms gently under it, warming you with the contact, making the butterflies soar in your tummy.

“Why?” You asked, he had tilted his head, opening his mouth, closing it, then opening it again.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Me kissing Satoru?”

“Yeah.” He said, but did not elaborate.

You blink a bit, looking down. “I didn’t like you kissing Shoko.”

“You didn’t?” You both stepped closer, the alcohol was new to you, it’s hitting a bit, and that plus him leaning so close made you dizzy, made you want to kiss him so badly, and only him. “Why not?”

“Why didn’t you, Sugu?”

He sighed, cupping your face, brushing your silky hair back, his jaw tensing just a bit. “I just… I don't like it. Did you like kissing him?”

“I mean, he’s a good kisser.” The words bring you back then, and you step back, surprising him. “I guess I wasn’t then, was I?”

“What now?” His eyes narrow.

“In your room, do you even remember? It’s probably nothing to you, but it was my only kiss until just now.” His lips parted in surprise, and you feel embarrassment creeping up.

“Only kiss till now? But guys are all after you. Look at you.” His gaze had darted down, making your breath come in little pants.

“You like looking at me?” You asked softly, he scoffed then, looking to the side, seeing cars drift down the road.

How can you not know?

“That’s a dumb question.”

You blink then, before glaring. “Excuse me for asking, I guess I should know you don’t even see me that way.”

“What?” You were handing him his jacket, feeling tears prick your eyes.

“Why do you say things like that!? That you don’t like me with someone, when you’ll never have interest in me. No matter how pretty I try to look around you, it’s not like you care, I’m just your friend.” You turned and stomped away, confusing the shit out of him then.

“You’re drunk or something, you’re not just walking off into the night. And you’re wrong, you know.” He turned you back to face him, throwing the coat back on you, the moonlight glinted off your tears, tears that broke him. “Don’t cry please. You’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re pretty, okay? I notice.” You gasped, and Suguru wondered just how you were so oblivious, or was he that good at hiding it. “I notice a lot about you, all the time.”

“Why have you never even asked me out?” You asked boldly then, and he just stared at you. “Will we only be friends? I need to know, Sugu, because I hold back constantly, in this silly dream.”

“Hold back?”

“Yes. Why do you think you were the only kiss? I hoped you’d want to again, one day. But I think I’m wrong here.” Suguru tilted your chin up, leaning down so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Thought you liked the kiss with Satoru, hmm?” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, shocks were running through you.

“Not like our-”

“Suguru!” The girl that had been all over him most of the party came out giggling then with two more girlfriends, Suguru pulled back, and you felt your heart break into pieces, when you took the coat off and handed it to him, rage seething through you along with embarrassment.

“Hey, it's your friend!” They waved at you, and you smiled politely, Suguru just watched you, not saying anything, coat in his hand.

“Come on back in, they’re doing seven minutes in heaven Sugu.” Another girl teased, you stare at each other then, you ached for him to say something, say anything, but he cleared his throat, holding out a hand to you.

“Wanna go back in?” He asked, a fake smile on his face.

“Sure.” You don’t take his hand, but soon he has girls all over him, as you all return to the party, and he’s sent to that closet for seven minutes with one of those girls, Shoko is rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Did you say how you feel?”

“I tried, I tried. But he doesn’t say anything Shoko, he just shuts down.”

“He does that sometimes, but I swear he really likes-” Her vision went to the opening door, people were all whistling and making comments, you turned and saw him, with lipstick all over his cheek and neck, and the girl was giggling. His eyes caught yours, his face falling then.

“Let’s go home, please.”

*****

The memories hit so hard you can’t breathe for a moment, Suguru’s face is serious, you all aren’t dancing any longer. Remembering seeing him out of that closet feels as fresh as ever somehow. Now you’re in his strong arms, and he watches those tears back in your eyes, hating himself for them.

“I didn’t kiss her.” His voice brings you back to the present.

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I never kissed her. She didn’t wanna get made fun of, so she asked if she could plant some kisses on my cheek, she was getting pressured by some friends. So I agreed and let her, but the rest of the time we talked, and I thought about you, fuck I felt horrible after.” You step back then, taking a breath.

“I need air.” You walk back outside, Suguru follows you then, your eyes are shut as it all sinks in.

“I’m sorry, I know that night was terrible, and after…”

“I got a boyfriend like a week after.” You say, when he stands behind you, hands on your bare shoulders, he leans over you, kissing one, making you tremble. “I was so hurt and upset I dated the first guy who asked me.”

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you laugh without humor, resting back against his warm, hard body.

“Yeah, shit.”

“I wanted to kill Satoru, he did it to get a reaction, and he got one, but I still couldn’t open up. I couldn’t tell you that I wanted to kiss you.” You turn then, looking up at him, head falling back just so, seeing his own emotions now, making his violet eyes glisten, adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. “I only ever wanted to kiss you.”

“Suguru…” You’re crying when he captures your lips again in his, taking a breath against him, shaking with emotion. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Every time I tried I closed up. Then I fucked it all up, and… then you dated that guy for like almost a year.”

“I know. I wanted to get the silly idea of us becoming more pushed back in my brain. But… I never stopped…”

“Me either.” You both rest your foreheads together now, emotions coursing through you both. What seemed like a silly high school night had meant so much, and done so much damage. “We weren’t as close after that, I wanted to make it right, but I think I just fucked it up more.”

“No more stories for a minute.” He nods then, brushing your tears away gently, the love for you swelling more and more, he’s so ready to tell you, for you to know everything in his heart and soul.

“Let’s finish the other story on the way to my house.” You heat up then at the thought, eyes darting back at his lips.

“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He moans softly, pressing your back against the railing, hands sliding down your arms gently, a thigh pressing between your own, right where you’re so hot for him. Your head falls back, hips arching just so, he feels you so wet against him.

“If you want to, shit I’d let you move in.” You giggle, shaking your head, but he’s dead serious. “I would, fuck I’d let you do anything you want, just to see you every day, just to hear your voice. After all these years, just pictures, just memories.” His voice is hoarse, as his hands slip across the sides of your breasts. “The real thing is finally here, and I don’t intend to let you go.”

“I missed your voice.” You admit, sniffling now, cupping his face and running your fingers along his jaw. “I missed you so much, god I just wanted to call.”

“I did too, god I kept dialing it and hanging up, I kept… dreaming of you.”

“I did too, Sugu.” He sighs now, as he holds you in his embrace, and it feels so perfect, to be in his arms.

You were always supposed to be here.

“Why all the stories, to make me cry my makeup off hmm?” You tease, trying to ease the tension, he smiles, shaking his head.

“Not a drop out of place, you’re perfect, Princess.”

Princess, you’re gonna die.

You bite your lower lip now, arching your hips just so, his hand trails down your tummy, it trembles under his touch. “Will you come spend the night at my house? So I can kiss you in more places?”

“Oh yeah?” He nods, smiling.

“I already owe you an orgasm for this one, don’t I?” The casual way he says those words wrecks your psyche.

“You do. Leaving me edged, you’re cruel Sugu.” He snorts softly at that, shaking his head.

“I’ll make up for it. Come on.”

“Oh you’re having a VIP party huh?” Satoru wiggles his white brows, smacking Suguru on the back. “You remember how to do it anymore? I have tips.”

“Oh fuck you Satoru.” You giggle a bit, raising a brow.

“It’s been a while?” You ask teasingly.

“Just a bit, is all. I assure you I know how it works.” His timbre is low as he whispers in your ear, making you ache.

“I believe you. It’s been a while for me too.” You whisper, he exhales, picturing everything he’s going to do to you.

“We’ll make up for it.”

“Get out before you fuck right here, god.” Shoko says, and your friends are grinning maniacally, basically shooing you all away.

“They planned all of this, didn’t they?” Suguru says, walking next to you now, you nod with a little smile.

“When aren’t they scheming something? Oh… is this your car, holy shit!” Suguru blushes a little, nodding as he opens the door for you, his sleek black sports car worth more than anything you own likely, but it doesn’t surprise you. Satoru and Suguru had killed it in sports, and both were making a lot of money. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Soon he’s shut your door and started up the car, leaning close to you, studying your face carefully, as if committing it all to memory. He studies you like you’re a beautiful work of art, and he’s a connoisseur, like you’re the most precious thing there is. And that is what made you always feel so special, how he looked at you, how you captured his full attention, even as a friend.

“Where is the spot you want a kiss?” He asks softly, you look around nervously, you all are in a car right in front of Satoru’s place still. “They’re very tinted.”

“Oh. Um.” You pull down your top then, and his throat goes dry when he sees them, your perfect breasts that gently bounce out, your nipples pronounced and begging for attention.

“Jesus Christ.” Is all he manages to say hoarsely, bending low, gripping your breasts in his huge hands, you cry out at it, nipples getting harder in his touch. “You’re perfect.”

“You don’t have to say-”

“You are. You are so perfect.” You feel a whirl of emotions, desire, love, pure fucking bliss when he runs his tongue around one areola, before sucking one into his hot mouth, moaning.

“Suguru!” Your hands entangle in his locks, back arching, one of his hands pulls you against him, the other gripping your breast, as his barbell flicks on it, and you’re getting soaked, so wet your panties are sticking. “Oh my god…”

Your voice is a breathy cry, urging him on more when he sucks on your other perky nipple. “Can’t wait to taste you everywhere.”

“Mnnh.” You yank him back up, kissing him over and over, it’s hungry and desperate, it’s full of a longing you’ve both had for over a decade, it’s needy and messy, so fucking messy. He’s got you on his lap, you’re grinding against him, pulling back for a gasp of air. “Sugu, I can’t make it to your house.”

“Lemme make you cum, Princess. Yeah?” You nod eagerly, he positions his arm so his fingers slip under your barrier, earning his groan, his eyes dilating so much they’re almost black when he feels you. “Oh my god, feel her, she’s so wet for me, isn’t she?”

You just nod weakly, when he’s teasing your entrance with his fingertip, before sinking in, you scream out at it, breasts pressing against his chest as he sinks one fully in, stretching your slick walls. You’re blinded when he finds that spongy little spot, pressing like he’s known your body forever, making you feel better with one finger than anything ever has.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” He whispers, you’re squeezing him like a vise when he slips two in, stretching you out, hearing the squelching wetness in his car now. He watches your face contorted in pleasure, his cock straining against his pants. He has precum leaking against them, so ready to be inside you. “You’re close already, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Please.” Is all you manage, rocking on his hand now, dripping all down him, crying out your pleasure into his lips, as he works you so well, long fingers hitting your spot again and again. “M’close, y-yes.”

“I can feel her, let go Princess. Let go for me.” He’s talking you through it as his thumb finds your clit with the pad of his thumb, and it’s over, you’re shattering for him, cumming so hard you can’t even see then, and he watches you as you fall apart. “That’s it Princess, good girl.”

“Sugu, Sugu- mmm!” You’re shaking as the orgasm wracks through your body, as his fingers slow in your sloppy cunt, so wet it’s fucking stupid, curling them just so to prolong the orgasm even more, until you’re weak. You clutch at his shirt desperately, thighs shaking. “Oh my g-god… what… you’ve been holding out on me this whole t-time!?”

He chuckles, cupping your face now, but not before sucking your arousal off his fingers, kissing you and letting the flavor of you mix with both of your mouths. “Can this hold you for two more stories?” He teases softly, you sigh.

“God I want more though.” You run a hand down his length, he pauses you, shaking his head.

“Not yet, I’ll die.” You’re blushing at the effect you have on him, his thumb runs along your inner wrist, as both of you gather your breaths.

“I don’t do this, I don’t get this way…”

“You still think that I want a hookup? No.” He cups your face, dragging your lips back down to his, as your fears melt. “I’ve waited forever for you, we can wait just a little longer.”

“Forever?” You ask softly, he nods, gulping and then easing you off him, adjusting himself with a wince, you giggle a bit, earning his glare.

“You laugh at my pain, hmm?”

“I’m flattered.”

“You seatbelt up.” He murmurs, leaning across and buckling you in, an arm around the back of your seat as he looks back and reverses, then he turns toward the road, which is surprisingly quiet. You lean against him then, head on his strong shoulder, it feels perfect, despite the nerves.

Would you be good at it? It had been forever.

“So it’s been a while.” Sugu teases, as if reading your thoughts, you grimace and bury your face against him. “It’s fine, you know. It’s been like ten months for me.”

“You? How. Aren’t women all over you?”

“Not the one I want.” You feel the happiness swell at that, looking up at him in the night, the red light you all stop at casting a glow across his handsome face, bathing it in soft red when he looks at you. “I also only really have sex in relationships.”

“Me too, actually. Um… it's been like two years for me.”

“Shit, yeah?” You nod nervously, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, and before that? Freshman year of college. I’ve only been with a couple people, I know that sounds lame.” You’re fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“It’s not, not at all. You’re picky hmm?”

“I wanted some dark haired broody man, one who lived so far away.” Suguru’s jaw tenses, the light goes green but he’s kissing you before he pulls off, exhaling as your words hit him.

“You wanted me?”

“God yes. Want you.” You lean closer, kissing up his neck and unclipping your seatbelt. “Should I show you how much?”

“You are not going to suck me before I eat your pussy. I’m a gentleman, mmkay?” You giggle now, he peeks at you with a tortured expression. “Seriously, I won’t last one stroke if you don’t stop.”

“Oh fine. I was going to see if I have any skills left!”

“I’ll teach you again.” His husky voice melts you all over, you stop the teasing strokes on his hard length, much to his relief, as a couple of more strokes and he’d cum in his pants and embarrass himself. “Alright, let's get this next story going, yeah? We’re at prom now.”

“Oh…”

*****

The Fouth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 18- Grade Twelve- Prom Night

Suguru couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping that night when he saw you, in your beautiful prom dress, this little red number that clung to you in places that wrecked his brain. You typically were a little more covered up, so for Suguru to see the love of his life’s body like this, it was difficult to function, like you had short circuited his brain, well what was left of it.

It’s about to be the end of high school, and you and Suguru had grown a little distant, despite still having a good friendship. Suguru had been dating this girl for a few months, and they had been intimate already, he had always hoped his first time would be you, but you also were dating someone again. Every time he would think for a moment he could admit his feelings, something got in the way.

At this point he had just tried to focus on being a good friend to you, to have you in his life in any capacity, the journals he penned growing dusty as he lived his life, with sports and school. Friends and a girlfriend, who was then in his arms, dancing with Suguru, despite the person that he wanted, you, were standing there all alone suddenly, tiny in the center of the dance floor.

Your date had left you, right in the middle of prom on the dance floor, you were mortified then, when Nanami came to your rescue, pulling you in his arms and looking at you with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh Nanami, you don’t have to dance with me.” You murmured, tears pricking your eyes, you felt Suguru’s glance as he danced with his pretty girlfriend, you hated that you wished you were her.

“Nonsense, tell me.” Nanami spins you a bit then, he’s gotten so handsome already, him Suguru and Satoru all had, they were so tall and towering over everyone at the school, buff with pretty features. It wasn’t fair how attractive they all were.

So why then, did it only hurt that Suguru was with someone? You didn’t know if you ever would get over it, some dumb kiss from eighth grade!? It had been over four years, nothing was ever, ever going to happen, why couldn’t you just give it up, why couldn’t you stop comparing any boy you date to the man that he was?

“He wanted to go too fast. I couldn’t.” Nanami’s jaw tensed then. “Nanami don’t beat him up!”

“I will, and I will get Satoru and Suguru-”

“No, no it’s fine! Swear. I love you though.” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, earning a blush on his features, you pulled back shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, darling. But I really think someone is mad now.” He teased, and you saw it, Suguru’s glare.

“We’ll never be anything.” Your whisper was broken, Nanami frowned at it.

“You don’t know that.”

“Look at who he’s with, and he never… I… Nanami I need a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” He nodded then, and you strode past Suguru as the song ended, heading to sob your worries in the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” Suguru had said to his girlfriend, he ran down the empty halls of the school then, watching you turn the corner, hearing your sobs. He faced you then, watching mascara streak on your face, breaking his heart. “What happened, are you okay?”

“Just go!” You surprised him at your emotional outburst, shoving at him. “You just go be happy, okay?”

“But my friend is-”

“Nanami danced with me, I’m fine.” Your voice got so cold, and it made Suguru break down, stepping closer to you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He whispered, his hands came to rest on your shoulders, which heaved with your breaths.

“Like you want me. When you never will. Stop giving me hope.” Suguru blinked in confusion at you, how could you think he didn’t want you!?

“What now? You think I don’t want you?” He brushed your hair back, your hands came to sit on his jacket, clutching the fabric, your corsage the same color as the red rose in his pocket, a trembling hand, as your breaths entwined.

“You’re with her.” You had whispered.

“And you were with him.” He said softly back, the hurt on your faces and in your voices so clear.

“Just go, before I do something stupid.” You said, sniffling then, but Suguru leaned even closer, lips a breath away.

“I’m not leaving you.” You tiptoed, dragging him down to you, kissing him deeply then, and it had been like everything clicked into place, like the world all around you all melted. When Suguru’s tongue devoured your mouth, like no kiss you had before, and his hands cupped your face. “Fuck.” He whispered softly.

“Mnh.” You were whining out weakly, Suguru’s hands came to your waist, dragging you against his hard frame, you were heating up like you never have, heart thudding in your chest, when he’s slipping them lower, to your hips. Your back arched, breasts brushing against his chest, earning his moan, as he lifts you then, right on the sink.

Your eyes meet, both of your breaths coming in pants, Suguru Geto is between your fucking thighs, in your school bathroom, and your mind is reeling. “I’ve always wanted you, okay? I have always wanted you.”

His words destroy you.

Are you just dreaming?

“You’re with someone. I can’t do this.” You panicked then, Suguru’s face fell, he had been ready to leave that girl then and there just for one more kiss from you, but you hopped down, touching your lips and shaking your head. “I’m terrible, you’re making me terrible!”

“You’re not terrible, I am. Please, I’ll make it right, don’t leave just give me time and I will-”

“No, I’m awful.” You hated yourself then, so willing to kiss a taken boy, just because he’s Suguru. “You can’t just do that… for me to…”

“Stop, please.” He had begged, gripping your wrist then.

“No. Forget it. Forget it ever happened, I’m sorry I did that.” He doesn’t want your apologies, he wants you, you who disappears that night, before he could stop you, leaving him with one realization.

Kissing you was Earth shattering, kissing you was everything he could ever imagine, and he knew then, he would never get over you.

*****

“I broke up with her, you know.” The hurt in Suguru’s voice is clear as you all come to a stop in front of his home, it’s beautiful and sleek, wide open floor to ceiling windows surrounding it, in a quiet street. You admire it when he opens the door for you, pressing your back against the car as he leans down. “I wanted so badly to finally tell you that night.”

“I ran off on you, you can’t blame yourself for that.” You cup his face now, brushing your lips against his softly. “I was terrified that I did it, that I could do that to another girl, even if it was just a kiss. It felt like the worst thing I could do, but the kiss was the best thing I’d ever felt.”

Your words take Suguru’s breath away. “For me too, it eclipsed anything… though I think kissing you now is even better.” He smiles just a bit, enjoying the blush on your cheeks. “Come inside, Princess.”

“Princess, is that what you call the ladies?” You tease, as he unlocks the doors, and you step in, it’s sleek and modern, but it’s warm and inviting too.

“Only you.” He admits, you feel it then, you’re alone in Suguru Geto’s home now, he’s taking off your jacket, hanging it, warming your chilled fingers with his hands ever so gently.

“Well I’m special then.” You tease, but he’s serious, when he nods, and you lean up, taking out the bun of his hair, letting it fall. You exhale. “You’re like a whole romance cover with it down.”

“A romance cover?” His lidded eyes assess you carefully, now taking out the few hair clips you had holding your hair half up. “You’re beautiful.”

“Sugu…” He’s kissing you again, your hands slipping under his sweater, dying to see him, to see all of him, when he pulls away just an inch. “No, no more stories! I need you to kiss a certain area.”

“I bet you do.” He laughs softly, easing back, enjoying your slumped shoulders and head falling back in frustration.

“Biggest tease of a man ever.”

“We’re almost done now though, want a drink? It’s actually almost midnight.” He muses, peeking at his silver rolex then.

“It is, huh? Alright you better get this last one going then.” Suguru leads you to the kitchen now, he pops a bottle of bubbly, it looks stupidly expensive, and tastes so sweet on your tongue, and as he gazes at you, you ache to tell him. “Sugu… I really should say something.”

“You can soon, I promise.” He plants a kiss on your lips, leading you over to his living room, he slides open the curtains, revealing the pretty night, where people are already lighting fireworks. He sits in a leather seat, patting his lap, you sit on one hard thigh, his arm comes around your waist.

“It's so natural.” You say, brushing your fingers along his hand.

“I know, it feels like you were always supposed to be here.” He sips his drink, setting it down, cupping your face delicately, thumb brushing a drop of champagne that spilled on your lip. “I never want you out of them.”

“Then keep me.” You say softly, he moans, kissing you again, big arm wrapping you so tightly. “Mmm, finish, I’m dying here.”

He chuckles a bit, feeling your heat on his lap, his hands slipping under your dress on the side of your thigh, making your body react. “Alright, the last story.”

*****

The Fifth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 19- The Summer before Sophomore year college

You were leaving for France, you were leaving for at least two or more years, and you still didn't see Suguru Geto at the airport. With all your friends and family, you kept looking for him. You all had not talked much this year, not after prom, not after that kiss that had you reeling for days, you hadn’t even gone to school that last week, you’d spent it in your room, a mess.

You decided that night to only be friends, no matter what, you’d come back to school for the graduation and given him a hug and a bright smile, and neither of you brought it up again. The lingering tension eased somewhat, and in college you all were so busy you didn’t get together much, and then you got the news that you’d get to study abroad.

A dream of yours, always. All these years you’ve dreamt of going to Paris, of seeing the Eifell tower, of walking along the rolling hills and cobblestone streets, drinking wines and nibbling on croissants and watching the sunrise. The only thing missing from your dream?

Suguru next to you.

“He’ll come, I’m sure sweetie.” Your mom had said softly, you sighed as they sound that you have ten minutes to board over the intercom. “We’ll see you soon, promise to take care?”

“Promise, love you mom, dad.” They left, as did Nanami, then Shoko, Satoru stayed for a moment, madly texting Suguru over and over.

“He’ll come, I swear.” Satoru tried to assure you. You put a hand on his shoulder, shaking your head when the five minutes are announced. “I swear if he doesn’t-”

“Satoru, it's okay. You’re a good friend.” You hugged him tightly, he exhaled, wrapping arms around you, then he chuckled. “What is it?”

“He’s here. God with one minute to spare.” You turned and saw him then, his face so serious, wrapped up in a black coat as he ran up to you. “Alright, bye sweets.”

“Bye Satoru.” You kissed his cheek and he shoved at Suguru, whispering something in his ear, before running off and waving, leaving you two alone, as there are just three more minutes before you board.

The busy airport faded that afternoon, all the people running, hugging, boarding and leaving. It was chaotic, but it’s just Suguru and you, as he’s breathless, his silky dark locks falling just so out of their bun. You felt it then, the emotions, as he opened his mouth to apologize for being late, but you stopped him with a big hug. He wrapped you in strong arms, pulling you against his chest.

“I almost didn’t come.” He admitted, you look up at him with eyes glittering with tears now, broken hearted at the comment.

“What? Why?”

“It’ll hurt too much.” He admitted, his own eyes glittering violet, lidded as tears threatened to spill, tears he cried all morning thinking of you leaving.

“Oh Sugu, I’ll miss you so much.” There was so much more you wanted to say, you ached to say, but you knew you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t spill a bunch of feelings a minute before leaving the country. Feelings you doubted were returned.

“I’ll miss the fuck out of you. Barely even seen you this year.” You nodded in agreement, choking up when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, cupping your face, and you ached to kiss his lips, he ached to kiss your lips. To tell you.

That he’ll always love you.

But he can’t do that, he can’t just ruin your opportunity, this is your dream, and he wants you to live it, despite it killing him, despite him longing to keep you by his side, forever. So he swiped those tears, smiling down at you, as the final minute was announced loudly, he felt his heart shattering, his mouth opening and closing, as it always does, because he was terrified.

Terrified to lose what he never had.

Terrified you wouldn’t feel the same, terrified also that maybe you did, and that he’ll mess up your opportunities, ruin your life.

Terrified of you getting on that plane.

Terrified.

“Suguru, I…” The announcer cut off your admission that day, he never heard it, he never heard that you said you love him.

“What?” He asked, as it quiets, and you feel a relief, having said it, even if he doesn’t know. You leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing his perfect high cheek bone, arm wrapping around him once more.

“I said something silly, Sugu. Just know, I’ll miss you most of all, out of everyone, I will.” He opened his mouth once more, only for you to place a kiss on it, quick, running off before you talked yourself out of it.

He called your name, and you turned as you’re about to board the plane, he feels like he has to tell you. He should, what if he never sees you again? But he waves at you, smiling just so. “I’ll miss you the most.” He responds, shouting across the airport now.

You smiled sadly, sniffling as you turned and left the love of your life, knowing he has no clue how you feel.

“I love you.” He whispered, watching your retreating figure, leaning against one of the pillars then, sobbing into his hand as your plane took off, not knowing when or if he would ever have a chance to tell you.

*****

You’re a mess now as you’re brought back to the present, Suguru pulls you against him tightly, feeling your every emotion rake through him. “I should have told you then.”

“Told me what, Sugu?” Your voice breaks as you ask him, and he smiles through his own tears when he can finally say those words.

“That I’m in love with you.” Your breath catches, entire body overheats, as your heart clenches with his words. “That I’ve been in love with you, since the day I first saw you reading that book outside. That your first kiss with me that day in middle school? I wrote in twenty different ways in my journal. That night Satoru kissed you, I should have told you that I’ve never been more upset.”

“Sugu…” He shushes you gently, shaking his head, standing you both up then, your hands go to his chest as he pulls you against him.

“The night of prom, I should have danced with you, I should have let you know then, that you were the one I wanted to be with me. I should have told you then that I was in love, but that day you left? I should have let you know that I wanted to be selfish, I wanted you to stay, by my side, every day. But I loved you so fucking much, I wanted you to have the best life, even without me.”

“Suguru Geto, my life was not great without you, it was lonely, it was empty.” You speak now, your hand enwrapping in his hair, as he gulps, leaning so close. “I should have told you that I loved you. That I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

Suguru gasps, and shakes his head, your words a dream, your body against his some insane fantasy. “You… you love me too?”

“God, yes, I always have. There was never anyone but you for me, not in my mind, not in my heart. I said it at the airport, but you didn’t hear, and I thought… I can’t do this, before I leave for years. So I didn’t repeat it, but in my heart? It’s always been you.”

He slams his lips on yours now, kissing you desperate, hungry, backing you until your shoulder blades hit the cold glass, you gasp at it, as he hovers above your lips. “Will you be mine, Princess?”

“I’m already yours, Sugu.” You answer, he groans then, turning you, unzipping your dress slowly, his long slender fingers trailing your spine when he lets it fall to the floor in a pool around your ankles, leaving you bare as the fireworks blast outside, his lips pressing kisses along the nape of your neck.

“You wanted another place kissed?” He whispers, you feel your cunt throb around nothing, nodding, getting so nervous when he turns you, when he sees your beautiful body naked for the first time, feeling his gaze all over you. “Oh fuck you’re so perfect.”

He melts your every fear.

“I want to see you.” You slip his shirt over his head, heating up when you see his broad chest, his perfect chiseled muscles, flat tan nipples pierced with black barbells, your body clenches when he’s got you back against him, his hands gripping your ass, just your panties a barrier now. “You’re so gorgeous, look at you.”

“Look at you.” You grin when he kisses you again, and he grins, you both have never felt this, the bliss, the beauty, words you both kept for so long spilling over and over in quiet whispers, when he picks you up in his arms, so effortlessly. “I need you in my bed.”

You cling to him, your thighs wrapped on narrow hips, and he carries you to his room, beautiful and huge, so clean aside from a set of journals scattered all over his bedside table. He lays you down then, kissing between the valley of your breasts, peeling down your damp sticky panties slowly off your thighs. You’re trembling as he does, hips arching up.

“Suguru…” You’re whining out when he’s between your thighs, broad shoulders nudging them apart, and he sees you intimately, all of you. His fingers part your plump lips, watching arousal drool out of your little hole, he looks up at you with hungry violet eyes, licking his glossy lips.

“Is this where you wanted your kiss, Princess? Your pretty pussy?” He asks huskily, you nod shyly, you’re so cute he thinks, when he laps at your honeyed arousal, making you cry out in pleasure, gushing more wetness out, coating his lips and tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

He’s lapping at you more now, his tongue ring hitting your clit, making you jerk, crying out as he starts flicking it over and over, long fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs, keeping them open as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hands entangle in his long locks, pulling his hair and earning his moan, you let go then and he looks up.

“Pull it, Princess. Fuck my face.”

“Fuck your… face!? I…” You’re panting, his tongue flicks again, teasing, and you pull his hair then, putting him right there, he devours you then, his fingers bruising in their grip, the sounds of Suguru drinking you lewd and wanton in his quiet room, the fan spinning above doing nothing to cool you down. “Ah, m’close, Sugu! S’good at… you’re s’good I-”

You’re mumbling as he sucks your clit in his mouth, feeling it twitch when his barbell hits it again, and then he hums. He fucking hums on your clit, your juices flowing all over his mouth as you cum so hard you can’t form a thought, clinging to his hair and rolling your hips, unsure how he was even breathing as he’s buried his face, moaning as he drinks you all up.

The slurping sounds are ridiculous, when he leans over you, he kisses you, and you taste your sweetness, gasping out when he slips a finger in your eager hole, feeling the aftershocks pulse around his fingers. “That’s it, Princess, can you cum again f’me?” He whispers, kissing back down your body.

“Y-yes, yes. Ah!” Suguru is curling those long fingers in your gummy walls, so slick they’re slippery, his tongue circling your clit again, and you’re so sensitive you’re close stupidly quick, he smiles against your pussy lips when he watches you, shaking and falling apart for him.

“Good girl, you’re close hmm?” You nod weakly, he begins scissoring his fingers in and out of your squelching wetness, which pours everywhere down his hand, down his wrist, his cock aching as he grinds against the bed. He could cum just from drinking you, tasting you, feeling you cum again, gripping him like a vise. “Can you take three Princess, I need you ready.”

“Three? I… think? I haven’t…” You’re nonsensical, it’s been so long, and you have never felt anything like this in your experiences, Suguru’s so precise, overstimulating you to the point of tears when he slips a third in, leaning over you, hair falling to the side, his face coated in your slick.

“You’re so fucking tight, god. Hear yourself?” You nod weakly, as he stretches you with his fingers, your own jerkily unbuckling him, gasping when his cock leaves his boxers, thick, heavy and so long, you gulp at it, throat dry.

“You’re huge.” He blushes at that, where you thought he may brag or laugh, but he just nods, then moans, eyes fluttering shut when you stroke him, down his veiny length to his reddened tip, drooling precum. “Will this fit?”

“I’m gonna have fun trying.” He teases, his voice a whisper, he pulls back and slides his boxers and pants off then, and you drink in his body for a blissful moment before he’s on you, laying on top of you, you whimper.

“Lemme suck you, Sugu.”

“I won’t make it. Next time.” You stroke him, running your thumb on his tip, making him hiss, you lick his pearly precum. “You’re too hot, stop it.”

“Me hot? You.” He moans, kissing you deeply, lining his cock up then with your entrance, sliding it between your lips, you’re crying out, nails pressing into his back when he starts sinking in you, stretching you so much it burns. You’re so full of him just barely in, just the tip, you’re almost cumming again from it, your eyes flying up to his.

“Are you okay, Princess? Need more work up?” He’s so sweet, so caring you melt, but you pull him more, rolling your hips, watching his violet eyes roll back when you take more of him.

“I want all of you, Sugu. I can take it.” You whisper, he groans, one hand bracing himself up, the other cupping your face when he sinks in further, then in two more thrusts his tip is pressing your cervix, so intense you scream out. He’s kissing down your throat as your thighs shake around his hips.

You’re so full.

Too full.

But it’s so good, you feel him fucking everywhere, you’re dizzy when he begins to move, when he starts pumping inside you, your wetness dripping down his length, down his balls that are smacking your ass as he fucks into you more and more. Suguru can’t stand how good your walls feel tightening around him, how wet you are, the sounds of skin smacking mixing with your cries and his soft moans.

You lose your breath when he bottoms out, stuffing you full of his cock, when he slides a hand down, pressing into your clit, and your eyes lock. He watches you with parted lips, rolling his thumb on it as he rolls his hips just so, bringing you close again, but this time it’s so intense you can’t handle it, you’re whimpering and sniffling, eyes rolling back in your skull.

“Let me fuckin feel you cumming around me, that’s it. You’re taking me so good, love.” Suguru is murmuring in your ear, your nails leave crescent marks in his back, feeling the muscles roll and bunch as he fucks into you, curved tip dragging just so, and your orgasm starts hitting you in waves. “Oh, there it is. Good girl, so good.”

“Suguru f-fuck!” You’re sobbing out the words, he pulls back, your eyes lock, one of his hands entwined with yours over your head, as you try to focus, try to keep your eyes from rolling back. You’re weak, pathetically mumbling under him, cock drunk eyes lidded and heavy as you whisper. “L-love you, Sugu.”

“Love you, Princess. Love your body, your pussy, how your face looks when you cum? How wet you are.” He praises you, every bit of you then, before he shoves your thighs up so high, until your knees are on his shoulders, leaning over and folding you in half under his weight, hands gripping your face when you gasp. “Where do you want all this cum, Princess?”

You’re so flustered now, cunt spasming around him, his pelvis pressing against you, still snug in your drooling hole, so deep you can’t think of where he ends or you begin. “In me, Sugu. In me.”

“Fuck.” He growls that word then, pounding his cock now into your hole, slamming your abused cervix, balls slapping heavy where your cunt is dripping down your ass, down to his blanket. “You’re a mess, Princess.”

“F-fuck… you… I am… but…” He laughs just a bit, you glare, tightening, making him gasp, and glare as you giggle.

“Bratty Princess, hmm?” You bite your lip, then start drooling as he jerks his hips, hitting your spot again, throbbing inside you. “Can you take it hard, love?”

“Y-yes.” He smiles, kissing you so sweet, before he leans up and starts fucking you harder, faster, mean strokes of his fat cock in your sweet little pussy, hands shoving your thighs even higher, you feel him in your tummy when your head falls back, he watched the bulge move in your tummy, the site ending him then.

“F-fuck… Princess… gonna fill you so full.” He leans down, breath against your lips, you whimper and try to open your eyes as he cums so much, filling your cunt, coating you with his white hot ropes. His groans fill the room while he pumps it more and more, until you’re both oversensitive messes.

“You… feel so good in me…” You whine, tears falling when he finally slows, allowing you to get a breath, your thighs falling to the side now. He kisses you over and over, gently, softly, all over your face. You cling to him, struggling to catch your breath as you both come down. Suguru eases out, watching the mess of his cum and yours pour out of your little hole then.

“Oh my god, look at you, took so much cum in you, didn’t you?” He kisses your inner knee, you giggle, skin so sensitive you feel ticklish, he smiles softly, running his fingers across your skin.

“Ah!”

“Do you get like this after?” He muses, watching goosebumps form everywhere he touches, you shake your head then.

“Never, it’s never been like this for me.”

Suguru kisses your lower lip, exhaling sweetly on your lips. “It’s never been like this for me, either. God I can’t believe you’re here.”

Soon he’s got you cleaned up, and you’re wearing one of his sweaters, it’s swallowing you, so comfy and it smells just like him, you keep inhaling the sleeves as he makes you both coffee, you’re sitting on his balcony watching the fireworks. You’re enamored by them, but Suguru is watching you, your pretty face so enthralled by the sky, he can’t take his eyes off you.

You smile at him then, melting his heart, snuggling up to him and resting your chest, feeling his heart thud against your ear. “So where are you staying?” He asks, you lean up, sipping the coffee then sighing.

“My parents for now, ugh I know! But I need to find a place, the market is so crazy right now.”

“Stay here.”

You blink in shock, mouth opening. “Sugu, I’d love to but…”

“Then stay here. Home, where you belong.” He says softly, and you feel those tears again, tonight has been such a whirlwind, but this?

“Home.” You repeat softly, and he gently kisses your salty tears from your cheeks, as you snuggle even closer to him. “I feel like I’m home, Sugu.”

“Then stay with me. For as long as you want. Forever.”

“Yes.” You kiss his lips, and Suguru soon has you back in his bed, as you all get to know each other in every way, the fireworks are still thundering outside, as you get the best new years kisses all over your entire body.

And that was the last time Suguru tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same way the entire time.

A/N- This one was a lot of work so I really hope you all enjoyed, I love this format of storytelling, if anyone wants another similar let me knowww! Hope you enjoyed I got emotional w/this one, have an AMAZING new year!

Taglist: @higuchislut @cocoamide @imodii @makingtimemine @smolcooki33 @fushitoru @levislug @pe4rl-diver @indiewritesxoxo @uhnosav @candy-s72 @moonlitwitchdaisy @soobinsbreadscrumbs @inthedarkshadows000 @iheartkhloe @mawhoreagaa @yunho-leeknow @you-transfix-me @sugusmonkeyy @aldebrana @xixflower @witchbybirth @katsukihair23 @username23345 @ninikrumbs @stardust-mina

Post

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #6

(A/N: Vote winner so I did my best to finish this)

"Screw it, i am done..." Danny grumbled as he stepped onto the watchtower through a portal, ignoring the startled heroes around him, or his own rather disheveled state. His green glowing eyes surveyed the room he was in for a brief moment before his eyes zeroed in on the one hero that caused to much work for him.

"YOU!" He pointed an accusing finger at the red clad hero before floating over and grabbing the hero by the front of his hero suit. "Do you have any idea how much work you cause me!"

Danny got one confused blink before he launched into a rather thorough explanation of what he just went through fixing 20 different timelines that got created because of one flashpoint while shaking the Flash like he was a ragdoll, ignoring the other heroes around him.

Clark, who arrived a little late to the meeting, looked around the meeting room confused. He glanced to the side to one of his hero colleagues. "Is there....?"

"A white haired floating teen boy giving Barry the lecture of a lifetime?" Oliver cut in arms crossed as he watched on. "Yes, there is."

Clark blinked, looking back at the scene and then back at Oliver. "And..."

"And Bruce is actually taking notes and enjoying Barry getting lectured to an inch of his speedster life while also getting information on time itself? Yes he is." Oliver added an, his tone slightly frustrated but also happy that he wasn't at the receiving end of the teen boy's rant. The kid had been going on about different time lines and the multiverse theory as well as how Barry apparently created several different timelines any time a new flashpoint happened or the past gets seemingly changed. Oliver wasn't even sure the kid was breathing with the way he had been talking non stop.

"And for the record! Changing the past does not automatically fix your present! You just created an entirely new timeline! Do you know how many times I had to fix these? You left so many unattended timelines! I would be rich now if I had gotten a dollar for every time I or my siblings had to fix the stuff you did! Did you ever hear about the multiverse theory?! Hell you are heroes! Didn't you deal with other universes already!?"

The kid rambled on and Clark was pretty sure he wasn't hearing the kid breath in once, which was worrying in so many different levels. But a little traitor part of his mind was actually finding the situation quiet funny.

"Oh and don't get me started on your spawns!" Clark winced a little as he heard the floating boy breath in for the first time in his entire rant before launching into another rant about how it wasn't just Barry but his entire family. Next to him Oliver chucked finding the moment simply funny end enjoying the show of Barry, aka the Flash getting lectured by a floating teen boy.

Though they partially wondered why Bruce wasn't stepping in but then again, the kids rant was... rather informative if he wasn't cursing at Barry's entire family.

A little earlier that day...

Danny groaned as a green note fluttered onto his desk in the middle of his English exam. His head hit the desk and he was sure he was creating some sort of misunderstanding and appearing like he didn't study enough for this exam. Which for once he did, he actually had managed to get time to study for this exam for once. And that despite all the work that had been piling up lately.

The fun fact was that work didn't pile up because of some ghost king title or something, or his rogues dogpiling on him. No it piled up because of a hero organisation outside of Amity. Now don't get him wrong, he admires these heroes. The ones from outer space are his favorites even. But unknown to them they caused im a lot of work ever since clockwork started to mentor him.

Danny glanced at his English exam and then at the note before his head hit the desk again.

Just one day... was one day to much to ask?

He blames whatever hero was at fault this time as he couldn't concentrate on is exam anymore. He barely remembers finishing it as he hurried out of the classroom, forgetting to give Sam and Tucker an explanation as he went ghost and hurried of to the ghost zone. Danny's eye twitch a little when he noticed Clockworks amused expression.

"What is it this time?" Danny groaned already knowing he wouldn't like what he was going to hear.

"Another flashpoint was created. You know what this means." Clockwork chucked handing him a time medallion and Danny groaned even more.

"Can't Dan or Dani..." He started but Clockwork cut him off with an amused headshake. "No, they are currently busy with another job I gave them."

Reluctantly Danny nodded and stepped through the time portal. While he knew, he would actually only be gone for a minute at most in the present, it still annoyed him that he had to constantly fix time. And most of the time it was because of one specific hero at that. He was not looking forward on how many different timelines he had to fix right now now. this was going to take a while too. Even if only maybe a minute will pass in his timeline.

He still had bruises from the last 20 timelines he fixed. And in all honesty he was getting tired of this kid of work, he was partially sure Clockwork was him now, so he wouldn't have to do this himself. Or the ancient of time was getting a kick out of watching Danny fumble while fixing other timelines.

He yelped as he dodged velocraptors right after coming out of the time portal. "SERIOUSLY?! THE MESOZOIC ERA THIS TIME TOO?! WHAT AM I EVEN SUPOSED TO FIX HERE?!" He yelled at nothing in particular. That was it, this time, this time he decided he would finally go and pay these heroes a visit and make them aware how much work they had been causing him...

[okwonyo]

.. TRYNA CHANGE YOUR MIND ⠀ ⟡​⠀YJW

─── 𝖮𝖭 𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖪𝖭𝖤𝖤𝖲 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖸𝖮𝖴. ⠀❀ ⠀❛ 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗒.

정원 & fem!rea 1.6THOU の fluff exsituationship getting together warn𓈒 drunk!jungwon profanity ﹑ recue𝒾l

嘉 i was a bit in a rush writing this and i got carried away a little bit … ㅠㅠ but happy birthday @soov 🎀

reblogs ੭୧ feebacks ─── click ！

you have been staring at your phone’s screen for what feels like an eternity. your body stays in halt, as if frozen— there is a battle between your heart and brain.

“can i come over?” questions the last message received by you. it’s only four simple words, but it puts an invisible weight in your stomach. blossoming feeling or growing guilt, you are unable to say, unable to pinpoint.

the message before this one says, “i did something stupid” and you recent your burning curiosity and glimpse of desire for even opening it in the first place.

you try to not let your feelings take over again. your lip almost hurts from how hard you have been biting it— finding a sane balance between spirit and body is hard. especially when it comes to him.

a notification brings you out of your trance like state before making it worse, “please,” it says. your name at the end of it makes your breath hitch.

the worst part is that you already went through this already.

you take your phone, takes a deep breath before telling him to not come to your apartment. you prepare yourself to reject him once again. to apologize and to turn off your phone without reading his answer.

however, tonight your body moves on it’s own: “yes,” you send first without even realizing. “of course you can.”

double texting your ex situationship might be the most embarrassing you have done so far.

you throw your phone on your bed before putting your palm in your eyes and groaning gently. you fall backwards, your body bounces on the soft mattress as you rethink your life decision.

it is three in the morning. no one should ever have to deal with this kind of situation so early— or late, considering the fact that you haven’t slept yet— in the day. especially not with jungwon.

the doorbell rings the moment your back hits your bed. approximately, ten seconds after you responded to his text.

a smile creeps on your face unknowingly.

before opening the door, when you hold the door’s handle, jungwon ring the bell again. and, out of pettiness, you want to leave hum hanging a little bit more.

but you don’t.

you open the door in one breathe, the outside door hit your face— it is nothing compared to what you feel when you see his face after so long. well, merely a week.

he stares down at you with slightly widened eyes, as if he didn’t expect to you see you there. although he is the one who wanted to come over. you swear he has got manlier and his freshly new blonde hair makes you weak in the knees.

his first instinct is to step closer. even if his state is as clear as a day, he is enchanting. the scent of the liquor on his lips is mixed with sugar touches your lips as he breathes, his eyes pouring their devotion into yours, his beautiful face.

he leaves you breathless.

his eyes fall on your lips, staring at them shamelessly while you are not capable of focusing on anything but his face. while you are not capable of doing anything but wait for the connection.

he gets so close, starry-eyed and a pink hue on his cheeks. he looks like he is daydreaming although you are right in front of him. so lost in the clouds that he stumbles over his own feet— breaking the rising romantic tension.

you chuckle as he falls against the doorframe, “and we didn’t even kiss yet.”

he chuckles back, standing up straight and trying to maintain is posture as much as he can. he leans against the doorframe he just fell on, trying to appear cool. “i missed you.”

it is lovely, really. it gets you giddy. maybe you even blush a little. alas, you cannot help but huff slightly. not even in a mean way, a very faint smile appears on your face, but just to make him remember, “you’re drunk.”

jungwon doesn’t say anything. he barely even budges, he just blinks at you. he contemplates your face and forgets to answer somewhere along the line. he breathes again, “i missed you.”

he says it softly, as if omitting the fact that he has never said that to you before. it falls like water. angelic and dreamy. oh, so dreamy.

it is your turn to watch him now. with eyes narrowed as you examine his foolish expression. he doesn’t seem regretful in the slightest, as if it was as natural as breathing to him.

“i’ll give you some water,” you sigh, turning around to get into your apartment. he follows you immediately, even closing the door when you don’t look back. you continue, “it’ll make you quiet for a while.”

jungwon’s steps are steady for how drunk he looks. you have never seen him this red in the face ever.

“you have such—” cuts himself as he swallows before giggling. “a way with words, my love.”

you wince. he only calls you that when he is full of alcohol— well, he only texts you when he is full of alcohol, if you are being honest. he calls you nicknames sometimes, to annoy you most of the time. but he only add ‘my’ when he is drunk. he is only ever intimate when he is drunk.

pouring water in a glass, you don’t even respond to him. you don’t tell him to shut up as you usually do, you don’t hit him playfully, you just wince. not feeding into this, it doesn’t feel right.

you turn around to jungwon being nowhere in sight. even as you look around you, he disappeared. and for a minute, you wonder if you are starting to have hallucinations. until someone tap your hand, making you look down.

you almost told a man on his knees to get up before he protested, “please, let me do this,” and honestly, you are just a weak woman.

jungwon takes a shaky breath before starting to talk, “listen, i know you didn’t want to see me anymore,” he starts, his brown eyes get progressively more sad and desperate as he looks at you. “and i know that i have been an idiot.”

your grip on the glass of water in your hands gets tighter. you bite down your lip to fight the urge of saying something like ‘it’s an understatement’.

he smiles, catching your antics, “i apologize for my behavior,” he adds. it shocks you a tad, you frown. “i truly do,” his hands clap together, as if it was a prayer. “i know i said i wasn’t ready for a relationship, i know that we agreed to not see each other anymore but i— i missed you so much. as if my heart was missing in my chest,” weirdly poetic. “i need you with me.”

your mouth gets dry. you feel a jolt deep in the pit of your stomach. you put the glass on the kitchen’s counter. to refresh both of your memories, you speak, “jugwon,” he waits for you to continue. “you’re drunk. please, get up.”

instead, he kneels closer and takes your hand in this, “no, no, not that much,” he pleads. “give me just one chance. one last chance to prove what i feel for you. i—i promise, i won’t fail you, love.”

his words fall out of his mouth like sweet honey. so sweet and tempting. the way he looks at you, begging for you on his knees, his eyes like alluring pearls.

you might give in.

as far as your remember, he has never done that. he has never said those words to you, even as drunk as he might have been. he is the kind to lie to get what he wants, you have to admit.

although you would love to have a reason to hate him— he is not a liar. maybe just a coward at times.

you get your hands out of his grip. his pretty lips parts, ready to beg you a little more but he calms down when you cup his cheeks.

looking down at him, your thumb parts his lips, brushing over their petal softness. tingles runs down your back when he sighs. you lean in. falling, falling and falling into him like you always do.

“please,” he implores. “please.”

you give him a gentle peck before pulling away slightly. his hand comes holding your wrist, a silent plea. you kiss him again. longer and more passionate than before. he kisses you right back.

between a kiss you murmur, “stand up,” and he obliges immediately.

his strong arms hugs your waist. you bury your fingers in his hair before wrapping your arms around his neck. he is so desperate, his entire body curves into yours. you can feel his heartbeat rising inside of your own chest as it goes on.

his mouth is warm, soft and tastes like enough alcohol to intoxicate you a little and enough sugar to make you crave for more.

you both bump into the kitchen counter, making the glass of water you put there shake. but you don’t care enough to see if it fell or not, because his tongue teases yours just right. you feel faint when he tilts his head to the side to get in your mouth properly— a little too great and little too good.

he manages to get you out of breath after a few seconds. his lips are red, his cheeks are crimson and you want to kiss him again.

“you better do things right,” you grin. he presses his fingertips under your top as you talk, not to take it off, just to touch— it makes you gasp at the end of your sentence.

in a hoarse whisper, he tells you, “i promise, you i will.”

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[cirambay-stories]

Sitter

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

You’re spending spring break alone at home while your father is five thousand miles away when all of sudden, you fall sick. Enter Joel Miller: your father’s buddy, sent by him to check on you.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is in college, Joel in his early 50s), no outbreak, no mother in the picture but your father has a named girlfriend (sorry), no bra household, dry humping, footjob while watching SpongeBob, oral (m and f receiving).

Word count: 6.8k

“Dad,” your voice is hoarse like it has just come out from a dying goose, and you spend the next five seconds trying to clear your throat.

“So like, I’m… sick, kinda, but it’s not really bad, so—” A train of coughs that feels like they are going to tear your lungs apart. “—sorry about that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry too much, don’t even think about it. I just wanted to let you know.” Another coughing fit. “Okay. Have fun, I love you.”

You click your phone screen and let the voicemail find its way to your father’s ancient block of telecommunication. It’s 11 p.m. for you, 5 a.m. in Tuscany, you calculate with your fingers. You might be wrong. Either way, your father is probably asleep. He had been away for a couple of days with his girlfriend Amy for her nephew's wedding. And they plan to spend another week there, because it’s their anniversary, and Amy had always wanted to go to Italy.

“Will you be okay?” your father asked, apologetic. He leaned onto your bedroom door’s frame while you were unpacking your backpack.

“Yeah, Dad, what am I, eight? Go.” you laughed lightheartedly.

“It’s just you came down here from school and then I go, you know. I wish you’d said yes and come with us.”

“And third-wheeling you and Amy for ten days?” you giggled. “Dad, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll still have the weekend together when you come back.”

You heard Amy call for your father from downstairs, followed by a question about his dress shirt. You grinned, gesturing for him to go.

“Me and Amy will make sure the fridge is full, okay?” he says, voice fading as he steps down the stairs. You shook your head. You’ve survived on dry ramens and day-old coffees in college. You would be okay. Right?

Loud buzzer sound. The game show on the TV you put on to distract yourself from the fever is not doing a good job. You try to focus, but the noises coming out of it sound muffled, and the colors are just so bright and saturated that they make your head spin. You click on mute before slamming the remote on the coffee table, and it lands safely on some crumpled Kleenex. A thermometer is sitting next to the box, the tiny display screen blank. It’s broken, and you make a mental note to scold your father for always keeping faulty things around the house as if he’s going to fix them. A few bottles of pills you fished out of your father’s medicine cabinet to at least ease your aching muscles are toppled next to a half-empty Nyquil Nighttime Relief bottle with its cap screwed but crooked.

You second-guess your decision to let your father know that you’re unwell. But again, he hates surprises, so letting him know that he might find your rotting corpse in front of his TV when he gets back is, perhaps, doing him a favor.

It’s dark in the living room, and the leather couch is sticking to your sweaty leg. You should probably put sweatpants and a hoodie on instead of biker shorts and a stretched out shirt that looks more like a rag than a proper clothing item. But climbing the stairs now? No, thank you.

You shift your body, trying to find the best position to fall asleep in since the wrong angle seems to block your nasal passage. A groan leaves your throat when you can’t pull the fleece blanket to cover your body. You find out you are sitting on both ends of it. To hell with it.

You blink slowly. The Nyquil seems to start working. Can’t sneeze or cough if you’re knocked out, you think. You close your eyes, the colors from the TV somehow find their way in and flash washed-out red, white, yellow behind your eyelids. You’re too tired to reach for the remote.

Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.

You jolt when something cold makes contact with your forehead. Within microseconds, you yeet the thing away hysterically, hitting yourself in the process. The thing flies and lands on the wooden floor with a wet, thwap sound.

“Easy, easy,”

If it was just a little bit not so sudden and confusing and designed to constrict your blood vessels until your organs fail, you would have yelped. You nearly snap your neck trying to find the source of the voice, and your tense shoulders fall as quickly as they were raised when you notice the familiar face belonging to a broad frame standing next to the couch.

It’s Joel Miller.

Of course it’s him. Your father likely has him on speed dial.

He and your father go way back. Went to the same school, crushed on the same girls, hit the same bong, and so on. They were even in a band together. Your father has pictures of them from years ago, with greasy hair, earrings, bass and drumsticks in their hands. Cringe.

Well, just your father. Not Joel though.

You haven’t seen him in like, what, a year? And yet he looks good as ever. Well, Joel has always looked good his whole life. When you saw the pictures of him from high school you thought, Oh Fuck, I Would Totally Have A Crush On This Guy. And then you had to sit in silence and ponder, because, well, you are having a crush on this guy. Sort of. Maybe.

He bends over to pick up the thing you just yeeted on the floor, which is apparently a washcloth, and dunk it in a basin on the side table, which is now clean from all the stuff that was previously there.

“Joel,” you chirp. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he smiles as he squeezes the washcloth. Beads of water come trickling down his knuckles back to the basin, gleaming in front of the still-turned-on TV.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. What time is this?” you straighten up, rummaging around the blanket to find your phone to no avail.

“One-thirty. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Your old man asked me to check on you." He folds the cloth in two and dab it before stepping closer and pressing it against your forehead, nice and cold. His other hand supports your head from the back, basically cradling your skull.

“Your front door was unlocked when I came in.” says Joel, as if you are capable of digesting any kind of information at the moment. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “And sorry my Dad made you come here. You didn’t have to, it’s not so bad.”

“Come on, it’s only a ten minute drive. ‘S okay. I checked your forehead. Not too bad, but still a fever, y’know. You took the Nyquil?”

The thought of Joel Miller touching your forehead with his palm in the dark while you were asleep somehow makes the neurons in your brain stop interlinking for a second. Were you sleeping with your mouth open the whole time? You knew you did fall asleep that way since you couldn’t breathe through your nose. Man.

“I did.” you nod, shaking the thought away. You feel your lungs tighten, though. Another coughing fit incoming.

“Good,” Joel presses his hand to your forehead again as if trying to make sure the wet washcloth is properly glued onto your face. The soft pressure disrupts your composure and you cough like a machine gun submerged in a container full of Elmer’s glue, hacking up thick mucus up your throat. Joel leaves your side with hurried steps and, within seconds, somehow has a paper cup under your chin for you to spit into.

You try to grab the cup, flustered, but he doesn’t let go and instead helps you sit up straight, patting your back.

“Spit.” he says as you wheeze with phlegm in your mouth like an imbecile. You awkwardly grab his wrist for support and spit the mucus out into the cup. Soon you’ll realize how foolish it is to grab someone’s wrist using the same hand you used to cover your mouth while coughing. The string of saliva takes a ridiculously long time to break free from your lips, but Joel is unfazed. He takes a glance at the mucus, likely checking the color and consistency.

“Thanks,” you blink rapidly, still processing.

“You wanna go to urgent care?” Joel asks.

“Nu-uh,” you shake your head. “I’m okay, I promise. I feel a lot better already.”

“It’s probably just a bug,” he pats your back again before walking to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. “How long has it been going on?”

You wait until he comes back because you don’t think you can speak loud enough for him to be able to hear you from the kitchen without tearing your throat apart. Joel thinks you didn’t hear him the first time and is about to repeat his question when you say, “Uh, it got progressively worse last night.” you realize how serious that sounds and quickly add, “But not like, worse worse. I mean, compared to,”

“And before that?”

“Just a scratchy throat.”

He looks like he’s mentally taking notes with arms folded in front of his stomach. It’s the first time that night you take a full look at him under the glow of the muted TV. You can’t really make the colors out, but he’s wearing a dark t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt and jeans. He’s keeping his beard kind of thin compared to the last time you saw him, but still the same, well-tended mustache that makes a strong presence over his lips. You can’t help but notice the graying strands of hair that stick out among his dark, messy hair, complimenting him so well. You are pretty sure the ratio between light to dark hair has been shooting up this year. You like it.

And his eyes. They’re rich, and dark, and the fact that he furrows half of the time that it creates permanent dents between his eyebrows just makes him ridiculously hotter.

The mucus factory must be working overtime tonight because you can feel the slight slippery feeling of lubrication where you’re sitting. Fucking stupid, you think, read the room.

All of sudden, a lightning flashes, lighting up your surroundings before the grumbling roar of thunder follows through. For a second, you can make out the shapes and silhouettes of everything in the room like a photograph. Joel fits rightly in the left third of this main piece in your mind exhibition. You wish you could take screenshots with your eyes and keep it to admire later.

Joel glances out the window. Heat lightning reveals the blobs of clouds outside, and the strong wind is starting to blow debris to rattle the windows. He shifts his focus on you again. “Did you eat?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug. Storm is coming, Joel better go home before it gets worse.

He chuckles. “Yes or no?”

That chuckle tickles something deep inside of you. You smile shyly. “Yes, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, and you are pretty sure he senses that you did not, in fact, eat dinner. “I’m starvin’, actually,” he gets up and takes his flannel shirt off, and then tosses it on the couch before making his way towards the kitchen. You scream internally at the sight of his biceps like a deranged fangirl.

“Mind if I take a look in the fridge?” he yells while opening the fridge door. Just being polite. He knows your father will let him dismantle the house and take the pieces home if he wants to.

You free the tangled blanket from around your legs, only noticing now how under your old, sweat-dampened, Marlin Club shirt, your nipples are as erect as fireman’s poles. Was it the temperature, Joel, or both, you can’t conclude.

Joel whistles when he finds that the fridge is full. He grabs a can of beer and pops it open, studying the contents of the fridge and thinking of what he can cook for you as he gulps the beer down.

You follow him to the kitchen, jump to sit on the kitchen island as Joel grabs some produce off the fridge and sets them next to you. He looks at you, blinks a couple of times, then occupies himself with the food cabinet over the counter. You try to be helpful by unwrapping the basil and cherry tomatoes.

“So, how’s school?” Joel breaks the silence as he washes his hands. “And don’t just say okay, please.”

“You got me there,” you laugh. “Nothing really amusing, really.”

Then a few more superficial, classic-catching-up questions while you both prepare the pesto. Joel asks about the trip to Italy, how your father mentioned proposing to Amy soon, what do you think about that. You ask about his brother Tommy, work, and the average cost to renovate a room, to which Joel answers in detail really nicely. Then come the usual do-you-remember-when stories, melting down the strange and awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Laughters fill up the room. It’s fun and familiar.

“Did you remember when you used to call me Uncle Joel?” Joel sneers as he tosses a pan to the sink. “You used to be so nice and polite.”

“I was like six!” You snorted. “And you can’t even pay me to call you that again, Joel.”

Then, the once-your-pops-and-I anecdotes. You’ve heard some of them from your own father’s mouth, but you still listen to Joel’s versions eagerly anyway.

At one point, you start to cough again so Joel instructs you to just sit down on the counter. You don’t complain—it means you can just sit back and watch him from the back and imagine how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair.

When Joel stirs the pasta with the pesto sauce, the weather has gone full-blown insane out there.

“You should stay the night,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. His presence is sending arrays of erroneous signals to your reproductive organs, which will most likely result badly if he stays, but how can you let him drive home in this kind of weather?

Joel hands you a fork and pushes a plate of fusilli for you to eat. “Eh, we’ll see,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind drivin’ through a storm, but I can’t just leave you alone if you don’t feel well.”

“Dad told me you got a folded chair smashed through your windshield last summer.” You take a bite, the thick sauce coats your tastebuds and you groan in satisfaction, even though you can’t really taste it to the fullest because of your stuffy nose.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Joel chuckles. “I was lucky it aimed for the shotgun.”

He eats standing up across you, one elbow on the counter. When you both finish the meal, he takes your plate and starts washing the dishes. You tell him to do it later, and then offer your help, and he says no to both. You insist on drying the dishes anyway, standing side by side with him.

After the very late dinner, you two retreat to the living room. Joel asks you to take some medication again and you decline, stating that you feel better already.

“Headstrong, ain’t ya?” Joel sighs. “Okay, sleep then. Wanna sleep in your bed?”

“Not really sleepy,” you shake your head. “Feel free to take Dad’s bed, by the way. You have work in the morning, right?”

“Nah, I’m alright by the couch.” Joel scoots to make room for his legs and lies on his back, groaning like every other old person when they finally get to be horizontal. His feet are dangling on one side, his head on the opposite armrest. You take the old recliner that doesn’t even recline anymore near Joel’s feet, facing both the TV and Joel at an angle.

The TV is still on, showing the same game show but already on a later season. You unmute it and watch it together with Joel for five minutes before you realize that none of you has laughed yet, and you ask Joel if he wants to watch a movie instead. He says why not.

You open a streaming service and browse for movies on the home page. Joel probably likes action and other classic old man genre types. You pretend to read some of the summaries and see if Joel perks up at one of them, but he doesn’t seem to really care about the TV.

“I don’t know what to watch,” you admit. “Do you wanna pick the movie?”

Truth is, Joel can’t give a single shit about no goddamn movie. He’s been distracted by so many thoughts in his mind. But he gestures for you to scroll back up anyway.  “Let’s see the trending ones.”

You stop at a tally of newly released and currently popular films at the top of the page, giving Joel a chance to read about them before moving to the next one.

“This one looks excitin’.” Joel points at the screen. The poster shows a man in classic Viking attire, staring intently at the viewer with striking blue eyes. Some kind of pelt is draped over his shoulders. His hands are on top of each other, resting on a sword handle, the blade facing the earth. Dried mud and blood are splattered over his face and armor. The Conquest, it says. You don’t recognize the actors listed. The summary says something about revenge, passion, blood, power, blah blah. You click play.

The movie opens with a battle scene. The movie looks like it runs out of lighting budget, and you need to squint to be able to tell what they are actually doing. Nothing can be heard except grunts and blades clashing. You look over at Joel to see his expression, but he’s looking at you. He quickly averts his gaze back to the screen.

Twenty minutes pass, and none of you are really paying attention to the plot. Not until the main guy enters a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water with his asscheeks out, and then a woman enters the scene with nothing but a thin white veil covering her body. She drops the cloth and joins him. The warm light from the torches is highlighting her breasts.

“Woah,” you look at Joel again, but he says nothing, but you can see his Adam’s apple moving awkwardly.

They kiss, and he grabs her bosom with his humongous palms and knead them. Then he buries his face between them, with the woman kissing the top of his head. After what feels like a millenia, he lifts her lower half from the water, and then puts her down to sit on the edge of the tub before performing cunnilingus. She moans.

You start to feel a pool of heat brewing inside of you. This feels invasive of their privacy, somehow, with no soundtrack added, just fire crackling and water splashing and erotic moaning.

Joel clears his throat. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t watch this,”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” you say, eyes fixated on the screen.

“Well, it didn’t say nothin’ about eatin’ a lady out in the summary.”

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving only the sound of rain hitting your window in your eardrums.

“Hey,” you whine. “That’s not nice. I didn’t say yes.”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” Joel folds his arms over his chest, partly staying warm, partly because he’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He then closes his eyes, knowing damn well he’s far from feeling tired let alone fall asleep.

“We’re both adults anyways,” you mutter, but Joel doesn’t move. He’s probably actually tired.

Your gaze is affixed on him. He surely doesn’t look like he’s sleeping in peace right now but he’s still handsome nonetheless. His old shirt is a tad bit too tight around his biceps. You can see the protruding veins beautifully decorating his arms and hands. His legs are slightly crossing with one ankle on top of another, and his breath is steady. He’s gorgeous.

In your wildest dreams, you would jump to straddle Joel, and he would grab your hips and fuck you to death. Is it bad that your immune system is fighting one of the worst battles in your life, and yet your number one priority is somehow to get laid, by this man specifically? It’s both excruciating and foolish. 

The movie you just saw doesn’t help, either. In fact, it makes everything worse. Your mind keeps wandering back to it, the way the man eats the woman out, and then back to Joel, imagining the top of his head would look like when he eats you out. Fuck. You know that if you don’t get to touch this man in the next 30 minutes, you are either going to combust or burn everything in the vicinity.

You close your eyes, try to do the mindfulness practice you once saw in a magazine. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You repeat “Release me from this earthly desire” in your head like a rookie buddhist wizard trying to cast a spell with a broken wand. You ball your fists in your lap so hard the joints start to hurt.

It’s not working.

Your mind keeps wandering back to different scenarios, different positions, different spots around the house. Low grunts, fingertips pressing your sides, tongue between your lips…

You can’t do it anymore. You need release. You need to at least be able to feel something, a little reward for your throbbing clit. Trying your best to be as casual as possible, you pull your folded legs closer to your body, your left heel even closer to your biker-short-covered cunt, and shift your body weight on it.

The pleasure that has been building up there bursts like a balloon. You sigh.

There are two things that Joel is not: young, and oblivious.

Oh, he is totally aware of what’s happening. You are not doing a good job trying to be subtle. From the non-stop staring, to the constant fidgeting, to the borderline sexual sighs, to the hard nipples, Joel knows you are going through something that is completely different from just being ill.

And he totally understands. He’s been there, done that. There was a time when his back wasn’t hurting and his face hadn’t been ‘graced’ with crow’s feet and age spots yet, when his hormones were at all-time high and his blood liked nothing more than flowing to his cock recklessly at the slightest inducement. He understands what you are going through.

So when you start grinding yourself onto your left heel followed by soft moans, he is not exactly surprised, just mostly in awe of your debauched audacity.

That is too much, even for him. He clears his throat, hoping you’d catch the hint and stop for good. But you don’t, and your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and your hips are moving slowly, sensually, chasing something, the sight of it stirs something up in his guts.

It is vulgar, and most importantly indecent in every way, but Joel can feel his own arousal creeping up no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it is not happening.

He calls your name. Your body responds faster than the critically thinking part of your brain and you stop like you just got cursed by Medusa. 

You can physically feel your heart drop to your ass. Your neck moves stiffly to find his eyes like a broken animatronic. “Yeah?” you croaked.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”

You blink. Deny? Act stupid? Admit? Deny, deny. Wait, deny? No, act stupid.

“What… Do you mean?” you say, and you realize that you chose the dialogue option that actually sounds the dumbest.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Might as well hump me if you want it that much.”

Wait, what? Your eyes light up. “Really?”

Joel stares at you in genuine perplexity before lifting one hand up to massage his temples. He takes a deep breath, and in the softest way possible—like telling a puppy she can’t eat electronic parts—sighs, “No.”

“Oh,” you cover your mouth. “I thought you meant—“

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” he sighs again, sounding significantly more frustrated. He then uses his hands to support himself to a sitting position, composing himself.

Silence. You don’t dare to look at Joel, but your cunt keeps pulsing like a metal detector. You understand that the beeping—desire—will not die down unless you get the valuable artefact from the bronze age—Joel—in your hand. Is this time to be bold and brash?

“Joel,” you call, and you can swear that was not a sober decision, but the stage curtains have been pulled back, and you are pushed to the stage to play your part.

“Hm?”

“What if… I hump you anyway?” you stand up, and your knees are slightly buckling but you act tough and bold regardless.

Joel’s jaws opens and stays slightly agape for a while before he says, “That fever is really messin’ with your brain, huh? Sit down.”

“You’re bricked up, Joel.” you accuse. You don’t actually know for sure since Joel keeps a hand on his lap to cover his crotch, but Joel gulps. Gotcha.

“Unrelated to you.” he hissed in defense.

You scoff.

“Joel, please,” you grouse, voice cracking and desperate. “I want this so bad.” you whisper as you take slow, threatening steps towards Joel until your crotch is not even an inch away from his knee. “I want you so bad.”

“This ain’t right, kid.” Joel puts a hand on the outer side of your arm, and it’s worth pointing out that he’s shaking. “You know that.”

Joel doesn’t tell you that he’s battling demons in his head, and he’s currently losing. A million impulses are catapulting burning boulders onto the gate of his conscience, and all he got is one bleeding, sickly troop with a chipped wooden sword. But he puts his best stern expression despite the fact that his body is betraying him.

He could leave now. Push you away. Clear his head. Come back later. Or not come back at all.

But he knows he doesn’t want to. He can hear his blood rushing and his heart singing battle cry. Not to mention his cock, hard and nearly burns a hole through his jeans.

A long pause. You want to push him further, but you know you don’t need to. The black marlin printed on your shirt does a worthless attempt at distracting Joel from your hard nipples, putting him into a trance.

Joel takes a deep breath. He knows he has lost. “You can help yourself, that’s all,” he nods, more trying to convince himself rather than talking to you. “Just to make you shut up and get rest. That’s it.”

That’s an unenthusiastic barf-colored green light, but it is a green light nonetheless.

You put your hands on Joel’s shoulder before putting your left knee next to his right leg and lower yourself down onto his thigh, while your other knee rests in front of his crotch and presses onto his raging hard-on. Your cunt pulsates in pleasure upon contact, and you let out a gasp. Joel anxiously places his hands on your sides to keep you steady, one thumb ‘accidentally’ brushing your nipple, earning a whine. You lock gaze with him, and start moving.

The friction sends buzzes up your head. You make each grind count, and every single one feels like heaven despite the layers of fabric between your cunt and his beefy thigh. Moans and Joel’s name spill from your lips indeliberately, and he tightens his grip on your body until his fingertips turn white as if you would fly away with a gust of wind if he doesn’t. If you weren’t so absorbed in your own pleasure, you would’ve noticed how shallow and rapid Joel’s breath has become. It turns him on watching you getting off because of him, using him, how your eyelids flutter and your pupils are having a hard time staying in place.

Joel wants to break free from his denim, badly. While he consciously thought, planned, and stated that he’s doing what he’s doing only for your satisfaction and be done with it, it isn’t exactly nice having your kneecap pushing button-flies shaped caves on his crotch repeatedly. Especially not when his cock, which probably has its own brain, has been begging to be taken care of, too.

You, on the other side, are having the best time of your life. As your climax is building up in your south region, you smile at Joel, who smiles back. His hand leaves your ribs briefly to brush the hair that is sticking to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “So good, Joel, so good,”

For a moment there you consider kissing him. His face is merely two inches away from you, and he looks ravishing, all sweaty and blushing. And how you just want to have your tongue inside his mouth, his lips all over yours sloppily. But that feels like overstepping boundaries, like a whole uncharted area you can’t cross, spreading the flu aside. You opt to put your chin on his shoulder instead, trying to focus on your orgasm.

“I want to see your face,” Joel says in your ear, his beard grazing your cheek. Takes you three whole seconds to process that, and when you do, it tingles your core. Before you can answer, he continues, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze with flushing cheeks. You don’t know what to say, and maybe you don’t have to. You continue to be dumbfounded when Joel stops your motion and helps you to stand up.

“Hold on,” he says as he undoes the buttons of his jeans. “I need to take these off.”

He quickly kicks the jeans off his legs, revealing a dark gray boxer briefs under. A wet patch adorns the bulge right in the center. He then manspreads and gestures for you to come back onto him, to which you comply. “C’mere,” he says, “I need to feel you on me.”

You straddle him, positioning your cunt right on his cock, and on everybody and their mother, it feels good. No, it feels right. Joel lets out a groan that cuts into a gasp when you start to grind. “Fuck, yeah,” he grabs your ass, helping you settle on a rhythm.

The contour of Joel’s cock, albeit still covered by the fabric of his boxer briefs, touches every last nerve ending of your cunt in such a different way that his thigh did. You pick your pace up, getting the pleasure to build up again. 

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, voice quivering. You rake your fingers through his hair, your noses almost touching.

“Keep going, baby,” he says through a smile. “Don’t hold back. You sound so pretty.”

The encouragement is shooting up fireworks in your lower belly, and you start making more sounds. You’re close. So close.

“Makin’ me so hard all night, you,”

You whimper as you come, hips convulsing. Time slows down, and it feels like your cunt is pulled towards a strong gravitational force within your own body as you are sinking down a quicksand, all while pleasure forces your brain to reboot itself.

“That’s it, that’s it. There you go. You’re so good.”

Joel holds the back of your head while you’re laying on his chest, limp. When you pull yourself away from him, he presses a palm to your cheek, smiling. “Attagirl.”

When you finally gather yourself, you pull away from Joel, leaving a huge wet spot on where you just had your cunt on, and scoot to the spot next to him on the couch. You are about to lean onto his shoulder when he stands up and picks his jeans up from the floor. He sees the wet trail of arousal you left on the fabric in the thigh area and snickers.

“Damn, kid, you’re practically a snail,” he points to it. “Poor thing.”

You wince. “What are you doing?”

“Puttin’ my pants on?” he answers in the exact same tone, fixing the position of his boxer briefs.

“But you haven’t even come yet!” you protest. “What the fuck? Take them off!”

“That’s not what I agreed to, remember? I help you come so you’ll shut up and sleep. You’ve come, now shut up, and go to sleep.” he lays it out like basic math while you press the base of your palms onto your eyelids, confounded.

“You’re a sick person,” you shake your head, and then point to his crotch. “You’re literally still hard.”

“That has nothin’ to do with anythin’.”

You stare at the open space, like you’re trying to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. Can you believe this guy?

“Joel, your line is ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard.’ Now let’s start again from the top.”

Joel, who’s struggling trying to fit his bulge back in the jeans without hurting it, stops fussing with his button-fly shortly to push your head back—softly—to the couch. “Sleep,” he drags his palm over your face to close your eyelids.

“Joooooel,”

“Your line is ‘Yes, Joel, good night.’”

“Yes, Uncle Joel, good night, Uncle Joel,” you mock as you swiftly jump from the couch and pull his jeans down to his ankle and force him to step out of it. You hear Joel yelling hey, hey, hey as he tries to simultaneously fight you and not hurt you. You throw the pair of pants across the room with all your might and it lands with a loud thud.

“What are your pants made of, steel?”

“What is wrong with you?” he takes a step to fetch it, but you stand up and push him back to the couch. Joel is for sure going easy on you, because if he wanted to, he could definitely launch you through the walls. Instead, he just accepts his fate and stares at the ceiling, defeated.

“Nobody sleeps with jeans on, Joel,” you reach for the TV remote again. “Now let’s watch something again and then sleep.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again,” you repeat. “We’re watching SpongeBob.”

Joel groans.

“What, you don’t like SpongeBob?”

“Not my era,” Joel says. “I watched Gumby. Tom and Jerry. The Muppet Show.”

“No wonder you act like the heckling old guys.”

“I don’t, but, sure,”

“Oh, you’re more like the eagle. So serious all the time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You play the first episode of the first season of SpongeBob Squarepants, and the familiar intro begins. You take a look at Joel in the corner of your eyes, how he has one of his forearm on the top of his head, bicep almost as thick as his head. The other hand is resting on his thigh, and you can tell that he’s at least still half-hard. You wonder how he looks under those boxer briefs.

On the screen, Squidward and Mr. Krabs are climbing a post with a sea of raging anchovies under them. Joel’s lips slightly turn upward. Ha, eat that, Mr. Old Cartoon Head.

You shift so that you’re on your back, legs resting on Joel’s lap. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Minutes later, totally absorbed with SpongeBob pestering his neighbor with a reef blower, he has a hand on your ankle, caressing it without much thought.

They would have written about you in a Greek tragedy the way you’re consumed by greed and lust. When your toes stroke Joel’s bulge, totally by accident and not precalculated at all, you pretend like you’re captivated by the TV. It’s hard and you can definitely discern the ridge of possible veins and the head of his cock.

Joel exhales, sounding so done and tired.  “I know you were going to do this,”

But he doesn’t push you away. And that excites you.

You don’t say anything or look away from the screen, but you keep rubbing the outline of his cock, which is now more visible and grows slightly larger, with the space between your big and index toe. Your brain automatically puts the ice clinking in a vase while SpongeBob is getting dry under Sandy’s treedome as background noise to amplify Joel’s restrained grunts.

You like this. You like having Joel wrapped around your finger. Soon after, you withdraw your legs and sit up, causing him to open his eyes over the sudden halt.

You stare at him, bold. “Would you like my mouth?”

Joel nods.

You don’t even wait for a second. Joel helps you take off his boxer briefs, the length of his hard-on springs out like jack-in-the-box. You admire how it looks, how the tip is totally sticky and glistening, before lowering your tongue. Joal lets out a sound akin to a whimper as you let your saliva ooze down the underside of his cock and quickly retrieve it into your mouth using your tongue. He tastes slightly salty, like sweat. And if you could smell better you’d see how hypnotizing his scent is, like calling you to stick his cock down your throat until the world collapses.

“That’s it,” Joel says, out of breath. His cock is now grazing the soft wall of your cheek, and he wonders how experienced you actually are because you definitely don’t act like an amateur. You use one elbow to support yourself, the other one taking turns massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

The only downside of this is that Joel can’t really look at your face. He craves the sight of you, how your lips are wrapped around his cock, and how your cheek is bulging like a squirrel full of him. One of his hands crawls up your back under your shirt, rubbing it before it finds a new target: your breasts. He kneads on one, thumb flicking the bud. You can’t help but moan and take him deeper, sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

Joel knows he won’t last much longer, and he would very much like to keep this thing going as long as possible. So he asks you to stop, averting your disappointment by lifting up your shirt and sucking on one nipple. He’s surprisingly tender with it, taking his time. You reach a hand to his cock again, trying to at least get him off with your hand, but he pulls your wrists back and locks them on your sides.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck me. Please.”

“No can do,” Joel answers as his lips are trailing down to your stomach, where he peppers kisses all over. You scoot backwards and like reading your mind, he tugs the hem of your shorts down to your ankle before yanking it away, revealing your throbbing, desperate cunt. He then dives down, nose pressing against your mound as his tongue explores the new treasure island.

Just like in the movie.

You try to grab on something, anything, but the leather couch does nothing but squeaks, and Joel instinctively laces his fingers with yours. The view of the top of your head is exactly how you imagined it would be. The moans released from your lips are rather loud, especially when Joel creates a suction cup with his lips right on your clit.

“Joel, Joel,” you grasp his hands with all your might. “This is fucking unfair, I’m so— I’m gonna—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, your body already decides that it’s time for another release. Your heels are planted firmly against the couch as your hips lift to the air, and Joel lets go. He kneels before your cunt, pumps himself to oblivion and comes all over you before you get to collect yourself, staining your stomach and breasts. Later you’ll realize that the first spurt went a little bit rogue and landed on your hair.

“Fuck you, man,” you complain, sticking out a middle finger at him. “I was supposed to make you come.”

Joel rests his head on the couch armrest, eyes closed. “You did.”

“I meant technically,” you attempt to nudge him with your leg, but he dodges and stands up to grab the washcloth he used to compress you with earlier. He then wipes your stomach and breasts with it, the cold water making you squirm.

“What now?” you ask when he hands you your clothes.

“Sleep. It’s four in the mornin’.” he says as he puts his stained, sticky, wet boxer briefs on and sits on the recliner. So you can’t drive me mad anymore, he says.

You whine, but you realize that your eyelids are actually very heavy. “Blowjob first time in the morning?” you offer before letting yourself drift off.

“Thought you were s’pposed to be sick.” Joel shakes his head. But he grins.

a/n: Thank you for making it this far!!! ☺ I apologize if there are grammatical errors, misrepresented American school holiday system, and missing important tags/warnings (please let me know!)

[dorian-they]

and here’s a list from someone who’s made it thru more than 20 years of incapacitating suicidal depression:

- eat some food. I don’t care what it is. Eat it. Any food is better than no food. Preferably with some protein in it but idgaf. Food. Eat it.

- water. Drink it. Put it in a fucking mason jar or some other large container so you don’t have to get up and refill it. Use a fucking vase or tupperware or slurp it from a trough like a fuckin horse for all I care. Water. Large. Drink it.

- whenever you wake up, grab all the food/water you might wanna have for the whole day and put it wherever you’re setting up camp. Doing this when you have the most spoons available is crucial to steps 1 & 2

- pull-tab canned foods are your best friends. keep some cans & utensils by your bed for days when that’s your camp. Best options are gonna be fruits or veggies or protein, but again, any food is better than no food.

- put a toothbrush and/or floss within arm’s reach of your bed and/or wherever you usually set up camp when you’re awake. Scrub it around in your mouth whenever you remember to do it. If you have like $7 to spare, order some Parodontax active gum repair toothpaste online so you can continue eating food with the assistance of your teeth.

- take a daily multivitamin. Get the gummy kind if you want. Most multivitamins will get the job done but if you can spare the brain power to look at the ingredients just make sure it has several types of vitamin B (helps with depression). This will help your body feel less like microwaved shit and you’ll also feel less guilty about the types of food you’re able to get yourself to eat. Less guilty and less shit-feeling body are good. You can even order the vitamins online so you don’t have to remember to pick them up at the store or even leave your house

- do not guilt yourself about showering. Showering is a massive energy drain. Do it when you can, but that’s not the priority. Alive is the priority. Food, water, and having teeth to eat said-food with comes first. Aesthetics do not. If your body is smelly and it’s annoying you but not enough to shower about it, use a wet washcloth to wipe down the area or just slap on some deodorant and call it good. Dry shampoo is also a lifesaver if your hair gets oily

-if you’re not going out, wear the same comfy clothes every day. Or, if you can, just be naked, who cares. Decision fatigue is real and so is fabric sensitivity. Don’t overwork your brain with unnecessary shit. Again, not the priority.

- give yourself regular dopamine hits. watch a stupid video. eat a snack you like. play a few rounds of a cute mindless phone game. read a silly story. watch a show or movie or listen to a song you like, even just in the background. And yes, you still enjoy these things even though your brain hates everything rn. Go get your dopamine hits.

- and speaking of dopamine: if you aren’t sex repulsed, daily masturbation is basically self-serve serotonin and the happy chemicals still work even if you don’t get off so it’s worth it even if that’s a struggle. Plus if you do it before bedtime it can also help you fall asleep.

- lastly, if you manage to do any of these things in any way, shape, or form, take 2 seconds to literally congratulate yourself and/or physically pat yourself on the back/shoulder. Yes, I’m fucking serious. No I don’t care how small the task was. Say aloud or in your head “good job, [your name].” or if that feels too stupid just say “welp you didn’t wanna do that but you did it and now it’s done.” Just any way to acknowledge you did A Thing and now it is Done. Because unlike neurotypicals you have to coax your feral kitten of a brain into giving you happy chemicals after completing tasks. So congratulate yourself. Coax the cat.

if you managed to make it to the end of this, congrats on reading a long ass post about taking care of yourself. You didn’t have to read this, but you did, and now you’ve got some ideas about what might work for you or what won’t work for you. Good job, bud. I’m really glad you care about yourself enough that you took the time to read this

depression tips™

shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.

moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over. 

put on clean, comfortable clothes. 

put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.

drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink. 

blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something. 

make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.

go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.

cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.

[satkru]

੭* ‧₊° ichigo kurosaki x male reader

*๑♡՞ . rough sex , enemies to lovers , barely legal adults , little to no respect for one another during sex , raw sex , public sex

p.s . i have literally little to no idea how accurate my writing abt ichigo will be as i've really only watched the series until like ep 8-9(??) i'll probably pick it back up once i find the motivation to but rn im freeballing this 💔

ichigo and y/n had a rivalry known throughout the entirety of the whole school. a rivalry so bad that the administration of the school had to put them on two different floors with two different schedules in order for them to not engage with one another, otherwise it would end in an intense scrabble of sorts.

but that still didnt stop the two from sharing nasty glares at one another from time to time, no one really knew how they started such a rival-ship, but some just say that they stepped on the wrong foot and never recovered from it.

the true reason for such an intense relationship is that they both had an eye for the lovely lady known as Orihime. Her gorgeous orange eyes paired with her flowy ginger hair was a match made in heaven. Both of them could not keep their eyes off of that girl.

but one faithful day, after school had ended and the halls were empty. the two were set up to clean the rooms, with a teacher on the scene of course. Each time they came close to the others proximity, it was like watching two territorial dogs growling at each other, waiting for the other to strike.

but that strike never came as long as the professor was around. Eventually, the period of peace had to come to an end, as the teacher exclaimed they needed to use the restroom. "dont you two dare lay a hand on each other while im gone, or else you two are suspended for the rest of the year", the words burned into the nerves of the two.

"so, do you still like orihime" y/n asked as he swept the remaining dust on the floor, "why is that any of your business" ichigo spat out, a hint of anger laced his tone. "just wondering, you know. she has been looking at me twice now".

ichigo gripped onto the handle of his own broom, trying to contain his anger. "shes been getting quite.. close, to me" y/n said with a chuckle, he knew what he was doing was ticking off his rival, but the sensation of pissing someone off just called to him.

"she asked me to go to her house today, but dont worry, i'll make sure to save some space for you" kurosaki couldnt hold his jealously anymore, although he knew y/n was bluffing, the thought of him with his crush agitated him. and with that, he found himself throwing the broom across the room, almost hitting y/n in the process.

the man grinned, an annoying feature ichigo had always hated whenever he and y/n got into disputes. "uh oh, did i make sweet kurosaki angryy" y/n said with fake innocence in his voice, pouting his lip and laying a finger on his chin to enhance his "sweetness".

"shut your mouth already" kurosaki growled, his hands clenched into fists as he watched y/n continue to piss him off. "you'll never be with such a girl, soon enough, she'll be begging for me and my dick soon, her pussy will remember the shape of me and make enough room to fit me. she'll never think of you again after i go over to her house."

each word out of y/n's mouth pissed ichigo more off than before, his eyes were glued to the floor to not meet eyes, otherwise, the situation would get out of hand. the teasing man began walking towards kurosaki, his face still in an annoyingly smug expression.

"c'mon kurosaki, look at me, remember my face for the rest of your goddamn life. remember that i'll be the one taking care of who you thought was going to be your future wife." ichigo couldnt take the amount of disrespect he was experiencing, causing him to throw an unexpected punch towards y/n, making him fall to the floor with blood dripping from his nose.

although it was sudden, y/n expected such a reaction, this was all apart of his plan of course. ichigo reached down and grabbed y/n by the throat and pulled him up so they could be eye to eye. "you fucking bitch, youre getting me all riled up for what? huh? do you get off of this?" y/n chuckled dryly, "and what if i do?". such a response threw ichigo off guard, causing him to receive a heavy punch to his cheek.

"dont tell me youre gonna kink shame me, kuro" ichigo steadily hoisted himself up with the help of the desks, his breath more heavy than before. "god do you ever stop talking" the ginger haired man whispered under his breath, barely audible but still loud enough to be caught by y/n's hearing. "dont be so mean ichi-" before he could finish his sentence, kurosaki lunged forward and managed to grab a hold of y/n's hair, twisting his hair enough and slamming his face into the desk.

"i can see you've gotten a bit more intelligent when it comes to fighting now, is that black haired girl training you?" kurosaki froze, how the fuck did he know about rukia? ichigo tumbled over his words, trying to make up excuses and babbling on about stories that made no sense. "you know, there is a way to keep me from outing you" y/n said, his voice drenched in hunger and lust. the ginger sneered, "oh fuck it"

and with that, ichigo hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his boxers down. leaving no room for hesitance, "god, all of your teasing has made me rock fucking solid.." kurosaki said as he watched his own cock puylse and twitch. y/n hummed as he too began to undress his lower half, slipping ichigo's hard on between his ass.

"i cant take anymore of your games" ichigo growled as he then thrusted himself into his once rival, earning a loud moan from him. each thrust was ravenous, filled to the brim with both anger and frustration. "youre so tight.." kurosaki groaned, his hand intangled with y/n's hair strand then sharply pulled back, earning another ear piercing moan.

"yes..! just like that ichigo! fuck me harder!!" y/n screamed as he reached back to spread his ass more, helping ichigo's long and hard cock reach more places y/n didn't even think could be reached. both kurosaki's and y/n's loud and lustful noises could be heard throughout the entirety of the hallway.

"you never were actually after orihime were you.. fuck.. you were after me" ichigo said with a strained voice, his time was ticking and he knew it. y/n's obnoxiously loud noises never quieted down, instead, they grew louder, more hungry for action. "use me ichigo! use me as if im your sweet orihime! fuck my ass as if its her pussy!" y/n yelled on the top of his lungs, his body was becoming heavier and sweat drenched him entirely.

"im cumming..! goddamn your tight ass feels too good!" kurosaki exclaimed as his grip on y/n's hip grew tighter, and his hand incased in the locks of his rival began to waver in strength. "youre going to take my cum.. like the slut you are. do you hear me?" y/n eagerly nodded, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to untie.

with a few more ass-reddening thrusts, ichigo's load quickly filled y/n's hole, traveling deep through his guts. as ichigo was dumping his cum into y/n's ass, the once smug and arrogant man was at his own witts end. spreading his own cum across the desk in front of him and crying out in pure bliss.

the two men stood in silence, the only thing heard being heavy breathing and the squelching of cum escaping y/n's ass. "dont think.. that im done with you yet y/n.. meet me at my house tonight, 10pm sharp.. got it?" ichigo said between huffs. "got it..!" y/n said with cheerfulness in his tone. he'd finally gotten what he was hoping more, good for him.

[collaredsoldat]

Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Mentions of past SA | Flashbacks of SA | Flashbacks of torture | Vulgar language | Hints to ED due to trauma

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Вы будете голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сделаю лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar

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[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.]

A Christmas baby

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

Fluff jealousy childbirth angst

“Please come tonight, I really want to see you” Sarah spoke on the other end of the phone. You sighed brushing your hand over your nine month belly, the last thing you wanted to do was attend Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

You knew how much Sarah cared for you and how much she wanted you to be there but after having broken up with Joel just two months prior, it felt strange.

“My dad misses you” she spoke softly.

“I don’t know Sarah, there’s a lot-“

“Please just think about it, it’s Christmas. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

How were you suppose to resist? Besides Tommy inviting most of the neighbors and having nosey eyes on you, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

Since breaking up with Joel, you had seen him twice. You remembered coming out of your OB appointment and Joel sitting at the bottom step outside waiting for you. You hadn’t expected to see him there, especially being that he never made it to any appointments, constantly over booking himself at work. You remembered the arguments the two of you would have, sometimes you felt he overbooked himself on purpose to not deal with anything that had to do with the baby.

Maybe he had cold feet you thought, whatever it was it didn’t go well mixed with your hormones, your sensitivity at an all time high.

When you moved in with your sister Abby, Joel constantly called her to make sure you were ok. Every night you’d hear your sister on the phone repeating the same things over and over.

“She’s ok”

“I swear I’ll call you if anything”

“No shes not lifting anything heavy, Joel”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but crack a smile, Joel was always invested in making sure you had everything you needed but what you wanted more was his time.

Pulling up in front Joel’s house you could see the guests from the front window. A part of you second guessing what you were doing there, almost tempted to turn back. Then there it was again, a slow pain that kept coming and going from your lower back. This must be what Braxton hicks contraction’s were as the doctor had explained a week piror.

“You made it!” You suddenly heard from outside your car. One of the neighbors, Tilly spotted you just as she was about to go inside with her older brother Jim. Jim was a good friend of Tommy’s, Joel never seemed to be a fan of his, you never knew why.

“Guess I can’t escape now” you whispered to yourself before opening your car door.

“Here, let me give you a hand” Jim gave you his arm as you stepped out the car.

“You look amazing” Jim uttered low as you grabbed onto him. Not expecting his compliment you smiled.

“Thanks”

“That red dress looks great on you” Tilly exclaimed.

“Joel’s gonna be so happy to see you” she chuckled.

Anxiously walking to the front door, you stopped at the steps to adjust your dress.

“Don’t worry Jim won’t let you fall” Tilly whispered, excitement in her voice for her favorite day of the year. Just as you began to walk up the steps the front door opened, to your surprise Joel stepped out. Caught off guard he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, not expecting you to show up, much less holding onto Jim. You watched his eyes immediately turn to him, a stern look he couldn’t hide until Tilly’s high pitched voice distracted him.

“Joel! So good to see you!” He looked to her and gave her a nod, you could still see the disapproval he felt.

“Tommy’s makin’ drinks, ya got here just in time”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice” Jim made his way up the stairs with you before you thanked him and held your hands together awkwardly. Taking a quick glance at Joel you noticed him looking at you but you didn’t say a word, neither did he, until you were alone.

“I’ve been callin’ you” he stood against the door, cheers and laughter could be heard in the background.

“Abby told me” you spoke softly. His tongue sliding against his inner cheek, there was so much more he wanted to say, you could see it.

“How have you been feelin’?

His question making you finally look up directly at him. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, the one he knew you loved.

“Um-it’s getting harder to walk in certain shoes now” you chuckled showing off that you wore flip flops with your dress. Joel smiled, something he hadn’t done much of since you left.

“Oh my gosh you came!” Sarah’s voice made you both turn her way.

“Hey Sarah,” you smiled.

“Oh my- that red dress is so cute on your baby bump” she grinned with excitement.

“Thank you” you smiled brushing your hand over your bump making Joel’s eyes soften as he looked at you.

“Oh uh- I’m sorry for interrupting dad. I just-“

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m glad to see you excited” he assured her.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind I really need to use the restroom. I’m going every ten minutes now” you laughed before quickly and awkwardly excusing yourself to the back.

Coming out of the bathroom you gave Sarah your sweater and purse as you looked around the room to all the guests there, you honestly didn’t know where to put yourself.

“Look at you, I’m glad you showed up!” Tommy approached you with a Santa hat and beer in hand.

“How are you feelin’?” Tommy asked as Joel appeared beside him.

“Well my ankles are killing me, my back feels on fire, she’s constantly kicking me“ you chuckled.

“but other than that I’m fine” you sighed.

“Aw she’s just excited to meet her uncle” Tommy laughed as he leaned towards your belly.

“Ain’t that right lil’ niece?”

“Tommy” Joel uttered giving him a side eye.

“What? Just a few more weeks till we meet, I’m excited” he took a sip from his beer before being pulled away to dance. Joel and you stood beside each other, his arms crossed as he laughed at his brother before looking over at you.

“How about we get you a seat,”

“Um, it’s fine, I’d rather stay here plus all the seats are taken”

“So, I’ll get somebody up” Joel looked back at the full room quickly eyeing who he’d get the seat from.

“No, no it’s fine” as much as your ankles hurt, you’d rather have stayed away from everyone asking you dozens of questions.

“You wanna lay down in our room for a bit?” His question catching you off guard.

Our room.

“Thanks, Joel. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some water though, I am thirsty”

He nodded, his eyes remained on you longer than he meant to, drifting down to your dress laying perfectly over your baby bump.

“You look beautiful by the way”

Your heart skipping a beat from his words, you looked over at him.

“Thank you” you whispered before he walked into the kitchen.

Soon you noticed Mary and Lisa heading your way, two of the most nosiest neighbors you had dying to ask questions the moment you walked in. Those two women never seemed to know when to stop talking. Quickly turning towards the kitchen you walked off doing your best to avoid them when you heard a woman laughing in the kitchen. Silently stopping at the doorway you saw Maria with Joel, she was known for many things with men around the area, especially married men. Her hand on Joel’s shoulder as he held your glass of water in hand, you felt a jealousy you had never felt before.

“If it wasn’t for you driving me home that night, who knows where I would’ve ended up” she laughed as your heart sunk. It couldn’t be, Joel spent a night with Maria? Although you and Joel weren’t together, it was crushing to hear.

“Maybe you can drive me home tonight again…?” She spoke with a flirtatious voice as her hand creeped to back of his neck when you accidentally knocked something down beside you. Both of them quickly looking up, Joel realized you had heard everything but before he could say a word you quickly walked out rushing to grab your belongings from down the hall. Joel quickly put the glass down and pushed past Maria following you out as your heart raced with disbelief and hurt.

“Sarah where’s my stuff?” Your voice cracked as she looked up at you confused.

“In the room, are you okay?” You couldn’t respond rushing toward the bedroom as Joel quickly followed behind calling your name.

“It ain’t what you think-“ Joel appeared at the doorway slightly out of breath as you grabbed your sweater.

“Hey, hey-listen to me, baby” he rushed towards you trying to get you to understand him, desperation in his eyes, his hand attempted to grab your face.

“Don’t!” You screamed, tears building up in your eyes.

“The neighborhood whore huh?”

“No, dammit, listen to me!”

“No, you would-“ you suddenly stopped speaking as a sharp cramping like sensation took over you. Leaning forward you winced grabbing your belly, Joels expression instantly changing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He whispered, his hand reaching for your belly just as the wave of pain passed.

“Don’t” you shoved his hand away and took a deep breath. Getting yourself together you put your sweater on and grabbed your purse. Trying to walk past him he blocked your way, a look of concern he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave like this”

“Like hell you’re not!” You screamed, the music and the guests so loud nobody could hear you arguing.

“You can go continue your fun-“

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

“Too late for that” you aggressively put on your sweater.

“I didn’t do nothin’ with her! She was with Tommy, he passed out drunk in the car I was the only sober one so I drove. She got out the car went home and that was it, nothin’ happened between me and her”

“I don’t believe you” you shook your head as a tear fell from your eyes. You attempted to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“I ain’t lettin’ you drive like this-“

“What the hell do you care?! Go talk with Maria since obviously you have time for her but not our baby-“

“You know damn well that’s not true” he grabbed your wrists stopping you from pushing him aside.

“Let go of me!” You pulled your arms back just as another wave of pain took over. Quickly turning away you leaned against the wall.

“Ow-“ you cried out. The pain more intense than you had been feeling earlier.

Joel quickly coming behind you making sure you were okay, his hands on your waist.

“Come sit down”

“No, no…it’ll go away like it did earlier” you whispered in between breaths.

“What do you mean earlier?”

You stood silent as you slowly turned to him.

“What do you mean earlier?” He repeated himself sternly.

“It’s Braxton hicks, I had felt them last week and the doctor told me it was normal. I’m not dilated-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell!” You winced again from yet another wave of pain.

“I don’t think these are Braxton hicks, you’re getting them to close together, you’re having contractions“

“No I am not. Just leave me alone” you squeezed your eyes shut unable to speak.

“Stop being so damn stubborn, we’re gettin’ you to a hospital”

“No!” You whispered with a gasp just as Sarah ran in.

“Oh my god-“

“Sarah, tell uncle Tommy we’re goin’ to the hospital” he called out to her.

“Is she-“

“Yes” his voice somehow calm as he had you hold onto him.

“Oh my g- it’s getting worse” you whimpered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get in the truck now” he caressed your face.

“Is this actually happening right now” you whispered to yourself.

“I think so, baby”

Tommy ran to the truck with his Santa hat still on, opening the doors for you and Joel as the guests all watched on in shock.

“I don’t have my bag! My bag, Joel!”

“I’ll tell your sister to bring it” he buckled your seatbelt and closed the door rushing to the other side. Everyone watched as Joel sped off, each contraction becoming more intense you screamed in agony as Joel kept beeping the horn. If you weren’t so distracted with the pain you felt you would’ve seen how desperate Joel became with each sound you made.

“We’re here, baby. We’re here” the tires screeched as he made a hard turn into the lot.

Everything happened so fast, next thing you knew you were on the hospital bed being instructed to push. Joel holding your leg up, you cried feeling as if you couldn’t get through this.

“I can’t-“ you shook your head as Joel stood beside you, gently turning your head to face him.

“Look at me, yes you can. I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ no where, count with me” Joel began to instruct you with breathing and counting as the doctor prepped for the arrival of your baby.

After all the pain and chaos that occurred, it was all worth it. After the end of it all, you had fallen asleep and awoke to Joel humming Silent Night. Still feeling weak, you turned to see him looking out the window as it snowed. You smiled just as he turned and caught your eyes on him.

“I think she likes this song” he whispered making you laugh.

“You read the book” you spoke softly as he looked at you confused.

“The book I gave you about dads during birth”

He smiled with a nod.

“How else would I had known how to help you breathe through all that pushin’” turns out he listened much more than you thought he did.

“Mhm” your eyes began to uncontrollably close, you were exhausted.

“Get your rest, baby. I got her” without a word you quickly fell back to sleep as Joel looked down at his daughter with tearful eyes.

“The best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given” he kissed her forehead and continued humming the song..

Tags

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@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[legendofmoriad]

Master Zargo was only the first. Three days later, Shadowslice stepped out of the darkness behind the refrigerator. "I believe you have a meal with my name on it." I silently handed her a customer's order. I'd replace it, and the Mistress of the Unseen Strike wasn't one to anger. She eyed it carefully, before taking a small bite. "Acceptable. Could use a sharper cheddar." She stepped back into shadow, the sandwich disappearing with her. At the end of the day, the till came up exactly $8.25 over, the exact price of her stolen sandwich. I added sharp cheddar to the shopping list.

You own a sandwich shop in the heart of a superhero city. After gaining customers by making sandwiches based on heroes, you decided to try making some based on villains. Today, a villain stopped to review theirs.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

MUNCHIES!

Summary: Your neighbor, Kelvin, invites you to the fair. After a night of fun you end up in his apartment.

Warnings: Warnings: Short, Smut, Humor, Neighbors.

Part Two

Kelvin had just finished a day of work that started as early as 5 am. Finally home, he made his way towards his bedroom to undress, only an hour to prepare before he went over to pick up his date.

Standing in front of his wall length mirror, he secured a black durag around his head and flexed some muscles, pleased with his physique. Staring at his reflection with a pair of grey joggers on and white socks, he grabbed his cell phone to take a few pictures.

One grabbing his crotch.

One biting his lip.

And lastly one with a big smile.

He made his way into his messy bedroom littered with clothes and shoes, most of it being designer items sent to him as care packages. He was grateful, but he only had but so much space to put everything. His guest bedroom already turned into another storage area for clothes and shoes.

One habit he couldn’t shake.

Kelvin turned on his shower and quickly undressed the rest of the way. He stepped inside of his shower and started his routine of cleaning, exfoliating, and moisturizing. Warm. Enveloping. Grounded. Engulfed in a wash of amber, a hit of Australian sandalwood, cedar, vetiver; a gentle wave of cardamom. As he smoothed the scrub along his arms, he noticed a scratch there and it brought a smile to his face.

Y/N had scratched him accidentally when they’d been playing around in her apartment last night. The minute his thoughts drifted to her as he stood beneath the filtered shower water, his dick chubbed up immediately and bounced between his legs.

The things he wanted to do to Y/N.

The things he could have done to her last night had he stuck around. She would have been fucked on every surface and that pussy slurped in all sorts of contortions fucking around with him. The Cookie Monster shorts told him all he needed to know. And he was high as a kite too. When he’s high he turns into a super munch and it can’t be tamed. He had to pat himself on the back for behaving.

She had the body that’ll have you busting a premature nut. All those times she’d bent over last night…

He imagined forcing her against the cold counter top while he got down on his knees to suck that pussy from behind—

“Shit,” Kelvin looked down at his dick, “Maybe a quick nut wouldn’t hurt.”

He’d been so pent up lately. No proper release. Kelvin added more soap to his hands for extra slip. He pressed his back against the tile wall and fucked up into his hand nice and slow. Wet balls collided with the back of his hand, soap suds flying onto the glass shower door. Wet, squelching noises were deafening. That pretty, brown dick with a pink tip glistened in his soft hand, slit drooling precum to prepare him for a big eruption.

He’d started taking Maca Root regularly like Aaron suggested and the change in eating habits and vitamins had his libido at an all time high. No wonder he’d overheard his friend in their conjoined hotel room releasing several nuts. He joked him about it but now he understood. Heavy balls and a high sex drive did not mix well if there weren’t releases often.

“FUCK!”

Kelvin pumped faster, bottom lip pouted and eyes crossing. He imagined Y/N’s dainty hand milking him with her tongue on his nipples. Titties rubbing against his chest with the slickness of soap and water. Talking nasty in his face with all that bratty energy.

“Damn, daddy…this big dick wanna cum for me?”

“I bet you wish that cum was in my pussy…”

“If you cum for me I’ll let you eat my pussy all night…”

“I love stroking this big dick.”

“Y/N! Y/N!”

His load spurted out from his tip like an overflowing spout. His hips stuttered out of control. He had to plant his feet firm against the shower floor to prevent from slipping. His stomach caved in the more his ejaculate released from his tight nuts. The steam made his skin more sensitive as he touched his chest.

He opened his eyes and swiped his lips with his tongue. If she could make him cum like that without even fucking her or tasting her, Kelvin didn’t know what to expect when he finally got her.

He rinsed off and made sure his cum had gone down the drain before exiting the shower. As he towel dried his body, his phone buzzed. He entered his room and grabbed his phone from the charger, checking to see who had texted him.

Y/N: Hey, are we still going to the fair? Just checking because it’s almost three.

Kelvin had thirty minutes to prepare. He shot you a quick text before tossing his phone on his bed.

Kelvin: Hey! We’re definitely still going. Just ran a little behind schedule. Let me throw something on and I’ll be over.

Kelvin applied some lotion to his smooth skin and then a white tank top, an olive green Supreme hoodie with a floral design on the back, and denim joggers with all white Nike Dunks. He spritz some cologne on his pulse points and then removed his durag, grabbing a brush to smooth out the deep waves in his hair.

Grabbing his essentials, he exited his apartment, eyes on your text thread.

Y/N: You know I had to lite one up real quick. You better hurry before I smoke this thing down 😂

Kelvin knocked on your door and you opened it ten seconds later. He was instantly hit with a harmonious blend of relaxation and euphoria. Kelvin fixated his brown eyes on the blunt between your fingers, itching to snatch it. You draw your hand back with a giggle, causing his gaze to track a path down your body.

You wore an oversized flannel top with a body—hugging heather gray dress that gripped your hips and thighs tightly. On your feet are a pair of knee high, black converse. Your hair is styled in a braidout and gold jewelry decorated your ears, neck, and fingers. Even with casual attire you ruined him in the best way.

“Hello to you too, Kelvin!” You say with a role of your eyes.

Kelvin gave you an animated look while trying to convey his words with his hands, further annoying you.

“I’m about to close my door in your face if you don’t greet me the proper way.” You sass.

He couldn’t help but bend over and grab his knees as he laughed. Your cute voice and the fake anger you displayed humored him.

Kelvin sat up straighter and licked his lips, “Hey, sexy.”

The way your eyes went round, that told him he’d caught you off guard and that pleased him, his smile with slight dimples growing wider.

“Why are you shocked? It’s the truth,” Kelvin pressed forward, making a ‘grabby’ motion with his fingers, “Now gimmie.”

You didn’t have time to catch up to your motor skills before he stole your blunt and took a puff. As your eyes remained glued to him, he savored the hybrid strain as if he were floating on clouds.

“Wedding Cake?” Kelvin spoke as smoke billowed from his moist, pink lips.

You simply nod your head with a hint of a smile.

“Good shit, sexy…good shit…”

He handed you the blunt. You blink twice to focus before turning to enter your apartment. It was almost three, five minutes to spare.

“C’mon so we can get a good spot!” Kelvin shouted after you.

You reappear with a shoulder bag and your keys. Kelvin gave you some space to lock your door, although he’d leaned in to catch a whiff of your perfume.

Kayali Pistachio.

You turn and Kelvin interlocked his fingers with yours. You give him a look and then a toothy smile like a lovesick woman. He loved catching you off guard.

——

Kelvin found a decent parking spot closer to the entrance. Majority of the younger crowd were leaving with their exhausted parents. At the booth, he displayed his two tickets and both of you received wrist bands to ride unlimited and without having to wait in line. Finally inside, Kelvin held out his hand for you to grasp, the sensation of your soft skin sending a pleasant feeling throughout his chest.

The place is alive with booming music, exhilarated screams, delighted squeals and cheerful shouts. Colossal, gyrating rides with vibrant, pulsating lights towered over the excited visitors. A roller coaster spirals and coils, which makes it look like an elongated snake twisting through the fair. The air is filled with the mouth-watering aromas of sizzling hot-dogs, fluffy cotton candy, spiced apples and sugary donuts. Some stalls sell hamburgers oozing with burnt onions; others sell sweet treats of funnel cakes and deep fried Oreos.

Kelvin stole a glance at you as your eyes that shined bright from the many spectrums of colors danced around. There was so much to do, he wasn’t sure where to start first. Definitely nothing that involved rapid spinning. For you, no drop towers. You bright smile made him grin from ear to ear, displaying pearly whites.

“I want to do the boat ride.” You said.

Kelvin followed your finger. The captain ship that rocked back and forth like a pendulum. He didn’t mind that.

“Let’s go,” Kelvin led the way with your hand in his, “We got the wrist bands to jump the line too!”

The conductor for the ride stopped you both but Kelvin showed him your bands and they let you through. Groans and agitated whispers caused both of you to giggle.

“Where do you like to sit—oh.”

You take a seat all the way in the back. The last row.

“Why do you want to sit back here?” Kelvin questioned with a whiny voice as he settled next to you, “The middle is the best.”

The setting sun caused the brown of your skin to glow. Kelvin narrowed his eyes at you playfully.

“The middle is for punks. Maybe I should start calling you that, huh?” You joked.

“First one to scream is the real punk.” Kelvin declared.

You give him a mischievous smile, accepting the challenge.

The ride started off slow, Kelvin grabbing your hand in anticipation. You both share glances at the sudden drop in your stomach when you reach a new high. The boat whipped forward, causing you to grab Kelvin’s wrist tight. A slight squeal escaped your lips when the boat went back, bringing both of you high in the air. Kelvin squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth while you screamed like a banshee. Both of you laugh hysterically as the ride swayed to a stop.

“Like is said, a PUNK!” Kelvin pointed to you and chuckled while you gave him slaps to his arm.

“I can’t help it! Still not a punk though.”

You both take your time exiting the ride, Kelvin turning to pick you up at the waist, bringing you to your feet gently. You thank him with a pretty smile and reached for his hand. Swinging arms, they head towards a rollercoaster.

Your hair had puffed up from the humidity and it gave you a wild look that drove Kelvin crazy. Anything about you from the beauty mark on your face to the snorting laughs you do made him like you more and more.

“You still look sexy as fuck with messy hair.”

You tucked your chin bashfully, "Thank you handsome."

Kelvin tugged you closer to him, wrapping a hand around your waist. His hand rubbed against your hip and if it wasn't for being in public, Kelvin would have slipped a hand beneath your dress to see if you had any underwear on.

"If you wanna touch my ass, just do it."

You were being bold. Kelvin looked at you before using the hand on your hip to lift the back of your shirt. You laugh as his fingers grip juicy flesh before slapping it a few times.

"Double-cheeked up for real." Kelvin said between laughs.

You both were able to get on and after securing the seatbelts, the operator gave everyone a thumbs up and the cart took off.

The ride began to ascend.

“I always scream on roller coasters even when I love them.”

“It’s cool,” Kelvin's hands gripped the bar.

“We’re almost there,” Kelvin speaks in a soft tone, making you crave him more. Your eyes locked and right before you went down, you put your arms up. You gasped softly, hands coming out in front of you to firmly grasp the bars before the feeling of falling overcame your body.

Kelvin laughed and hollered while everyone else around him screamed through the thrill. Your hair whipped across your face with every turn, Kelvin watching you with a big handsome smile. Another drop came, causing you to squeal a little while your body leaned into him. Kelvin never felt this charged in his life. Your laughs and gasps of pleasure against his neck. Kelvin turns his head, your good smelling hair in his face while your lips connected.

The ride began to slow down and your thighs tightening around Kelvin's hand that came down to grip your thigh. Kelvin reluctantly pulls his hand away, causing you to whimper. He licks his lips clean of your gloss before helping you out of the cart and adjusting your dress. long curly hair all over your head, you looked adorable and freshly fucked. Kelvin smooths your hair out of your face before giving you another kiss.

As both of you walked past a few games, Kelvin pointed out a game booth with bottles and bean bags to knock them down. It was only necessary to win you a stuffed animal. It's sort of a ritual for carnival dates. Kelvin pulled you along, a short, brown-skinned girl with shoulder length locs waving both of you over.

“Knock these bottles down to win a big stuffed animal!”

Kelvin accepted his bean bags, rolling up the sleeves to his hoodie before looking down at you with a wink. You gave Kelvin a hug around his waist before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Win me a big Yoshi and I'm all yours..."

How was Kelvin supposed to concentrate now after those seductive words. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his dick ached with anticipation.

"You ready?!" The girl that hosted to gaming booth shouted.

“Yeah!”

Kelvin tosses the first bean bag, missing the bottles entirely “Hold on, hold on! that was a trial.”

“Kelvin, there ain't no trials!” You yell with a giggle while watching him make another toss “Kel! aim!”

“If you don't hush!" Kelvin tossed the third bean bag higher, knocking down the top bottle, "SEE! now what?!"

“Still got five more left.” You said.

Kelvin tosses another bean bag, the Game Worker unimpressed with his skills since most people miss. He pauses, looking down at you with his brown eyes that made her melt, “Can I still have all of you? I give good kisses.”

You blush with a bite of your lower lip, “If you win me that Yoshi I’ll give you a secret kiss in the tunnel of love.”

“How about a secret touch too? Can a nigga get that?”

You rolls your eyes with a pretty smile, “Depends on what this touch is.”

“Hmmm,” Kelvin squints his eyes with a dimpled smile, “You just gotta wait and see what these hands can do. They had you squirming with just a cuff of that ass.”

“Stopppp,” you whisper.

Kelvin prayed over the last bean bag before tossing it, knocking down the rest. He was more excited than you with his jumping and cheering. You gave him a high five with a big smile.

“Wow!” The Game Worker who’s name tag read Kim claps, "Guess that Yoshi is all yours!"

“YAY!” You spoke excitedly while watching Kelvin accept a pink Yoshi.

You continue to squeal, jumping up and down before giving Kelvin a one arm hug.

"Uh-uh. Where's my kiss?"

You shook your head with a giggle, bringing one hand around to the back of Kelvin's neck, bringing him closer. Kelvin shut his eyes and grunted when his lips finally touched yours. Soft. Sugary. Skillful. Kelvin almost dropped the Yoshi when you'd slipped him some tongue. Things were turning up the more you kissed. You finally pushed at Kelvin's chest to stop him from sucking on your neck openly.

You licked your lips, "Okay, Cassonova. calm down."

"Seriously? Seriously? after you just kissed me like that?"

You turned your back towards him, Kelvin stretched his arms out with an astonished expression.

"You play too much!" Kelvin said.

"Look who's talking!" You replied.

The remainder of your time at the fair, you ate junk, took pics in a photobooth, rode the ferris wheel, bumper cars, and even tried the tunnel of love even though it broke down on them halfway through.

——

“Kelvin. What is it with you and this art?”

You pace his living room, blunt in hand and eyes taking in the symbolic photographs in a collage on his wall.

Kelvin slid over to you on his hardwood floor and you laugh at his silliness.

“I am OBSESSED with it…the female body is art.”

He put on a poetic voice, whispering in your ear.

“Oh, but the pussy is brave…lest we forget…how much pain the pussy can take…how much pleasure it delivers,” he laughed softly in your ear while you giggled, “Unto itself and others. Remember how it spit you out without a flinch. Now here you are! Using the word pussy like an insult when you’re not even strong enough to be one.”

“WOW,” you turn to look him directly in the eye, “That was impressive.”

“Rupi Kaur.” Kelvin shrugged.

He took the blunt from your hand and put it between his lips, eyes still staring you down hungrily.

“I had a great time today. Thanks for making it happen. You could have asked out any other girl and you chose me. Your chaotic neighbor.”

“I love chaotic. It’s my specialty,” Kelvin replied with a smile, “On a serious note, yeah…I could if I wanted…but I like you. I like everything about you. And I want you. We wouldn’t be here…surrounded by my art and sharing a blunt…and I’m sure arousal…if I didn’t.”

Kelvin placed the blunt between your lips and as you smoke, he played with your ass.

His voice was all raspy and dangerous, “I wanna play.”

“Play how?” You tugged at his gold chain.

Kelvin started kissing along your neck, causing you to flinch from how it tickled.

“STAWWWWP!”

“I like the way you sound when you giggle and tell me to stop,” Kelvin picked you up, your legs straddling him, a streak escaping your mouth.

You’re just so...soft. So soft to him.

“How many licks…until I get…”

Before you know it, you’re in his bedroom. How many licks? Kelvin placed you on his bed while he takes off his hoodie. You instantly feel your clit jump.

“I like the sound of this game.” You finally said.

“I bet you do. And I’m high too. My favorite thing to snack on when I have the munchies.”

Fuck.

You don’t waste time taking off your flannel shirt, tossing it on the floor. You already have your shoes off. Kelvin watched you lay back against his bed with that dress on and a hand between your legs with your knees drawn to your chest. He arched a brow at you.

“No panties?! What a nasty girl!” Kelvin said.

“Figured I’d make it easy for you.”

“Oh, so you just knew what was going to happen, huh?”

Kelvin took off his tank top, shirtless with a six pack. Your eyes swept over his frame with a nibble of your bottom lip. He settled at the foot of the bed, staring down between your legs with his tongue slowly swiping his top lip.

“Move your hand.” Kelvin commanded.

“Gotta say the magic words first!”

“Open sesame!”

Kelvin waved his hands in front of his like he was conjuring magic. You roll over onto your side in a fit of laughter.

“Aight, spread your legs, Y/N! I’m drooling!” Kelvin begged.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

You open your legs side to side but your hand remained over your pussy. Kelvin sucked his teeth and then he crawled onto the bed.

“So, I gotta move your hand myself? I wanna see it,” Kelvin reached for your hand but you scoot towards the head of his bed, “Y/N! I’m tryna eat!”

“Kelvin! Ah!”

Kelvin wrestled with you, both of you rolling around on his bed. You were on top of him, hands together as you try to overpower him. Kelvin let go of your hands and quickly lifted your dress, peeking under and you try to climb off of him but he successfully flipped you onto your back.

“As much as I love to reenact WWE, I need my entire mouth on your pussy…respectfully…now.”

Your chest heaved up and down and your nipples instantly stiffen from his words. Mingled breaths and locked eyes. Kelvin stared at your lips.

“Please?” He lowered his face and started kissing along your jaw, “I wanna make you feel good, baby…”

You scrunch your brows and moan.

“Okay. Be my munch.” You say barely above a whisper.

Kelvin chuckled.

“Gladly.”

You both stare at each other for a while until Kelvin’s hand lifts your dress around your waist. You follow his gaze between your legs. He pushed your thighs so that your knees touched your chest.

“Ugh, fuck, you got the pinkest, wettest pussy I’ve had the pleasure of staring at.”

Your lower lip quivered.

His lips gave you open mouthed kisses on your phat pussy lips and inward. Any part of you his lips would wrap around and lightly suck. You watch him keep your legs open with his hands and the sight of his fine ass with that pink tongue and those pink lips eating you up had you eager to cum in his mouth.

“Yes, mmm, eat that phat pussy, yes, baby,” You encourage Kelvin to go harder. Kelvin scrunched his brows, eyes closed as he licked your juicy slit in long strokes. Deep pressured strokes. He had that pussy wide open while giving you everything you deserved. You started rocking your hips, feeding that tongue, moving your hips in tune with his licks. 

“Kelvin, oh my gosh,” You place a hand on top of his waves, “Yes…mmm…I love those lips.”

Kelvin smiled and used those lips to suck on your clit. You throw your head back from the sensation, the blunt sat discarded on a table, no longer needed. You sat up on your elbows when he added two fingers. This man could finger pussy too? You were unable to control your moans. He would look up at you with a smug expression and a mouth full of pussy.

This was the hardest your clit has ever been from head. This was the most turned on and wet you’d ever been from head. You push at Kelvin’s forehead and he grabbed your wrist. His lips and his tongue was sending you into bliss and you could feel yourself preparing to cum.

“Mm, mm, keep still,” Kelvin stroked your spot and he looked at your with low eyes, “What I tell you to do?”

“It feels so good,” You reply with a weak voice, thighs shaking.

“Then why stop me if it feels good. Punk ass.”

“SHUT UP!”

Kelvin’s lips were back on your clit. You couldn’t close your legs because he had you pined to the bed. Whenever your hips moved side to side, he followed you. Nowhere to run.

“What was all that shit you were talking?!”

Kelvin smiled at you when you tried to move again. He simply flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. Side to side. Up and down. In a circle. In your hole. Your eyes crossed.

“Fucccck!”

His loud eating had your pussy making noise. Wet, raunchy noises. Kelvin suckled your clit again while curling his fingers over your spot.

“This my pussy? Say it.”

He paused, staring at you.

“Say it’s my pussy.”

You were in a daze. And it wasn’t the weed.

“It’s yours, Kelvin!”

“Good girl.”

You could feel your release coming. The closer it got the more Kelvin sucked on your pussy. He gently tugged on your clit with his lips before sucking it into his mouth like he was slurping oysters out a shell. Your eyes rolled and your hands reached out to grab onto the sheets. Kelvin gave you his hands to hold. You let out the most angelic moan with your head turning from side to side. You came all in Kelvin’s mouth. He mumbled something into your pussy while slapping your phat ass. Kelvin lifted his face from between your pussy lips, licking his lips while his brown eyes connected with yours.

“I’m not finished.”

Kelvin had you on all fours.

He was eating both holes from the back.

You were dripping to the sheets.

That clit didn’t stand a chance.

That pussy continues to cream all in his mouth. Your dress and bra were somewhere in the room. You couldn’t keep track. Words were lost to you and all you could do was drool against his pillow.

“Ima cum in your mouth again!”

Kelvin gripped your ass cheeks as his tongue darted in and out of your pussy from the back. The sound of his tongue had you moaning.

“Eat that shit! Fuck!”

The sucking. He probably had cum dripping from his chin at this point. Orgasm rocked your body so hard you fall to your stomach. Kelvin slapped your ass and with a laugh he settled next to you with a content smile and a glossy face. He rested his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. You just stared at him like he was the Devil.

“What I tell you?”

Kelvin turned to look at you.

“You think you can handle more?”

You could only blink at him. This man can’t be real.

“I don’t get tired, Y/N. Hm,” kelvin turned onto his side and ran his fingers down your spine and over your ass, “Wanna sit on my face?”

It was as if his words had some sort of power over you. You wanted more. NEEEDED MORE.

You sit up and Kelvin gave you a smile before helping you to sit reverse cowgirl on his face.

“Ride my tongue…do it.”

You brace yourself on his thighs and whine your hips. His tongue and lips savored your sopping wet folds.

“Right there, daddy…”

Kelvin reached around your body to pinch your nipples. You whirl your hips when his lips found your clit again.

“Stay on it…mmm…stay on that clit…”

You bit your lip, a confidence flaring up within you.

Kelvin ate to his hearts desire and you couldn’t get enough of it. Your eyes fall to his crotch, a heavy bulge right there in his briefs. You take your hand and stroke him, that dick jerking against your palm. While he ate your pussy for the third time, you freed his dick and when that warm girth touched the flesh of your hand, you whimpered.

Eight inches. Smooth. Brown. Pink tip.

You stroke him, pre cum spilling over your fingers. His balls are so big. You cup them and roll them in one hand while stroking him in your other hand. Kelvin moaned into your pussy, thigh muscles tightening.

“Such a pretty dick, Kelvin…”

You lean forward a little, spitting on his tip. Kelvin tongued you down from clit to hole and you twist your wrist to stroke him while riding out your orgasm. You could feel yourself coming in his mouth.

“I want this dick in me.”

Arching your back, you wrap your lips around his tip and start sucking. Kelvin’s hips jerked out of control.

“Fuck, Y/N. Suck that dick.”

He could see you from his angle, bobbing your head with his dick hitting the back of your throat.

“Mmm, I knew that mouth was made for dick.”

You had his balls while you throated him.

“Dick taste good, don’t it?”

You were loving his dirty talk. It did taste good. You knew it would.

“I made myself cum earlier thinking about you, Y/N…I couldn’t help myself…I think about you so much…how you would look riding my dick…how deep I can fuck you…”

His dick in your mouth, his balls in your hand, your cum on his lips. All of it had you ready to fuck this man into oblivion. Ride him like you were throwing ass to a bounce beat. He was so fine and so deserving of the pussy. He makes you laugh, he’s a gentleman, he’s a certified munch. Boy were you lucky.

Kelvin stared at your pussy and rubbed it from behind.

“Squeeze my nuts…mmm…suck that tip, baby…Y/N…I’m a cum…you want me to cum so bad, huh…shit…”

Kelvin sank two fingers deep inside of you and his dick swelled to the point of making your jaws sore. He let off a big nut in your mouth and you gulped it down like a good cum, guzzling slut.

Kelvin twitched while you sucked down as much nut as you could. His fingers slipped out of you and you finally release his dick. You turn to look at him, and before you know it, Kelvin is sucking on his fingers and then bringing you to the bed to kiss you. He’s on top of you with his tongue in your mouth and his dick flesh against your pussy lips.

Breaking the kiss, Kelvin locked eyes with you.

“I wanna fuck you now.” He whispered.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[prael]

Day 7: Rockstar

Loona/ARTMS Jinsoul x male reader smut

words: 3,223 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. That's probably the order she would put them in.

It might seem cliché, but there's nothing new under the sun. Life on tour is an endless cycle of late-night gigs and after-parties searching for something to drink, take or fuck. It's an addiction, the lifestyle, and Jinsoul isn't an exception to the rule.

Every performance goes exactly the same: play to a sold-out crowd, have a little something backstage, give some autographs, follow the drink wherever it leads and then end the night fucking her lead guitarist. Rinse and repeat. It's easy enough to follow the routine once you've got the hang of things.

She convinced you to pick it up for the first time back in high school. She told you that you had real talent and should really give the whole music thing a shot. She said you had natural charm when you held a guitar and could make everyone in the room pay attention, so you played along because you wanted to see if her words were true or not.

As it turned out, she was right. You might have never played anything in your life before joining Jinsoul in the practice room, but you're a quick learner, talented too. You followed her instructions, listened to all the little details of what being a rockstar means and eventually made it big. Together.

It isn't like you owe her everything for helping you through this life but you appreciate everything she has done for you, nonetheless. If Jinsoul had said jump, you'd be asking her how high but unfortunately for you, you can't exactly tell her this without looking like that one crazy stalker fan (that's an entirely different story).

When you're with the others though, performing together on stage with thousands of people screaming out their love and adoration as your fingers dance up and down your fretboard, well, there are no words to describe the feeling. You're addicted. It's thrilling, nerve-racking, terrifying and amazing all at the same time.

And the truth is, you feel it just like she does. You step off the stage and reach for whatever bottle you can find because the adrenaline coursing through your veins is electrifying, but the buzz always leaves too quickly. So, in order to prolong the high, you take it back to the hotel. Groupies, liquor and the hard stuff; everything is fair game.

-

Jinsoul has her hand wrapped firmly around your waist as she brings her body close to grinding against your thigh while singing into the mic. Her breathy voice sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers continue to glide effortlessly across strings while staring out into the sea of faceless bodies cheering as they sway from side to side beneath strobe lighting.

The lead vocalist grips tightly onto your shirt as her tongue darts over your earlobe, causing your skin to prickle with sensation before leaning away again. She grins wickedly, knowing what kind of effect she can have on you before returning to strutting across the stage. She dances in time with each chord progression you create. Watching as Jinsoul plays with her fans who push forward eagerly at any opportunity, hoping their fingertips can graze hers for even half a second, she laughs. The flashing lights are flickering in a seemingly random pattern, illuminating her features and casting shadows upon them all at once.

It's the encore. Fans chanting and begging for more. All their attention fixed solely upon Jinsoul; her movements so captivatingly beautiful yet dangerously provocative. Everything about her radiates confidence—power—lust. You watch carefully when she bends down to place a chaste kiss on a fan's hand; you watch when she takes the lollipop from one guy's mouth and puts it between her teeth. Smiling smugly to herself after spitting it out back at him. And you can't help yourself either... It's impossible not to get drawn into her orbit whenever she gets like this.

As much as everyone loves a good show, it ends too soon. Everything finishes with your eyes meeting hers through sweaty bangs; hands clapping in unison along with the rest of the band as they thank the audience for coming out tonight.

A smile still remains plastered firmly on Jinsoul's lips despite how exhausted she appears after performing for hours straight. Sweat beads glisten across her brow and drip down her temple as she pants heavily from exertion but still maintains that air of invincibility and untouchability, like always.

The lights dim and you're making your way off stage with Jinsoul hot on your tail behind you. You turn around intending to compliment her performance, only managing halfway before suddenly she presses her palm flat against the wall beside your head, pinning you against it. Her eyes glint mischievously at seeing how flustered you've become, having her so close to your face again.

"I know I did amazing." She says simply, before licking her upper lip seductively.

Before you know it her hand is already wrapped around the nape of your neck pulling you toward her and into a rough kiss filled with needful desperation. Tongue sliding past yours in earnest exploration before sliding away again to drag along the roof of your mouth instead. A gasp leaves your lungs being stolen away by Jinsoul, who eagerly swallows it down as if it were nourishment enough to sustain herself completely on its own.

"I need a drink," she murmurs huskily before pulling on your wrist leading towards the dressing rooms where several bottles await you in ice.

-

Another night, another fucking blur. It started in the dressing room with your band members; congratulating themselves for playing such an incredible gig together whilst downing shots and racking lines until they forget why exactly it is that they should even celebrate anymore.

You know little of what happened between then and now. Just snapshots. An image in your mind of Jinsoul dancing on a table surrounded by strangers all cheering her name. A memory of a bathroom stall where you found yourself with your pants pulled halfway down to your knees, some girl whose face remains indistinguishable giving you sloppy head. Then there are parts where you recall talking animatedly with some fan asking what's your favourite track from their album, others asking you to sign their breasts because they didn't bring anything else to write on. More of just flashes, really—snapshots of moments lost forever amongst booze, drugs and cigarette smoke.

It must have been a miracle that got the two of you back here alone without any incident or accident happening beforehand, considering neither of you could walk properly without stumbling over something unseen every couple of steps taken forward. Regardless, however, eventually, you do reach the hotel room door, which swings open violently crashing loudly into the wall behind it. Kicked by Jinsoul, who couldn't care less about causing damage or waking people up around you because she wants nothing more right now than to get laid.

Jinsoul's lips crush against yours almost immediately, stealing your breath away just as soon as it escapes from your lungs. Teeth clash clumsily while tongues slide hungrily within each other's mouths, fighting fiercely until finally breaking apart once air becomes scarce between you both.

Your mouth travels downward along her jawline, sucking bruises into soft flesh wherever possible—finding purchase there to continue making marks upon unmarred skin otherwise unknown and wanting—a place forbidden by nature yet entirely inviting, nonetheless. Fingertips dance gracefully across her curves until her legs give out, sending the two of you falling onto the bed without caution or warning whatsoever.

She's pulling off her ripped jeans. You're helping remove everything else until she sits before you fully exposed wearing nothing but those sinful fishnet stockings covering perfectly toned calves leading upward towards her thighs. They contrast beautifully against her flawless pale complexion; smooth as marble but warm beneath your touch, unlike the cold stone ever could hope to achieve.

Time and time again, no matter how often you've done this exact thing, seeing her bare like this never fails to amaze you. This angelic creature baring herself shamelessly beneath bright lights—openly inviting your gaze as though daring it not to look elsewhere but at her. And god knows how difficult resisting temptation truly is...

"Fucking come on." Her speech is slurred.

Her impatience shows clearly through alcohol-glazed eyes staring expectantly up at yours, silently pleading desperately for action. She doesn't need to ask twice, though; you gladly oblige, willingly pressing palms firmly upon inner thighs. Pushing gently outward, spreading wide welcoming hips before pressing two fingers roughly inside her slick, wet cunt.

Jinsoul's body arches upwards off the bedding instantly from pleasure, throwing her head backwards against pillows as loud moans escape parted lips. You're sloppy. Messy. Drunkenly probing into her pussy, desperately trying to hit that spot deep within her core, which always manages to drive her absolutely insane.

"No," she groans in frustration. "Fuck me." Every word she speaks takes an effort to enunciate clearly, each syllable struggling against the haze clouding her mind from reason. "Fingers aren't enough..."

You understand immediately what she means when she looks at you with those half-lidded eyes filled with need; lustful desire burning intensely within pupils dilated to full width now. She wants you to fuck her. Hard. With your cock buried deep inside her until she forgets everything else, but how amazing it feels being filled completely by you.

And so, you oblige once more... removing fingers covered entirely, coated thickly in Jinsoul's juices before quickly fumbling at your trousers. Undoing zippers hastily and pulling them down past your knees where they fall onto carpet flooring forgotten alongside all other articles removed already.

She's watching you undress, her eyes roaming your body with their haze. Lips curling upwards into a smirk before licking over teeth, hungrily anticipating what comes next. She knows exactly what she wants from you. Knows just how badly she needs it right now, too.

She sees you're ready, and without a word, she climbs onto all fours. Leaning forward on hands and knees before lowering her face onto the sheets below, presenting herself fully exposed before you, waiting eagerly for what comes next. And as soon as your tip brushes against her entrance, wetting itself upon her lips, it's all so familiar to you. You've been here a hundred times before.

You slap down hard onto her ass, making the skin turn pink. Jinsoul yelps out, surprised, but enjoys the sensation nonetheless. You repeat this several more times until her butt cheeks burn deep crimson under contact with each strike delivered forcefully across them. She groans loudly with each blow struck upon sensitive flesh, causing pain mixed deliciously together alongside pleasure.

When done playing games, finally, you grab her hips firmly—tightly enough that fingerprints will remain bruised tomorrow morning—before plunging forward into Jinsoul's cunt, burying yourself balls-deep within her core instantly. She always says sex after a show is special. Whether it's the adrenaline, the drink, the drugs or whatever the hell else that fuels you, you give it to her good every single time.

Your thrusts become rough and quick almost immediately. Skin slapping loudly together with each movement made forcefully enough to cause ripples across flesh bouncing back from the impact. It's messy. Dirty. Filthy. But Jinsoul loves every minute of being fucked hard like this—every moment spent pounding into her pussy again and again relentlessly.

She feels so good around you. Hot. Tight. Wet. Your cock slides smoothly between slick folds, easily finding purchase within soft walls stretching accommodatingly around its size. She moans loudly, screaming obscenities with each thrust given, encouraging you further until eventually, she climaxes, screaming out your name in ecstasy.

Jinsoul collapses forward onto the bedding below, completely spent from orgasm. But you're still as hard as ever. You follow her down, boning her into the bed with your pelvis slapping hard against her ass cheeks, smashing them repeatedly against skin reddened by prior contact already.

She gasps in shock at feeling you still going, unable to do much else except accept how wonderfully incredible it feels being fucked senselessly. You pound away at her pussy, relentlessly continuing your assault. Thrusts becoming faster now, quicker in pace. You can't be sure, but you think she's cumming again. The way her body shudders uncontrollably beneath you, convulsing violently while her voice cracks mid-moan. She cries out in ecstasy, calling for god knows who or what, but fuck if it doesn't make you want to finish too.

You're entranced in ecstasy, lost within a haze of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending within your body. And before long, you're cumming hard into her cunt. You're collapsing down against her. Chest to back. Her willing body pressed into the bed beneath you. But still, somehow, she manages to reach backwards, grabbing tightly onto your arm with one hand, pulling you closer towards her until your lips meet hers once more.

Your tongues dance together in perfect sync, tasting one another intensely as they battle for dominance between mouths. Kisses become sloppy. Desperate. You both need more from each other than you currently have within yourselves to give.

And finally, when you break away, breathing heavily, she murmurs, "Nothing beats this, right? Nothing... feels better than fucking you."

You know she's right. Nothing does come close to how amazing it feels to be inside her.

-

The next morning you wake up with your head throbbing painfully, feeling hungover as hell. Not a lot of the night before remains in your head except for vague images of Jinsoul dancing on tables surrounded by admirers cheering her name, or maybe you were the one doing all that. You don't remember.

You roll your head to the side. To the empty space beside you.

"Jinsoul?"

There's a numb tremor that runs up your body—a feeling caught somewhere between confusion and pleasure.

You find yourself reaching out to touch her, wanting desperately to feel the warmth radiating from her skin but instead finding nothing except cold air and soft sheets. She's gone. It's not like this is the first time this has happened though...

"I'm right here, idiot," she says softly.

She wraps her mouth around your cock again, slowly bobbing her head up and down along its length. There's the feeling again. It's her; dragged out of your sleepy haze one suck at a time until finally you're able to fully appreciate everything about it.

Her tongue laps over the tip. Her hand strokes gently at the base while the other plays with your balls. It's fucking amazing. It always is whenever she does this. You watch as she takes you completely into her mouth, wrapping her lips around you before slowly pulling back off. Her cheeks hollow slightly as she sucks hard on the head, causing you to groan loudly and buck your hips upward involuntarily.

She looks up at you through thick lashes. Her eyes were stained with last night's makeup; mascara smudged across her face creating dark circles around her irises, but still somehow managing to retain their natural beauty despite that fact. You smile at her and she smiles back, before taking you deep once more.

Your hands grip tightly onto the bed sheets beside you as she begins pumping faster now, bobbing her head up and down your length with renewed vigour. What a way to wake up in the morning, huh?

"Fuck," you hiss between clenched teeth. "Keep going."

Your hips thrust up again, causing Jinsoul to gag slightly at the sudden movement suddenly coming from beneath her. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes again before winking playfully.

She pushes her throat onto you until her lips meet the base of your cock. You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself any longer and reach out, grabbing roughly onto her hair, forcing her head forward even further.

She gags once more but doesn't stop moving her mouth up and down along your shaft. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You don't know how much longer you can last like this, so you tug firmly at Jinsoul's locks again; signalling to her that you're about to cum.

She releases you from her mouth with a loud pop, then wastes no time in crawling over you. Straddling her hips above yours, she guides you to her entrance before lowering herself onto you. Her cunt is already a mess, wet with excitement, and stained with last night's debauchery. It doesn't bother her, riding you like this in the morning. She loves it.

The sight of her naked body bouncing on top of yours is enough to make anyone lose their mind and fuck if you don't want to see this every damn day of your life. The way her tits bounce in tandem with each movement made, how her mouth hangs open slightly in ecstasy as she throws her head back, letting out a moan now and then. Fuck, she's so goddamn sexy.

She knows what she's doing, too. Knows how to draw this out as long as possible, prolonging your pleasure for as long as she can without breaking eye contact with you. She rides you hard; hips thrusting forward aggressively, then slowing to a laboured grind that leaves you reeling for more.

"Good morning," she coos seductively.

You're mesmerised by her—completely hypnotised by everything about her. And before long, you're reaching out, grabbing onto her waist, guiding her movements as best as you can manage.

She leans over and kisses you hungrily while continuing to fuck herself on top of your cock. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, swirling around inside, tasting every inch available. The kiss is hot, wet and messy, but perfect, nonetheless.

Jinsoul breaks away from you and places her hands on either side of your head, steadying herself as she rides you harder and faster now, bringing both of you closer and closer towards orgasm. Your fingers dig into her skin, gripping tightly onto flesh for purchase as you feel yourself nearing climax.

It's too much. It's all too fucking good. You can't take anymore. You're not going to last another second longer. You need release. Desperately.

At the very last, you buck her off, throw her down to the bed and climb to your knees, hovering over her as you begin jacking yourself off furiously. The sight of her lying there, legs spread wide open, waiting patiently for you to cum on her only intensifies the sensation building within your core.

"Fuck!"

With one final cry, you erupt onto Jinsoul's stomach, painting white streaks across taut skin stretched taut across toned abs. Up to her tits too, ropes of cum covering pink nipples standing erect beneath it. You collapse next to her, completely spent from exertion. She laughs softly, running fingertips through damp hair and sticking messily to her forehead before wiping away sweat beads dripping down her chin.

"You always finish quick when we do this in the morning," she whispers teasingly.

You laugh too. "You just look too good."

She rolls over, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Good enough to give me another in the shower?"

You grin.

She matches it with a knowing stare.

This is the life.

[corroded-hellfire]

For the Christmas requests ⛄

Imagine Christmas when Eliza is old enough to believe in Santa and everything is rather new to her, especially since her brothers are teenagers and probably don't have the same excitement as her and Eddie's emotional cause his boys are grown up now and very excited trying to make the most of the holidays with Eliza helping her write a letter to Santa, decorate the house etc etc

I simply fell in love with this idea the moment I read it 🥰

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Downstairs is quiet, the soft hum of the fridge all that’s piercing the calm silence. The living room is dim, the only light coming from the white twinkle of the Christmas tree in the living room. It casts a warm, inviting glow over the kitchen, making everything feel peaceful and still on this cold December night.

Ryan and Luke are tucked away in a corner of Ryan’s bedroom, a video game controller in each of their hands, fiercely battling one another to see who can kill the most zombies. You’re in the shower, letting the hot water take the chill out of your bones.

Eddie pads gently into the kitchen, looking to grab one of the frosted sugar cookies you made with Eliza earlier in the day. He pulls back the cling wrap and slips out a red frosted stocking-shaped cookie topped with snowflake sprinkles. As per usual for him, the cling sticks to Eddie’s fingers and he has to fumble his hand free without smearing any of the other cookies or ending up with multicolored frosting coating his skin.

Once he’s made a successful escape, Eddie lifts the cookie to his mouth—but stops halfway. He pauses, a small smile coming to his face as he looks at the cookie. Suddenly he’s transported back to when the boys were little.

“I don’t know why that’s in with the Christmas cookie cutters!” Luke crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs his small shoulders. The three-year-old is firm in his opinions already.

Eddie chuckles and uses his forefinger to dab flour on the tip of his younger son’s nose.

“Because it’s a stocking, duh!” Ryan says from the other side of his father.

“It looks like a J!” Luke replies, gesturing towards the offending cookie cutter in question.

“There aren’t any other letters here though!” Ryan retorts.

“Boys,” Eddie says, calmly putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a stocking or a J, does it? Santa is going to love it no matter what when you leave it for him tonight.”

Luke picks at the bottom corner of the rolled-out sugar cookie dough in front of him. He pinches it off before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you think Santa will leave us more presents if we put chocolate chips in them?” Luke asks.

“Oh, good idea!” Ryan adds, face lighting up in excitement at the prospect.

“I think we can manage that,” Eddie says. He steps away from the counter to grab the bag of chocolate chips out of the pantry. When he turns back around, he watches his sons from behind as they move closer together.

“We gotta leave Santa the biggest cookies,” Ryan tells his younger brother quietly.

“So we can’t let Daddy eat them!” Luke adds, nodding emphatically.

Eddie lets out a silent chuckle before walking back to his previous post between his two sons.

“Alright, so why don’t we use the chips as buttons with this snowman cookie cutter?”

He smiles wistfully at the cookie in his hand before sinking a bite into it. The sound of his chewing prevents him from hearing the less-than-graceful footsteps that are slowly coming down the stairs.

Cookie fully crammed into his mouth, Eddie swipes a paper towel from the roll and wipes his hands off on it before turning to toss it in the garbage can under the sink.

Unruly curls catch in Eddie’s periphery and he does a double take when he sees Eliza standing there, long pale pink nightgown hanging around her, and her stuffed pig Penelope dangling from her hand at her side.

Eddie swallows the cookie and tosses the paper towel into the trash bin.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” he asks. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Your three-year-old shakes her head, clearly tired.

“What’s going on, huh? Did you have a bad dream?” Eddie cocks his head to the side and takes a few steps closer to her.

Eliza shakes her head and rubs her right eye with her free hand.

“Can’t sleep,” she says.

Eddie frowns and crouches down to be at her level.

“Why not?”

“I not write my letter yet,” she says.

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“What letter?” he asks, head tilting to the side.

“For Santa.” Her dark sleepy eyes widen and Eddie can see the true worry there. “If I don’t write it for him, he won’t get in time.”

“Ah.” Eddie nods in understanding. He remembers the days when Luke and Ryan would write their letters together at the kitchen table, always peeking over to see what the other was asking for and double checking that they weren’t asking for the same toys. There’s a sudden pang in his heart that the boys are teenagers now; that young, joyful, magical wonder is long gone from their Christmases. Eddie knows he should tell Eliza that they’ll write the letter tomorrow and to get back to bed. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to indulge in this joy with her. To help her keep her endearing innocence when it comes to Christmas magic.

“Why don’t we fix that right now, huh?” Eddie asks. “Write your letter real quick, then you get back to bed and I’ll send it out to Santa before I go to sleep.”

Eliza nods, bedhead curls bobbing with the movement. She takes a few steps forward and lovingly rests her forehead against Eddie’s right cheekbone. Your husband smiles at the sweet, if not sleepy, gesture.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he says. Eddie presses a kiss to the top of her head before standing back up to full height.

The drawer next to the sink gracefully glides open and Eddie pulls out a notepad and pen. He holds them both in one hand and offers the other to his daughter.

“Shall we?” he asks.

Eliza’s small hand folds into his much larger one and the two walk towards the dining room table. Eddie pulls out a cherry oak chair and lowers himself down on it. He effortlessly lifts Eliza and sets her on his left thigh, facing in toward the table. The blank lined paper stares up at the pair of them and Eddie lets a black pen roll from his grip.

“So,” Eddie says, uncapping the pen with one hand while the other arm holds Eliza safely in place. “What are we going to tell Santa?”

The little girl plucks the pen from her father’s grip and presses the tip to the top of the page of paper.

“How I spell ‘dear Santa?’”

Eddie guides her through those letters, occasionally correcting her on how to properly draw them out. After she writes her greeting and adds a comma that’s longer than her father’s hair, Eliza tilts her head up at Eddie.

“Now what do you want to say?” Eddie asks her.

“Ummm…” Eliza looks back down at the paper. Her nose scrunches up as she tries to envision the perfect letter in her mind. “Wanna tell him about me.”

“Go ahead, sweet pea.”

“Daddy, can you help me write?”

A soft smile graces Eddie’s face before he presses a few gentle kisses to the top of his little girl’s head.

“Anything for you, Lize.”

Eddie’s right hand gently curls around Eliza’s, guiding it below the greeting, to the next line.

“Uh, I Eliza,” she says, trying to figure out what content to add.

“How about how old you are?” Eddie offers.

Eliza nods and relaxes back against her father’s chest as they continue to write as a team.

“Can I ask him questions?” Eliza asks, peering nervously down at the sheet of paper.

“I think he’d love that,” Eddie assures her.

Dear Santa,

My name is Eliza and I am three years old. I have been very good all year. Except the time that I took one of my brother Luke’s cleats cleets baseball shoes. I didn’t want him to go to baseball practice, I wanted him to stay home and play with me. But I gave Luke his shoe back and he said it was okay, so I don’t think that is something to put me on the naughty list for.

There are lots of things I want for Christmas but Daddy says I can only tell you the ones I really really want because you’re busy with all the other kids. I would please like a new Barbie doll. I want her to have red hair because then she will look like my best friend Mia and my Aunt Max. I also want a new princess crown because I don’t have a green one yet. Can I also have a tea set so I can have tea parties with my mommy? I want to ask for one more thing and Daddy says Mommy won’t like it, but I want a tiny dragon who can sleep on my bed with me. But no fire breathing because that is too hot.

Santa, is it always cold in the North Pole? How many reindeer do you have? Are there more than the ones you fly with? Where do they live? Does Rudolph have a bigger house than the rest of them? Maybe I can name my dragon Rudolph!

Okay, I have to go to bed now and I want my daddy to send this letter to you right now. So bye and I hope you get lots of yummy cookies but none that are yummier than the ones I made with Mama.

Love,

Eliza Marie Munson

Eddie smiles as he helps her sign off with the final “n” of their last name.

“Feel better now?” Eddie asks.

Eliza nods, stretching her mouth wide open in a yawn as she does. Your husband presses a few kisses to the girl’s head as she leans back against his torso. Penelope the pig starts to slip off of her lap but Eddie is able to make a quick save and set the doll on the table.

When he peers down at her, Eddie can see that Eliza is already fast asleep. Her body goes pliant as her soft breathing evens out. Solid arms wrap around her tiny frame and Eddie holds her close to his chest as he pushes the chair away from the table and stands up.

He manages to finagle her more to his left so he can scoop up Eliza’s beloved Penelope in the other hand. Slowly, Eddie heads towards the stairs and takes one careful step at a time until he reaches the second story of the house. Eliza’s room is at the end of the hall and, just as the two of them pass by the door to your bathroom, you pull it open.

A smile graces your lips when you see the peaceful face of your sleeping daughter. You tie the belt of your plush bathrobe as you follow Eddie down the hallway to Eliza’s room. First, Eddie tosses Penelope down onto the small bed. Then he slowly, as not to wake her, lowers Eliza’s fragile form, cradling the back of her head with one large hand.

The moment her body comes into contact with her blankets, Eliza buries her face in her pillow and curls up against her crumpled and bunched-up comforter. A content sigh is all you hear before her soft breathing fills the room.

Arms now free, Eddie pulls you against his body and the two of you just stand there in the moment. It reminds you of how you’d simply stare down in awe at your daughter when she was a newborn. Everything about her was new and exciting. Now, you admire how those features have changed. Her cheeks still hold that round but chubbable marker of toddlerhood. The little button nose she’s had from the moment you laid eyes on her hasn’t changed at all—even though it crinkles up more these days whenever she laughs.

“She’s perfect,” Eddie whispers, bringing you back to the present.

“Of course she is,” you reply at the same volume. “We made her.”

After taking one last look at your sleeping daughter, the two of you quietly slip out of her room. The sound of Ryan and Luke battling one another in some form of virtual combat leaks out into the hallway and you chuckle. Eddie listens as well, remembering when those voices weren’t as deep as they’ve started to become recently and were excited about the things Eliza is now.

You head down the stairs, Eddie right behind you. The soft white lights gleaming on the tree fill the living room with a warm glow that’s unlike any other during the year. Swaddled up in your robe, you sit down on the couch and pat the cushion next to you. Eddie takes the cue and settles in at your side. The serenity of the moment lulls you into sleepiness. You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder and he gently lays his head atop yours.

After a few quiet moments, Eddie whispers, “I missed this.”

“Missed what, Eds?” you ask, letting your eyes succumb to their heaviness.

“The magic,” Eddie replies wistfully. “The Santa, and the reindeer, and the pure innocence and joy of those little faces when they see what’s under the tree for them. Christmas is still so meaningful with the boys at this age, but there’s a spark that’s missing once they know the truth. It’s back, though. Even with the boys, I can see it. The way they ask Eliza when she wants to go see Santa at the mall or if she wants to make reindeer food to leave out for them on Christmas Eve.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through your chest.

“What’s reindeer food?” you ask.

“Basically trail mix,” Eddie says with a soft laugh of his own. “It was Luke’s idea when he was little.”

“I’m glad you feel that magic again,” you tell him. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”

“Don’t go singing carols on me,” Eddie teases.

You laugh and turn your head to bury your face in his neck, the familiar scent of Irish Spring soap making you take a deep breath in.

“How about we just enjoy this silent night then?” you ask, pressing a light kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Good thinking,” Eddie says, tucking you into his side. “It’s only a matter of time before we get interrupted by one of our little drummer boys—or girl.”

“Hmm,” you hum, resting your head on your husband’s shoulder. “Then I think I’ll soak up every second of this cuddle time with you.”

“Merry Christmas to me.”

[ka1rin]

A Match in Munich (part 1)

— kaiser x fem reader

summary: You move to Germany to pursue your studies and volleyball career, adjusting to a new life in a foreign city. Along the way, you meet a confident soccer player, and the growing tension between you both sparks an unexpected connection, leaving you unsure of what comes next.

author note: oikawa is mentioned here btw!! And I posted this at 3am without proofreading so if there’s a mistake, don’t be surprised. (T—T”)

The hum of the airplane engines faded into the background as you leaned your head against the window, watching the cloud-streaked horizon. Moving to Germany was a big step, but it was part of your plan—pursue your studies while preparing for your future as a professional volleyball player. Volleyball was your passion, but your education was equally important.

As you stepped into the bustling Munich airport, you spotted a familiar figure waiting for you. Noel Noa, your cousin and one of the world’s most famous soccer players, waved at you, his platinum hair catching the light.

“Welcome to Germany,” Noel said warmly, pulling you into a brief hug.

“It’s been too long,” you replied, smiling up at him.

Noel helped you with your luggage and led you to his sleek car parked outside. As he drove through the charming streets of Munich, you took in the cobblestone roads and beautiful architecture, feeling both excited and overwhelmed.

“I’ve set up a place for you near your university,” Noel explained. “It’s small, but it’s close to campus. You’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Noel. I really appreciate it,” you said sincerely.

He nodded, then glanced at you. “Actually, I need a favor.

You raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

He chuckled. “I’m swamped tomorrow. Can you pick me up after practice? It’s at the Bastard München stadium. I’ll send you the details.”

“Sure,” you replied with a shrug.

The next evening, you drove to the Bastard München stadium, parking near the players’ entrance. While waiting for Noel, your eyes wandered to the field, where the team was practicing. Their movements were precise and calculated, a testament to their elite status.

One player stood out—blond hair shining under the stadium lights, his confidence radiating as he effortlessly commanded the field. You couldn’t help but watch him.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. You quickly looked away, heat rising to your cheeks.

When practice ended, Noel approached, towel slung over his shoulder. “Thanks for coming. Sorry for the wait.”

“No problem,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Before you could leave, the blond player walked over, his stride casual but purposeful.

“Noa,” he greeted your cousin smoothly before turning his attention to you. “And who’s this?”

“This is my cousin,” Noel replied, his tone guarded. “She’s a professional volleyball player studying here in Germany.”

The player extended a hand, his smirk deepening. “Michael Kaiser. A pleasure to meet you.”

You hesitated briefly before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

His grip lingered just a second longer than necessary, his gaze holding yours until Noel cleared his throat.

“All right, Kaiser, don’t bother her,” Noel said, ushering you toward the car.

As you left, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Kaiser’s eyes on you, his smirk etched into your mind.

A few days later, you found yourself at the stadium again, this time after classes. Noel had asked you to pick him up, but when he arrived, he had other plans.

“Sorry,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “I have a meeting downtown. I’ll need to leave my car here for now.”

“Okay,” you replied, shrugging.

Before you could drive off, Kaiser appeared, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Noa, heading out already?”

“Yeah,” Noel replied, nodding toward you. “(y/n)’s heading back to her place. You live in the same direction, don’t you? Why don’t you ride with her?”

You blinked in surprise, but Kaiser grinned. “If (y/n) doesn’t mind, I’d be happy to.”

You hesitated, but his relaxed demeanor made it hard to say no. “Sure, why not?”

Kaiser slid into the passenger seat after Noel left, his presence immediately filling the car.

“So,” he began, breaking the silence. “What’s a professional volleyball player doing chauffeuring her cousin?”

You laughed lightly. “It’s a one-time thing. I just moved here, and Noel’s been helping me get settled.”

“Ah, a newcomer,” he said, studying you with curiosity. “How are you finding Munich so far?”

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted. “But I’m still adjusting. It’s a big change.”

“You don’t seem like the type to be overwhelmed easily,” he remarked, his smirk returning.

You glanced at him, caught off guard. “And you can tell that from a ten-minute car ride?”

He grinned. “I’m good at reading people.”

When you arrived at his stop, Kaiser lingered, his hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. I owe you one. How about I buy you coffee sometime?”

You hesitated, unsure if he was serious.

“It’s just coffee,” he added, his smirk softening.

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling despite yourself.

A few days later, you met Kaiser at a cozy café. The atmosphere was warm, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

"So," Kaiser began after taking a sip of his espresso, "why aren't you playing volleyball right now? You're clearly passionate about it."

You smiled, leaning back in your chair. "I want to finish college first. After that, I'll focus on volleyball completely—no distractions."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "No distractions, huh? What's the plan after college?

"Brazil," you said, your eyes lighting up. "I have a friend there—Oikawa. He's one of the best setters I know, and training with him will push me to my limits. I'll stay there for a few years, then join Japan's national team."

Kaiser raised an eyebrow. "You've already been offered a spot on the national team?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's a dream come true, but I want to be ready. I don't want to hold back when I step onto that court."

He leaned forward, his blue eyes locked onto yours. "You're playing the long game. That's rare. Most people I know rush into success without thinking."

"I'm not most people," you said, your tone teasing but firm.

Kaiser grinned. "I noticed."

After finishing your coffee and a shared plate of pastries, Kaiser leaned back in his chair. "So, what now? Should I call you a cab, or do you want to walk home?"

You glanced out the window at the calm evening streets. "I'd rather walk. It's not far, and I like the fresh air."

He stood up, slipping on his coat. "Then I'll walk with you. Munich's safer than most cities, but I don't trust it with you walking alone."

You laughed softly but didn't argue, letting him accompany you.

The walk was quiet at first, the cobblestone streets glistening under the streetlights. The city seemed to glow, a mix of old-world charm and modern energy. Kaiser walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, his usual confidence seemingly muted by thought.

"So," he said suddenly, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Where will you be staying in Brazil?"

You turned to him, surprised by the question. "Oikawa's already reserved an apartment for me. It's next to his."

Kaiser stopped walking for a moment, his expression darkening. "Next to his?"

You nodded. "Yeah, he insisted. Said it'd be easier for us to train together."

He began walking again, his movements a little stiffer than before. "Are you and Oikawa... a thing?"

The question caught you off guard. "What?"

"You know," he said, his voice flat but laced with irritation. "Dating. Together. Is he more than a friend?"

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be annoyed. "No, Michael. Oikawa's just a friend. We've known each other for years, and that's it.”

Kaiser's shoulders relaxed slightly, but his jaw remained tight. "Good. Because if he were, I'd have a lot to say about him reserving an apartment for you."

You rolled your eyes, choosing to keep walking instead of engaging. Kaiser, however, wasn't done.

"You're really going to spend years with this guy?" he pressed.

"It's not like that," you replied, exasperated but amused by his persistence. "We're both focused on our goals, and training with someone as talented as him is an opportunity I can't pass up. That's all."

Kaiser didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed on the pavement ahead. When you reached your apartment building, he stopped a few steps away, his expression softer but still guarded.

"Well," he said, his voice lighter now, "thanks for the walk. Try not to let this Oikawa guy push you too hard in training. And don't let him distract you from finishing college."

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I can handle myself, Kaiser."

He gave a small wave, his usual smirk creeping back. "Goodnight, (y/n)"

"Goodnight, Michael," you replied, watching as he walked away.

You climbed the stairs to your apartment, his words still lingering in your mind. Kaiser was nothing if not persistent—and somehow, you didn't mind that one bit.

The morning came early, as it always did in your life. The prestigious university you were enrolled in wasn't for the faint of heart, and each day felt like an uphill battle. Despite your passion for volleyball, the weight of academic expectations was just as heavy. You had to be at your best—on the court and in the classroom.

As you made your way through the crowded halls, your mind raced with formulas and historical facts, preparing yourself for another grueling round of tests. Being at the top of your game academically wasn't easy, but it was a challenge you gladly accepted.

The tests, assignments, and lectures blurred into a routine, but one thing was always certain—you thrived under pressure. Each paper, each exam, was a chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren't just another student passing through.

After hours of studying and a few brutal tests, you finally wrapped up the day. As you walked out of the university, exhausted but satisfied, the familiar call of coffee beckoned you.

A quick stop at your favorite café gave you just enough energy to power through the night. It was already 10:00 PM, and you had one final task before you could call it a day: picking up Noel.

You pulled into the stadium parking lot, scanning the area for Noel. It was a late-night session, and the stadium lights cast long shadows over the empty spaces. As you waited, the sound of footsteps caught your attention, and your eyes flickered toward a familiar figure.

It was Michael Kaiser, standing near his car, surveying the area with that same confident posture. His eyes caught yours immediately, his lips curling into a familiar smirk. You felt that familiar rush when you saw him, but this time it wasn't just curiosity. Something more lingered in the air between you.

You approached him, not even thinking twice. Kaiser turned to face you, his expression neutral but something flickered in his gaze.

"You here to pick up your cousin?" Kaiser asked, his voice smooth.

"Yeah," you nodded, scanning the area. "Where is he?"

"He's just speaking with someone," Kaiser said casually, though you could tell his focus was elsewhere. "Noel's always talking to someone. Could never get him to keep his head in the game."

You chuckled lightly. "You sound like you know him well."

"I do," Kaiser said, his tone still flat, but you couldn't help but feel that there was more behind his words. His gaze shifted to you, and after a brief pause, he leaned in slightly, almost like it was an afterthought. "I never got your number."

You blinked in surprise before pulling out your phone. "Right. You didn't."

He reaches for his pockets and pulls out his phone, he presses the power button, yet the screen remains black. “Shit my phone’s dead, can I type in my number instead?”

“No problem at all” You handed your phone to him, and without hesitation, he typed in his number. When he returned your phone, his fingers brushed against yours briefly.

"I've got somewhere to be," Kaiser said, checking the time. "But I'll talk to you later." His smirk deepened, and with a final look, he turned to leave.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Noel arrived, waving from a distance. You smiled and waved back.

"Oh, you're here?" Noel asked, jumping into the passenger seat of your car.

"Yeah," you replied, slipping your phone back into your bag, your mind still on the brief exchange with Kaiser. "Let's go home."

As you started the drive, the silence between you and Noel wasn't uncomfortable—it was more a reflection of how tired you both were. The night was peaceful, the streets of Munich empty as you made your way home.

"You were talking to Kaiser?" Noel asked after a long pause, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. "Yeah, I ran into him at the stadium. Why?"

Noel didn't immediately answer, but you could sense his curiosity. "He's a good player. But I didn't think you two would meet like that."

You shrugged. "We just talked for a bit. Nothing big."

Noel didn't press further. Instead, he looked out the window, his thoughts likely preoccupied with the training and his performance on the field.

As you neared your apartment, you couldn't shake the feeling that your encounter with Kaiser wasn't a coincidence. There was something about him that kept drawing you in. Maybe it was his intensity, or the way he seemed so effortlessly confident.

You pulled into the parking area of the sleek apartment complex where Noel lived, the car slowly coming to a stop. He'd been silent for most of the ride, probably too tired from training, but now, as you were about to part ways, he seemed to have a few words left to share.

"We've got a game tomorrow," Noel said as he reached for the door handle, his voice carrying a certain level of seriousness. "You should come watch, after all tomorrow is Sunday. We're playing a strong team, and it'd be good to have you there.”

You glanced at him, curious. "A game tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he continued, grinning a little. "And, you know, you should come and give Kaiser some motivation. Maybe he'll need it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, "I'm sure he could use some cheering up."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "Haha, very funny," you replied sarcastically. "We're just friends, Noel."

Noel gave a dramatic shrug as he opened the door, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. "Alright, if that's what you say..." He paused, then added with a smirk, "But I'll still reserve some tickets for you. Just in case you change your mind and decide to come."

You chuckled. "You're impossible," you teased, but the offer still warmed you. "But fine. I'll see about it. Goodnight, Noel."

Noel stepped out of the car, turning back to give you a grateful smile. "Goodnight, (y/n). And thank you for picking me up, really. I know it's late, and you must be tired." He gave you a sincere nod before heading toward the entrance of the building.

"Anytime, couz. Get some rest. You've got a big game ahead," you called after him.

You watched him disappear into the building, your mind still buzzing from the day's events. You were excited for tomorrow's game now, especially after Noel's hint about Kaiser. It seemed like things were definitely starting to shift in unexpected ways.

As you drove home, you couldn't help but feel the pull of the upcoming game—and maybe, just maybe, you'd get a chance to see Kaiser again.

The second you arrived home, you didn't even bother taking off your shoes before you plopped into bed. The exhaustion from the day's work and everything that had happened weighed down on you, and before you knew it, you were under the covers, your eyes slowly closing.

Just as you were about to drift off, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you out of your drowsy state. You reached for it, blinking a few times to focus on the screen. An unknown number flashed across your phone.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the message. The text read:

"Hey, this is Kaiser."

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. What was Kaiser texting you for? You quickly opened the message, eager to see what he wanted.

The next message appeared:

"Do you know about the game tomorrow?"

You blinked, then typed back, "Yeah, Noel told me. He's been talking about it all day."

Kaiser's reply came swiftly:

"The game starts at 1 PM. Don't forget to come and cheer us on. It's going to be intense."

You let out a small laugh, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you decided to respond. "You should sleep now, it's almost midnight, and you have a game tomorrow."

Kaiser's reply was almost immediate:

"I'll sleep when I'm ready. But you're right, I need to rest. See you tomorrow at the game."

"Goodnight," you typed, a smile tugging at your lips as you sent it.

You dropped your phone onto the nightstand, turning off the light. As you settled back into the pillows, your thoughts drifted to the game tomorrow—and to Kaiser. Something told you tomorrow would be interesting, to say the least.

With that, you finally allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, ready for the day ahead.

You wake up with a sudden jolt, stretching your arms as you try to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your body feels heavy, but the realization hits you like a splash of cold water. You glance at the clock.

12:15?!

Your eyes widen in shock. You've slept way longer than intended, and now the rush is on. The game starts at 1:00 PM, and you have so much to do before heading out.

Scrambling out of bed, you grab a basic tee and a pair of shorts from your wardrobe. As you lay them out, a small doubt creeps in. What's the right outfit for a game like this? You hadn't thought about it before—just assumed anything would do. But now, standing there, it feels strange to show up unprepared.

After a moment's hesitation, you shrug. Whatever. Simple works.

You quickly pull on the clothes, grab your sneakers, and rush out of your apartment with your essentials—phone, wallet, keys. Locking the door behind you, you head to your car and drive toward the venue.

The trip is quick, but by the time you arrive, it's already 12:45. Just enough time for a quick stroll before the game starts. Noel had reserved a seat for you, so finding a spot wasn't a concern. But as you approach the entrance, you notice something that makes you pause.

Everyone around you is decked out in jerseys—some Bastard Munchen ones, others generic team merch—but they're all representing. Looking down at your simple tee, embarrassment creeps in. You feel out of place.

Scanning the nearby stalls, your eyes land on one selling jerseys. Perfect. You make a beeline for it, browsing through the racks until you find a Noa jersey. Excitement bubbles up, but it's short-lived. They don't have your size.

You frown, disappointment threatening to take over. But then you spot another jersey—a Kaiser one. That'll work.

You buy it and head to the bathroom to change, the fabric feeling a little stiff but comforting in its own way. As you glance at your reflection, a small smile tugs at your lips. You may not have planned this, but at least you won't stand out awkwardly in the crowd.

Alright. Let's do this.

You hurry to your seat just as the game begins. The energy in the arena is electric, the crowd roaring with every play. Your heart races as the teams battle it out, trading points in a nail-biting match. By the time it's 2-2, the tension is almost unbearable.

Then, the final set begins. Your eyes are glued to the court, watching as Kaiser moves with precision and determination. During a brief break, his gaze sweeps the crowd—and lands on you. For a moment, your eyes meet. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you quickly look away.

The game resumes, and with one powerful strike, Kaiser seals the victory for Bastard Munchen. The arena erupts, fans cheering and celebrating wildly. But before joining his team in the celebration, Kaiser glances at you again. This time, a smirk curves his lips, as if silently acknowledging you.

The crowd was chaotic, with players and staff bustling about in the player's area. You were searching for Noel Noa, your cousin, but the sheer volume of people made it nearly impossible to spot him. Frustrated, you pushed forward, determined to find him.

You bumped into someone solid, nearly losing your balance. "Tch, watch it," came an annoyed but familiar voice. You looked up to see Kaiser, his sharp eyes narrowing at first, then softening with recognition.

"Oh, Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm looking for Noa," you said.

Kaiser let out an exaggerated sigh, brushing a hand through his hair. "Figures. Fine, I'll help you. Stay close."

He started cutting through the crowd effortlessly, his confident presence parting people as he went. You followed closely, grateful for the help.

"There he is," Kaiser said, nodding ahead. Sure enough, Noel Noa stood tall, deep in conversation. "Go on, talk to him."

You stepped forward, but just as you called out, a journalist swooped in, pulling Noa aside for an interview. He gave you an apologetic look as he was whisked away, leaving you stranded in the middle of the bustling crowd.

Suddenly, the noise felt deafening, the people pressing in too close. Your breathing quickened as panic started to set in.

A hand grabbed your wrist, steady and reassuring. "Hey, I've got you."

It was Kaiser. He pulled you out of the crowd and into a quieter, more open space. The relief was immediate, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"You good?" he asked, his tone unusually gentle.

Before you could respond, a voice called out. "Hey!"

You turned to see an interviewer with a camera pointed at you, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Hey! Aren't you the star volleyball player invited to join the Japan national team?"

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Turning, you see an interviewer, her camera pointed right at you.

"And," she continues, her tone teasing, "are you two a thing?"

Her words hang in the air, and you feel the heat rising in your face. The camera clicks, capturing you and Kaiser standing close, his name clearly visible on your jersey.

Before you can respond, Kaiser steps in, a charming grin on his face. "We're just talking," he says smoothly, his voice carrying an easy confidence. "But I guess the press loves a good story."

The interviewer isn't deterred. "So no romance, then?"

Kaiser laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Nope. Just friends," he says with a playful wink. "Though I'll admit—she has excellent taste in jerseys."

You glance at him, half-annoyed, half-amused, as the interviewer snaps another photo and moves on, satisfied with her scoop.

"Well," you mutter, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "that was... something."

Kaiser chuckles. "You'll get used to it. But hey, we looked good, didn't we?"

You can't help but laugh, his lightheartedness easing the tension. "I guess so."

"See?" he says with a grin. "You've got a fanbase now."

Shaking your head, you reply, "I just hope they don't start spreading rumors."

"Let them," Kaiser teases. "We'd make a great duo" His tone softens, and he gives you a sincere look. "But seriously, you okay?"

You nod, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for handling that."

"No problem," he says with a wink. "Just another day in the spotlight."

And with that, the tension melts away. Standing beside him, you feel like you can take on whatever comes next.

you realize that being around Kaiser isn't as overwhelming as you thought. His charisma, while undeniable, has a way of putting you at ease.

As then crowd thins out, he gestures toward an exit. "Come on, let me walk you to your car," he offers, his tone casual.

You nod, falling into step beside him. The evening air is crisp, and the noise from the stadium fades into the distance. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence oddly comfortable.

"You know," Kaiser begins, breaking the quiet, "you're full of surprises."

You glance at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Most people I meet are either intimidated or trying too hard to impress. But you? You're just... you. It's refreshing."

You let out a soft laugh. "Well, I could say the same about you. For someone as confident as you seem, you're not as much of a showoff as I expected."

Kaiser raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Not a showoff? Did you not see that goal today?"

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Okay, maybe a little bit of a showoff. But not in a bad way."

He chuckles, and for a moment, his expression softens. "Thanks for coming today. It was... nice having you there."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks warm. "It was fun," you admit. "You guys are incredible to watch."

As you reach your car, Kaiser leans against the door, his hands tucked into his pockets. "So, about that coffee," he says, his smirk returning. "How about we make it dinner next time?"

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift. "Dinner?"

"Yeah," he says casually, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "You need a proper introduction to Munich. And who better to show you around than me?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if he's teasing or serious. But the look in his eyes tells you he means it.

"Alright," you say finally, a small smile playing on your lips. "Dinner it is."

His grin widens, and he steps back, letting you open your car door. "Good. I'll text you the details."

As you drive away, you can't help but replay the day's events in your mind. Somehow, amidst the chaos of your new life in Germany, Kaiser has managed to slip past your defenses. And while you're not sure what that means yet, could you possibly have feelings for him?

[bakugoushotwife]

little moon // suguru x fem!reader

a/n: hey hey hey! i know it's been forever and a day since i've uploaded, but i revamped my theme and got excited :3 plus my baby is my absolute inspiration and i felt she needed thanking for it. @suguru-getos //

warnings: yandere suguru, monkey reader, so light toxicity, kidnapping, yes you read that right shut up, complex suguru, pining, smut!! daddy kink because who am i without it, oral f!receiving, fingering, rough but loving, uhhhh i think that's it!

the sun was setting. it was his favorite time of day. or maybe least favorite. he couldn’t quite decide. despite it all, he still feels such a longing that he can’t describe. the window is open, the sky beyond melting into oranges and pinks too beautiful for a man like him to behold. the air is cold, a contrasting bitterness to the sight before him. the kotatsu keeps him warm enough to lounge in front of the window until the moon replaces the pastels he’s come to loathe. it’s how he most regularly spends his nights at this point, a peaceful moment of reflection on his day, if you could call it peaceful. 

the wind rustles the trees, his hair, his very soul it seems. he drums his fingers along his cheekbone, supporting the weight of his head in his palm. before he can contemplate the complexities of life and how he ended up staring out of a window alone, manami knocks and promptly enters. 

“sorry to disturb your peace, geto-sama.” she bows, a stack of papers under her arm, no doubt meeting notes from earlier in the day. 

“i assume it’s important.” he sighs, the orange glow casting across his skin. he looks angelic, despite his clear annoyance and displeasure. 

“nanako and mimiko found a woman that’s…afflicted.” she searches for the right word, shifting her weight from foot to foot under suguru’s intimidating gaze. 

“and? we had our purge earlier this week.” he sighs, turning his head back to the sky. it’s melding into a purple now, a deep shade that makes him feel calmer just by looking at it. 

“yes, you’re right geto-sama. the girls have brought this woman home already though, and they request your help.” she bows again, knowing that she is towing a careful line. suguru rarely denies the children, and they’ve grown old enough to abuse this weakness.

“bring them.” he sighs dramatically, jutting his chin in motion. he secretly welcomes the distraction, even if the girls were having him work after hours. it certainly beats another night replaying all of his life events to the tune of the moon. 

manami bows her head, stepping back out into the hallway. a minute or two passes, and suguru watches the door now instead of the window. manami opens the door, allowing the adopted twins and this afflicted cursed woman into the room. the energy is suffocating, a grade two curse leeching from your neck, entire body wrapped around your frame. you don’t seem so concerned however, more so confused gauging from the look on your face. 

the girls look panicked though, sensing how much of your own life force that the curse has absorbed. it’s an ugly thing, like most of them are. a disgustingly warped lizard of sorts made up of a million eyes and slimy appendages. it really doesn’t have much value in terms of developing his arsenal, moreso an annoyance to be avoided. as ugly as the creature is, it doesn’t detract from your beauty. you have a gentleness to your features, divinely feminine, some would say. your eyes are soft even as you try to harden your gaze against him. that’s cute, he thinks to himself. head still leaned against his head. you’re small, though most people are to a man of his stature and build. it’s a miracle the weight of the curse hasn’t broken your spine. you must be stronger than you look. 

“geto-sama, you have to help her!” nanako, the more vocal of his daughters says, eyes wide and pleading. there is emotion involved, which intrigues him. “she’s our friend–and i know how you feel about us being friends with monkeys but–”

“monkey?” you squawk, brow setting forward. you look at nanako with a hint of betrayal, and that makes suguru chuckle. 

“yes, monkey.” he replies. “a nickname of sorts. don’t think about it too hard.” he sighs, pushing himself to his feet. “i see you’ve befriended my children.” 

“more of an acquaintance.” you purse your lips. it is interesting. he’s never seen someone act so…boldly in front of him. correcting him, even. his nostrils flare in mild annoyance. 

“semantics. i am unconcerned with those. what are your symptoms?” he waves his hand, dismissing the girls with a nod, assuring them that he would help you and leave you unharmed. the girls back away, giving you reassuring smiles of their own. 

“i don’t want to be alone with you.” you scoff, folding your arms with a great effort, given that the curse was likely at least as heavy as your own body weight. 

“too bad. answer, or keep the curse.” he folds his own arms, examining your features more closely. a rare beauty indeed. and he must say he’s never experienced such stubbornness, even in his children. though that can be expected of someone that has no clue what’s going on, he imagines. 

“i’ll keep whatever it is if you want to be an ass about it.” you huff. suguru rolls his eyes, sighing. 

“let me make something clear for you. i take curses. this isn’t about my caring heart, like it is for those girls. so i can help you, or you can walk away.” he gestures to the ottoman for you to sit on. 

he’s weird, you think. it’s hard to get a read on him. these phrases–monkey, curses, none of it makes sense to you. why is he in a market to take whatever these curses are? and how did you end up with one? “curses? are those like. ghosts or something?” you ask, arms still folded as you sit. irregardless of his behavior, this feeling you’ve been going through for months is wearing down your body, mind, and soul. everything hurts, all of the time. your head, neck, spine, stomach, hips—if it’s there, it hurts. your emotions have been so out of whack, so depressed and unable to eat, calling out of work and never meeting up with your friends. you need that to end. you’ve dealt with creeps before, certainly this one would be manageable too. 

“is that what you think you’ve been dealing with?” he asks, watching you go through a myriad of thoughts all at once. the question seems genuine, the earlier lilt of arrogance dialed back to a tolerable level. 

you’re still suspicious, he can see as much. “monkeys don’t see curses like we do. i would imagine you told yourself that these strange things have a perfectly reasonable explanation.” he explains, almost empathetic if it weren’t for that damned ‘nickname’ that you have a feeling is more a slur than an endearment. 

“i suppose, yeah. just thought i was getting sick, but it didn’t fade. my doctor said i have migraines, that’s it…” you hum, still well guarded as you converse with him. 

“i am sure you do. curses vary in function, the one attached to you is slowly corrupting your brain, which affects everything else. think…parasite, less ghost.” he waves his hand over your face, moving over your shoulder. he’s not actually touching you, but the threat lingers close enough to set you on edge. “you’ll feel it release from you slowly.” 

he watches the black cloudy essence crush the curse into nothing but a black orb for him to consume. his gaze bounces back to your face, the surprise and relief melting into your features like the sun dipping below the trees changes the palette of the sky. 

you can feel it, the physical weight coming off of your shoulders, but the lightness is ultimately in your head and soul—so much negativity and evil sucked from your consciousness so drastically you lose yours, body going limp and tipping off the small ottoman you were sitting on before suguru can even toss the orb aside. 

he can’t explain it exactly, add it to the list of things he struggles to understand, but he reaches out, strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you from toppling into the floor. he’s seen many monkeys have an abject reaction to being unburdened. he hypothesizes that the excess cursed energy seeping into their own causes a chemical issue in the brain, too much to process at once. however many monkeys he’s seen pass out or vomit, he’s never felt…obligated to do anything to aid them. he did his part, curing them of their ailments. his work is done, and he can be hailed as a savior by people that really have no idea how much he hates them. he’s never even touched one–a monkey–spraying perfume even after a close encounter lest he taint his superior being. 

but now he has, and it doesn’t burn his skin like he’s convinced himself it might. he doesn’t recoil as you slump against his abdomen, and it pisses him off. this is so entirely unlike him he can hardly stand it–as he knows he will have a lengthy conversation with the moon about it this evening–yet you have such a peaceful face as you sleep. long lashes, soft lips parted just to breathe, completely softened. it’s like his heart hiccups as he drapes you over his shoulders, walking into a well furnished guest bedroom in the geto estate. 

the girls trail him as he walks with you, equally confused. suguru lays you across the bed, looking over you with another little hum. you’re big trouble for him, and he can feel that seep into his head. he’s never found a monkey girl beautiful. he’s never found any monkey tolerable at all since the start of his cult. but there is this sneaking feeling that he will be lonely again when you leave, likely tomorrow as soon as you realized you were still here. the girls nearly feel like they’re interrupting something as they watch their geto-sama peer over you much like the prince longs after sleeping beauty before he wakes her. 

he turns to them abruptly, collecting his mess of thoughts, “put her in sleeping clothes,” he walks passed them, “and don’t bring any more women to my house.” he purses his lips, leaving them with you. 

beyond himself, he instructs the rest of his family and staff to treat you well. he doesn’t…want them to run you off. for whatever reason. they each give him puzzled looks, but no one dares forget their place by asking him questions about these things. he feels…bothered on his walk back to his room. the night has set in well now, the sky just a black expanse–sparkles of life along the stars leading into the only beacon of light now; the moon. 

suguru has always felt a sort of connection to the moon, he read a poem once, when he was still in high school, and it left its mark, he supposes. the poem comes back to him now, as he crosses his legs over the tatami mat by the window, a divine sense of aloneness surrounds him. 

thou silver deity of secret night,

direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;

thou conscious witness of unknown delight, 

the lover’s guardian, and the muse’s aid!

by the pale beams i solitary rove,

to thee my tender grief confide;

serenely sweet you glid the silent grove

my friend, my goddess, and my guide…

he knows he isn’t physically alone, but his own mind feels like a monster he’d like to leave–a place he can’t possibly make sense of. a battlefield of hypocrisy and guilt and the growing feeling that no one will ever possibly understand him. satoru was as close as he had gotten–and suguru left him behind. he thinks that’s the worst part, that this is all of his own doing. the moon…the moon understands the loneliness, the complexities he can’t bare to anyone else. the moon could forgive his transgressions, his crimes, his feelings. she has heard them all before, no doubt, but he has something new to bring to the table. this burning in his veins, the heavy weight of sin. he was presented with the most beautiful girl that has ever been, surely ever would be, and by his own laws he cannot have her. he cannot indulge in this…silly crush. yes. silly little crush–and that’s all it will be.

the next morning, you wake to the smell of coffee and some sort of meat being cooked. you can hear the girls laughing, the sounds of others in soft communication–the voice of the last person you remember.

oh no. 

there’s a dull ache in the back of your head as you recount the events of last night, sitting up with an ease you haven’t experienced in months. you could sob in relief if it weren’t for the unknowns of your situation—if you were free to leave or now some monkey hostage to the man that took gentle care of you last night. you’re not wearing your clothes–and that sends a jolt of panic through you instantly. did he undress me? is that…all he did? you wonder, examining yourself. 

the girls knock–there’s two sets of knocks, anyway. they don’t wait for a reply, letting themselves in. “good morning! i hope the pajamas we picked are comfortable enough.” nanako smiles brightly, treating this as a slumber party instead of a curse intervention. 

that soothes you little, at least the strangely beautiful creep didn’t change your clothes himself. “come to breakfast!” mimiko adds, a bit shyer than her sister but just as big of a fan. they met you at a coffee shop one day, and since then you have made it a point to sit with them. they’re sweet girls, and even under these weird circumstances you don’t find yourself questioning that. 

“i don’t think i’m hungry.” you reply, stretching a bit, looking around the room. it was a big one, and you didn’t sleep on a futon like this geto-sama did. if he expects a warm thank you, he’s severely mistaken. “what was he talking about, monkey?”

“oh, that’s what he calls non-sorcerers.” nanako replies, sitting at the edge of your bed. and instead of that answering your question, it just gives you a million more. 

“you said sorcerer? like harry potter?” you laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. how come this is your first time hearing of such a thing?

“not quite,” mimiko giggles softly. 

“some people are born with techniques. a certain set of powers that they can use to exorcise curses. everyone has cursed energy, even monke–i mean non-sorcerers, but their ce is usually what makes curses, born from the negative emotions that non-sorcerers experience.” nanako explains the gist. 

“so…monkey is a slur.” you raise a brow, really just confirming something you already knew. it made…enough sense. you felt the curse first hand, and felt the weight of its removal. 

“mm…yeah. geto-sama has fostered a..hatred for them, i suppose.” 

that sends a chill through you. hatred. what a strong word. 

“but don’t worry, geto-sama won’t hurt you. you’re making him weird. which is kinda a good thing?” mimiko offers, her smile gentle and calming. 

“just come get breakfast and coffee, you’ll have a good time.” nanako picks up your hand, pulling lightly. “you’re not kidnapped, we just wanna make sure you’re healthy! geto-sama said you passed out after he removed the curse.” 

you purse your lips in annoyance. you don’t exactly want to test the limits of this geto guy’s hospitality, especially on the heels of the revelation that he hates you—your kind–simply because you are different. you let the girls bring you to the dining room, where you see a…nice scene of people gathered around a table sharing a meal. 

“you’ve outdone yourself once again, boss!” a blond haired man says, fondly clapping the aforementioned boss on the back. he smiles at the expression of affection, chuckling his thanks. despite what you know of him, you can’t find him ugly. he is a beautiful man, soft features used sharply, long sleek hair and kind eyes, even as he looks up at you. 

“ah, our guest. please, sit.” he hums, nodding to you. he pulls out a chair, settling your spot between the women of the house. he hopes that will make you feel a bit more comfortable. you hesitantly sit, still staring at him like he was the ghost you thought haunted you. 

suguru is nothing if not intuitive and observant. you’re weary of him, and he cannot fault you for it. 

he makes your plate, and asks you how you take your coffee. you notice there’s no difference in how he treats you as opposed to the other people at the table. like you had been here the entire time and would continue to be, like he was familiar with you. he asks your name, and calls you by it—information he could have gotten from the girls. it’s a weird juxtaposition from everything you just heard. he hates you–why did he help you? he hates you–why did he make sure you slept comfortably in a bed and have your coffee just the way you want it? you aren’t able to eat much, head too preoccupied and yet hyperfocused on your surroundings. you can play nice to get out, and then this would be no issue at all. you smile at him sweetly and give him small nods of thanks, but are otherwise silent and avoidant of anything more. 

even your small smiles make his heart clench and relax like it’s spasming, and he almost wants to keep you here in his house until he can figure out why. 

but no, this is a silly crush. he needs to get you away from him, and then he will return to normal. that’s all it is. but as the girls ask when you’ll meet up next, and you respond with such warmth—such forgiveness for them even if you don’t trust him, you remind him of the moon. 

and he can’t let you go. 

you don’t take this well. you’re a fierce woman, that he knew, but also quite petty. you refuse to come out of your room or speak to him, and after one day of him bringing meals to your room, you’ve decided to keep it locked. 

you feel numb. completely at will of this man you don’t know—outside of the fact that he loathes you. maybe this is his game, his sick fun derived from jailing up ‘monkeys’ and keeping them here until he grows tired of them. some days, you hear screams from a distant hall, and you find yourself tearing up wondering if you would be next. 

he knocks on your door at the same time he always does, not even bothering to check the handle after a couple days of this same routine. he calls your name, sighing softly against the wood that separates you two. he knows it’s another flaw on a long list of them, his selfish desire to keep you. but he won’t punish you for your reactions no matter what you do or say. he’s willing to accept them if he has a chance with the moon. 

“go away.” you say, exhaustion clear in your tone. 

“i know you’re upset with me. but you haven’t eaten in two days. i want to give you space, but i will break the door down if you don’t willingly open it.” he says, the threat not thinly veiled in the slightest. 

you decide that letting him in temporarily is better than having no door at all, so you get up to unlock it. he waits a moment, understanding your anger for him. then he lets himself in, coming to sit at the end of your bed. he places the tray of food on your table—enough to last you for a few days if you decide not to allow him in again. 

“have you slept?” he asks futilely, licking his teeth when you don’t answer. the answer is clear enough, yet he waits for one, looking over you. you’re still beautiful, even if sleep deprived. “i wouldn’t hurt you. surely you understand that by now.”

“uh, you’ve locked me in your house–i don’t trust you for shit.” you hiss, eyebrows furrowed in an adorable pout he might appreciate if the situation weren’t so grisly. 

“you aren’t locked in here, i have acres of land that you could explore. you choose not to.” he replies, tilting his head to one side so he can still see your pouting face as you turn it away from him. 

“yeah bet you’d like it if i did, sack of shit.” you grumble, shaking your head, “just so you can hunt me down and put me in your torture chamber?”

he widens his eyes, surprised by the accusation. “hardly, that seems too high effort for my interests.” 

you roll your eyes. this is not the time for jokes. “i’m glad you think this is funny.” 

“i don’t, it’s quite troubling.” he admits, folding his arms as he thinks a bit. “i tend to get myself in a bit over my head.” 

“tch, clearly.” you fold your arms too, a pouting standoff. “thought you hate monkeys? what’s the point of keeping me here if this isn’t fun for you?”

“you remind me of the moon.” he replies with full earnest, eyes glossed over with a certain…truth to them that you couldn’t deny, despite every bone in your body telling you to.

“what does that even mean?” you groan, trying to stave off a little bit of blushing. god, now i’m developing stockholm syndrome, you think as you roll your eyes yet again, dismissing the possibility.

he smiles, like he did that day at breakfast what feels like forever ago. it’s almost childlike. “it means you bring me a comfort. for some reason. i have hated non-sorcerers for nearly seven years now—it’s a story i will tell another time. but you…you’ve made me acknowledge some things that deep down i already knew. hating non-sorcerers was the easiest way to deflect on the bigger issues.” 

you want to quip something witty and mean, but he looks out of the window passed you, his mind and deep brown eyes somewhat distant. “i can’t explain why, for i do not really understand it myself. that’s…why i have kept you here. i was hoping to figure out what it is about you that…challenges every thought i have.” 

you chew your lip, some part of you seemingly understanding the emotion he shows you, but the other parts of you still don’t trust it. 

“then who was screaming? i heard screaming.” you fold your arms, raising a brow. 

“oh, that was a sparring session with the girls. they’re just very very dramatic–and my curses are scary.” he hums, “my technique isn’t like theirs. it’s not a set power, more like the capacity for a lot of power. that’s what i meant when i said that i take curses, the day i met you. i consume them, and can redeploy them at will. they function under my orders, but not all of them are scary.” 

“i can’t see them anyway, it doesn’t matter.” you narrow your eyes, debating on trusting that answer. 

“i haven’t held a meeting since you’ve been here. you keep my hands full even if i wished to hunt down monkeys, as you so gracefully put it.” he adds, seeing the distrust in your gaze. it was more the the fact that suguru simply hadn’t wanted to harvest more curses, only accepting donations from his rich sorcerer boosters to take care of missions that couldn’t be trusted in normal society. the idea of harming someone has become unsavory almost overnight–your very presence proving that non-sorcerers had plenty of potential and use in this world. you are lovely, smart, and warm. funny even if you’re upset, and indescribably beautiful. 

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you assert, reaching for one of the snacks he brought in. he fights a smile. it seems you are feeling better, if you’ll eat. 

“not necessarily. i realize simple words can only go so far.” he says wisely, he’s felt that way before himself. i'm sorry and oh i feel so bad, it doesn’t mean anything if nothing changes. 

so he will change. 

that night he talks with the moon again, hoping to her that you will permit him in again tomorrow, and the day after that if he is lucky. he wants so badly to absolved of his sins, to be free of the guilt heavier than the curse he found you with. but the moon in all her glory, she truly can’t speak. she cannot do that for him, his little moon would. 

the days flow a bit easier after that. you keep your door unlocked, though you still don’t venture out like he had hoped. you’re still angry—you’ve been kidnapped–but you are slowly becoming accustomed to the day to day. suguru brings you a rotation of books, since you won’t go out to the library yourself. you told him you like poems, and he almost felt his heart soar like the pathetic love interest in a rom-com meant for idiot teenagers. 

so he brings you a book of poems, and invites you to the gazebo on the lake to read them. you don’t know why, but you accept the offer. 

“i just think poetry reads so well against a beautiful backdrop.” he smiles, an expression you’ve come to recognize as genuine. “i won’t bother, don’t worry.” he adds, tucking the well-worn book into your hands. it must be a favorite of his. his hands are big, so big his fingers touch yours in the exchange. it was incidental, but both hearts are fluttering from the contact. 

“i’ll give it a read, yeah.” you nod slightly, giving him a genuine smile of your own. he has learned the difference between them. so suguru is pleased enough to hear your answer, and he retreats to his room as promised. the window he loves to stare from has a good look of the gazebo, and as the sun sets upon it, he finds himself watching you instead of the backdrop for once. 

the gazebo is a beautiful spot. you have to walk along a small bridge across the lake to get to it, patterned benches with cozy pillows and an arrangement of candles on side tables, flames flickering slightly in the breeze. the lake is starting to ice over as winter creeps near, but you’re dressed for the occasion. best you can tell, geto is rich. he took your clothes with him to the mall to get your sizes, and now you’re the owner of multiple luxury handbags and fur coats, too expensive jumpsuits and whatever else your mind could drum up. needless to say, you’re prepared for the cold. he had wanted you to go outside and explore, after all. 

you situate yourself on the couch, adjusting a blanket over your lap. the book opens with a slight creak to the wooden bindings, but the pages are beautifully cared for. it’s a collection of poems from different authors, and you’re captured by each one of them for different reasons. some about loss, love, sense of self. the beauty of poetry is truly that it is in the eye of the beholder, a personal interpretation as powerful as the poem itself. you flip to a dog eared page, the only one in the entire book. hymn to the moon, it’s called, and you feel a tingling in your gut–you know you must read it. 

thou silver deity of secret night,

direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;

thou conscious witness of unknown delight, 

the lover’s guardian, and the muse’s aid!

by the pale beams i solitary rove,

to thee my tender grief confide;

serenely sweet you glid the silent grove

my friend, my goddess, and my guide…

you’re…captured by it. it’s beautiful, your fingers gliding upon the page as if to feel what geto feels when he reads the same words. the moon, his confidant and guardian and aid, friend, goddess and guide. and you..you remind him of such an uncapturable essence, ethereal beauty. you almost forget everything he’s done from this act of romance alone—truly no one has ever been so..poetic. 

suguru watches you from his window, legs dangling over the side. you look even smaller than usual, buried under a blanket and a thick coat, but it only brings a smile to his face. the golden rays of the sun kiss his little moon on the the path behind the trees, casting a golden glow around you that genuinely makes you look like an angel. he observes you like this until you catch him—your gaze drifting up to the window. he smiles at you softly, getting up to go make dinner. 

you come back inside when you cannot stand the cold any longer, taking off your coat by the door. suguru is setting the table, you wouldn’t think he was the head of the household based off of these actions alone, the rest of the family sitting and chatting happily. 

“oh! geto’s pet monkey, welcome!” miguel says, chuckling as if that was the funniest thing in the world. your face falls, it feels like everything that you had learned about geto had become untrue. if his family would speak to you like that–how are you being spoken of when you’re not close enough to hear? you’ve been a fool to think that you alone can shift a man’s entire worldview in just a few short weeks. 

you’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a loud smack, and a grunt that follows. you realize that miguel is rubbing his cheek, an absolutely shocked expression on his features. suguru is leaned in to his face—and if he had ever looked menacing to you, he puts that to shame now. his eyes are glowering with anger, cheeks red just from emotion alone. 

“i have no pets, but if you keep it up i will make you one.” a low growl sound to his voice that puts everyone in the room on edge. he stands straighter, looking to larue and manami. “any shared expressions of doubt?” 

“well, geto-sama, she is a non-sorcerer girl and we don’t understand why you are so taken with her–” manami starts, clearly not understanding that the question was extremely sardonic. 

“excellent, get out.” he remarks simply, beckoning you closer by pulling your seat out from the table. “both of you. i don’t want to see such pathetic people. i thought my family gathered for me, and trusted my leadership. ideals change—people seldom do. if you’re not willing to accept her as someone i cherish, then i would not share space with you.” he hums, plating up food for you, and then the girls, and then larue. as miguel and manami sit there, confused—he looks around in amazement. “must i repeat myself?”

“we’re sorry, geto-sama, we didn’t mean to offend–” miguel starts, eyes shifting side to side. 

“no, that’s exactly what you meant. you two are jealous, and i have no room for that in my home.” he says, jaw clenching. “so remove yourselves. before i do it for you.” 

you are bewildered. in the days that you’ve spent with suguru, you’ve learned that this found family of his is of the utmost importance, all people that have sworn their loyalty to him. to see him dismantle them in front of you—for you—is something that never crossed your mind. 

to question him is a disgrace to the trust that they have built, the way he sees it. to belittle someone he clearly cares about right in front of him–he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t do it again when he wasn’t around. and without trust, there is nothing. that’s what makes him work tirelessly for yours. it is the cornerstone of love, and the pinnacle of a bond. 

the two of them leave, and their absence is not dwelled upon. suguru will not miss people who disrespect you–and by definition, him. the girls are excited to have more time to talk about themselves anyhow. you eat, listening to them talk and every so often throwing in your own comments and opinions–which suguru admires–and you find yourself a lot more comfortable in his presence as time passes. 

as the weeks tick by, suguru grows on you more and more. he’s already captivating—a beautiful and strong man, one with questionable sanity, clearly, but one that cares for you. that much is clear. he starts spending more time in your room, as you force him to endure your k-dramas—he just simply won’t admit that he likes them, but he certainly does ask a lot of questions for someone who couldn’t be bothered—and even letting him lounge with you as you play videogames or read in silence. it is comfortable. you notice how good he smells, the body heat that seems to radiate from him always. you notice crinkles by the corner of his eyes that weren’t there a few months ago. you find yourself falling asleep against him, his hand finding your hip as you lay together and talk. you have such a wealth of knowledge, a perspective on life he has come to adore. you think differently, and it challenges his way of thinking too, for the better. he eventually tells you the tale of how he became a monkey hater, and never presents it as if you should feel sorry for him or even really empathize with the situation. 

but you do. and you have such a way about you, a way of understanding without condoning his mistakes. you don’t react with disgust or fear, like you really should, because the months that you’ve spent with him have shown you the person he is inside, and now who he’s becoming outside. you trust that growth. there have been no cult meetings—the only screams those of joy as he spars and chases the girls around with various curses. he has stood up for you and honored every boundary you have made, even though he really doesn’t have to. he knows he can’t possibly compensate for the damage he has done, but he hopes to atone. to be lighter, after telling you this. 

you reach your hand out for his face, your touch so light and gentle he knows he doesn’t deserve it. and you look at him as if he didn’t just admit all of the terrible crimes he’s committed for selfish reasons, for his own tortured soul. you look at him with forgiveness. 

“and this is why you are my little moon.” he remarks, resting his hand on yours. 

do not be remiss, you are not suguru’s keeper. when your grandmother fell ill, suguru traveled with you to see her, investigating to ensure she had the best care there was to be had and paying nurses under the table to get the matriarch better food. he sits there, day and night with you, urging your parents to go home and get some rest. urging you to sleep on the cot and he would stay up and make sure that the nurses do their job, he’s very bossy like that. he’s very intuitive as always, so on days you feel like nothing—he makes sure he turns it into something. even if it is something as small as dinner in your room with him so you don’t have to sit with everyone else, letting you be as distant or as close to him as you need to be. he always knows just what to say, just how much pressure to hold you with, always offering a night out or a bath and massage at the perfect times. 

he knows you. very well. and he loves you. very much. 

then, he finally kisses you. when he feels the moment come, as you name stars for him under the gazebo, the need to hold your face and press his lips against yours it too much to resist. so he doesn’t. his long fingers cup your chin, but reach all the way to your jaw. he turns your face, and he’s already so close you can barely process your heartbeat jumping up into your throat as his lips crash onto yours, the passion of which you’ve never experienced before. spring has warmed the evening air, but you still lean into his warmth–hands pulling him closer until his hair tickles your shoulders. you feel the rumble in his chest as he hums, tilting his head to deepen the connection, his warm tongue sliding over your bottom lip to ask permission for more. 

you let him, feeling a bubbling spark in your stomach that cannot be ignored. his scent wafts into all your senses, his hands sliding down to your thighs to pull you into his lap. he breaks the kiss to let you breathe, and with all the intention of stopping there—but the needy look in your eyes quickly snaps any resolve he has left. oh this is a look he will remember even with dementia in his old, bedridden days. “tell me that i can have you.” he whispers, his mouth pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw and neck, the desperation clear in the way his hands tremble on your waist. you nod, mouth parting as his saliva on your skin sets your nerves ablaze, but he just nips sharply. “with words…”

“you…you can have me, suguru...” you reply, breathless from the casual dominance he exerts, his semi tucked against your ass. he smiles with your gleeful agreement, sliding you back onto the bench, pressing against you until he’s over you completely, giving you another series of lengthy kisses, suckling your bottom lip in between forcing his own tongue into your mouth for you to suckle back. his hands make quick work of his own robes–his physique bared to you. he’s so big—so strong, every muscle ripples as he tosses the clothes over his shoulder, his lips swollen and glossy and eyes lust-blown black. when his fingers curl under your shirt—you remember you’re on the gazebo in the middle of the lake, has he no shame? 

as if on cue, he shakes his head, tilting your chin down to look at him. “this is my lake, no wandering eyes.” he promises, kissing up your exposed stomach in a path to your breasts, removing your shirt entirely. he smirks excitedly. “no bra? has my little moon been so eager without my noticing?” 

you feel your breath hitch with every press of his lips, the open air kissing you just as gently as he does. his hand slides down, cupping your waiting heat over your shorts, a little growl of excitement slipping past his lips as he leans over for a nipple, swallowing up your pert bud with fast flicks of his tongue, eyes aimed upward to get your reactions. 

you gasp shakily, shoulders writhing from his knowledgeable touches, the sensation on your nipples alone has you clenching around nothing. he swaps to the other side, letting his fingers toy with the slickened tissue, grinning mischievously up at you. “i know i certainly have been. you’re so tempting…” his chest heaves, the rough edge to his usual gentle tone only making your pussy pang harder. 

then his fingers are hooking in your shorts and underwear, pulling them off in one graceful motion. “oh goddamn..” he sighs, his fat thumb sliding over your clit and down the lips, truly just admiring his sweet pussy. 

“stop that~” you blush, embarrassed from his words, the adoration is clear enough in his face for you to know he isn’t teasing, but so is the sternness that you’re used to. 

“shhh, don’t tell me how to worship my little moon.” he smirks, dragging his slickened thumb across his tongue slowly, keeping your eyes on him. he groans audibly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “we’re going to have a problem.” he slides back, leaning his head between your legs. his long hair tickles the insides, a needy warm breath fanning over your slick heat. he latches onto your clit, purring like a cat. 

heat flushes through your cheeks, your stomach does flips from the feeling, the tip of his tongue pushing back the hood so he gets full access to your raw nerves underneath, the sensation nearly making you drool. he spells his name against you, two fat fingers poking at your hole. 

“ah-hah–” you gasp, the stretch of just his fingers is enough to earn filthy moans, and he can’t wait to cram his cock into this wet, welcoming cavern. it makes him twitch before he’s even freed himself, mouth hard at work as he slowly slides his digits in and out. you’re clenching around them, grabbing the cushions close to your body to ground you. he takes that as a good sign, flattening his tongue into kitten licks on your clit, watching it swell from his eager attention with a smirk. those noises, your gasps and moans and your tugging on his hair—it’s just going to ensure he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

his fingers speed up, curling into the spot that makes you see stars as if he’s done this a million times before, like he has the map to your pleasure. your eyes roll back, and you choke out a cry of his name, chased with, “daddy daddy please—oh–” before you’re completely done for, pussy shuddering around his fingers that sends you muttering pleas for him to stop, fingers pumping you through the earth shattering feeling he gives you. his cock has its own heartbeat, and he has to free him–suckling remnants off his fingers like it’s his life’s water. he’s pulling his pants down, breathing heavy as he stares at you so perfectly splayed out and pre-ruined for him. 

you can hardly catch your own breath, his gaze pinning you still. he’s so intense, such a puzzle of emotions swirling in his dark eyes; love, excitement—something a little darker. the all consuming need to feel you wrapped around him. his cock springs free, slapping his toned abs, leaving a dribble of precum sliding down them. he’s so big, yet again–so girthy and perfectly angled to hit every single spot inside you, angry veins running along the shaft leading into a leaky red tip. it steals whatever breath you have left, but he won’t give you much time to doubt yourself. his hands scoop under your thighs, pulling you down the couch—legs draped over his arms as he bottoms out inside you, all in under a second. your vision blacks out, white sparkles flaring like a staticky television. you’re so so full, you can feel him in your throat, you think. he waits, the mercy a small reprieve at the end of his grace. he’s been far too patient, waiting for you to love him back all of this time. “god, you’re so perfect.” he shakes his head in disbelief, thumb again dragging around your clit to help you acclimate to him easier. 

“so beautiful, so warm, my little moon. so mine.” the last bit comes out in his signature low rasp, his hands wrapping to the top of your thighs as he starts to move. your vision hadn’t fully returned to you, your head so light you wonder if there’s still a brain up there. you thought this would be the pinnacle of your pleasure, until you feel the veins of his cock stroking against your walls like he was designed to fit in there, his eyes closing in a moment of bliss. you’re perfect. he’s never told a lie, and he wouldn’t start now. his hips roll slowly, leaning back a bit so he could watch how you swallow him up so well. he knows it’s a tall task, but you were built for him specifically—of course you’re taking him brilliantly. “fuck—feel the way you’re squeezing me?” 

“nghhh, daddy—so big!” you manage, tongue lolling out a bit as you struggle to speak at all. “feels–s’good–!” 

he chuckles fondly, reaching for your hands to hold, intertwining fingers. that provides him new leverage, fucking into you at the same time as he pulls you into it, brushing against your cervix in a way that makes himself moan nearly as loud as you do, squeezing your hands every time he reaches the hilt. “but you’re taking daddy so well, little moon. you feel so good..” 

you’re wrapped around him like a vice, and his cock jumps inside you as he leans in closer, needing to swallow up those delicious moans, kissing at your open mouth as your breaths mingle together, a soft chorus of skin meeting skin and needy pants. you feel split open and sewed back together for him, the pleasure far outweighing any pain from taking someone so huge. his sweet kisses to your mouth and face remind you that he’s got you, that he will take care of you–and your pussy is sent to fluttering spells again—the thread stretching dangerously thin. 

“mm, i feel it too, darling. i feel it too—cum for me. show daddy how much you love it.” his hair drapes around your face, like a curtain of darkness, building a world between just the two of you. looking up into his wildly proud eyes snaps that thread, and your head is shaking—powerful screams of his name reigning supreme. his head falls back to drown in that, to drown in you entirely. the way you sound, the way you feel, the way you smell—he’s addicted to it all. he erupts inside, cock jumping against your tight walls, still fluttering from aftershocks. he rolls his hips slowly, letting you feel the hot ropes of his seed decorating your insides, only stopping when he’s afraid you may have passed out, your mewls and whimpers so soft. “that’s it…that’s my good girl~” 

you clench around your connection just from the praise, nodding eagerly. he smiles, leaning over with more kisses and gentle touches, your old shirt recycled into your cleaning cloth, catching the mess as he slides out of you with an audible loss of suction around him. he kisses along your collarbones, pecking the bends of your knees, ankles—he’s everywhere and it feels so good you could fall asleep right here, wiped of any energy and most likely the ability to walk on your own. “my little moon, you are perfection..i love you endlessly.” he hums, tucking his robes around you, letting you lay against him under the cooling night sky. he’s in no rush to go inside, the moment so perfect. he can hear your breaths slow, feel you nestle as close to him as you physically can be, your little groans and whines music to his ears. he pets down your back, drawing shapes against the light sheen of sweat coating you with a content heart and smile. 

he looks up to the moon, “i can wear a genuine smile now.” he says aloud, pressing more kisses to your face until he takes you to his bedroom for an expertly timed bath and massage, as always.

[please-destroy]

Afterglow

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended. Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You’d only been hired as her assistant a month ago, but you knew it wasn’t nothing.

.

You didn’t meet her in person until after you’d gotten the job. 

At your interview, conducted over zoom, Scarlett Johansson had explained her skin-care line would be launching before the end of the year. She’d detailed the lengthy list of job responsibilities with an edge to her voice. Even through the screen, you’d caught the challenge in the tilt of her chin. 

The unspoken dare. If it was too much for you, back out now.

You only smiled.

‘I’d love the opportunity.’ You told her sincerely.

Scarlett’s eyebrow raised. For a moment, you thought you saw a sparkle of humour in her eye. Then, the tension returned.

‘I’ll be in touch.’ She told you, ending the call before you could respond again.

The job contract, the NDA and the practicalities of relocating for your new job took two weeks. 

.

There was something Scarlett did not mention on the phone. 

You knocked on her door on the first day. 

You’d already been let through security checks at the gate. You knew you were expected.

Scarlett opened the door. 

You were anticipating her to be very tired, exhausted even. Scarlett was currently on a virtual press tour for her new movie. 

You were not expecting her to be so.

Pregnant.

Scarlett’s face was smooth, except for subtle lines of tension around her eyes. She waited, holding the door ajar, daring you to comment. 

You glanced at the cardboard boxes lining the hallway behind her. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, feeling your senses come back to you. 

You followed Scarlett through to her own kitchen. Even walking behind her, you felt in awe. You savoured the moment out of her sight to let the shock of her pregnancy run through you.

No-one knew.

You’d been watching her press junket interviews for the past few days, calling it work prep. There had been no indication. No hint at all.

You tried to wipe your expression blank again when Scarlett next turned to face you. The same warning was written across her face. You let a belated congratulations die in your throat.

‘I have a busy day.’ She told you in a tight voice. ‘I have video interviews scheduled back to back.’

You gave a silent nod. Scarlett gestured to yet another taped cardboard box sitting on her kitchen counter. 

‘I need to move him out.’ She continued. 

You kept your face frozen. Colin Jost, your mind supplied helpfully. You’d been researching your boss, more work prep.

‘I need you to move him out.’ Scarlett corrected herself. She gave you an assessing look. Disappointment swirled in her eyes as she took in your stunned reaction.

You snapped back to the moment. 

‘Of course.’ You murmured, trying to calm your reeling mind. You moved over to the kitchen counter and the box.

Scarlett stepped away from your advance automatically, heading over to the door. 

The distrust in her body language trickled over you. You blushed in embarrassment.

‘The NDA.’ She reminded you bluntly, voice rasping. 

‘The iron clad one I signed?’ You asked, voice too innocent.

For a moment, a hint of humour sparkled in Scarlett’s eye. Exhaustion cut through it quickly. 

‘I’ll be back later.’ She told you evenly, before she left the room.

When she was gone, you nearly had a panic attack. 

Standing alone in her kitchen, staring at a box of her ex’s belongings. 

Scarlett Johansson was beautiful. You closed your eyes and knew she was embedded in your brain. 

It didn’t matter. 

The box was heavy as you lugged it through to sit with the others in the hallway. You walked through her house numbly, searching out more cardboard boxes. You avoided only the room that you could hear her laughing in. You found half a dozen more heavy boxes. 

Back breaking work on your first day should have been a red flag.

Still, you’d never had a pregnant boss before. You found yourself grateful that you’d been designated the task. You didn’t like to think of her doing it herself. 

You spent the next half hour pacing unsurely around the kitchen. At last, Scarlett came through at lunchtime. 

There was nothing subtle about her exhaustion or tension now. Her hair was tied back, it made her look drawn. 

A buildup of questions fell from your mouth before you could help it.

‘Can I get you something to eat? Who should I call about the boxes? Is there anything else I can do?’

Scarlett stared at you for a moment in the doorway. You watched her exhale in frustration. Alarm flared inside you.

‘I don’t have time for lunch. I have back to back interviews.’ She told you, voice simmering. ‘If it’s not in front of me right now, I don’t have time to eat it. I assumed that was clear.’

An apology caught in your throat as she unlocked and slid her phone across the now bare kitchen counter. 

‘He’s my last missed call.’ She told you bluntly. ‘Tell him to pick the boxes up.’

You nodded nervously, searching for the contact hurriedly. 

Scarlett moved to the fridge.

She stared at the contents with a kind of misery that told you how hungry she was.

Her expectation that you’d have known to prepare lunch was unreasonable, but you still felt awful.

‘I’m sorry.’ You squeaked out before she left again. 

Scarlett gave you a wry smile, it didn’t meet her eyes. 

‘I’m fat enough already.’ She shrugged, nodding down at the bump.

Your chest felt hollow with her joke, her final acknowledgement of the pregnancy. 

Colin Jost answered the call immediately. This was not surprising. There were fourteen missed calls from him on Scarlett’s phone. 

‘Scarlett.’ He sounded relieved. 

‘This is Scarlett’s assistant.’ You cut in immediately, not wanting there to be any confusion. 

You arranged for the boxes to be collected that afternoon by his own assistant. 

Impossibly, Colin had sounded tenser than Scarlett had. Guilt had dripped from his words and you didn’t want to imagine why.

.

You were dismissed when Scarlett next left her office. 

This time, you hovered at the foot of the stairs. Scarlett was notably ungainly as she walked down them, hand gripping the railing. 

Your heart caught in your mouth with a panicked premonition of her falling. Scarlett was very pregnant. Her centre of balance was clearly off. 

You moved to climb the stairs, ready to help before you could think it through. 

Scarlett froze midway down. 

Her eyes flashed dangerously at your presumption.

Cautiously, you backed down from the stairs.

‘My daughter will be home soon.’ She informed you, in the same blunt tone as earlier. ‘You can go now.’

You nodded silently, not admitting that you’d snuck a look at her schedule whilst her phone was unlocked. 

Scarlett gave a careful sigh then. You glanced up at her, still several steps above you on the staircase. 

‘I should have been more prepared for today.’ She admitted suddenly, shifting slightly with the discomfort of standing. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

‘Okay.’ You said simply, not sure where you stood at the end of your first day.

You left the house. You ignored curious texts from friends wondering about your new mysterious job. You ignored the fact that, all things considered, your new boss had not been fair to you at all.

Instead, you wished desperately that you’d been brave enough to insist on making her dinner.

That night in bed, you stared up at your ceiling, trying to imagine what the next day would bring.

The next morning, with not nearly enough sleep, you found out.

.

It did not take you long to become good at your job. If you were being honest, this was because you thought of little else.

Your job had two main parts. 

The things you were asked to do. 

The things you were not asked to do. 

You excelled at the first but you lived for the second.

Scarlett’s calendar was colour coded within the first week. You parsed through various scheduled appointments, altering as many as you could so they didn’t overlap with her time with her daughter. 

You didn’t expect recognition for it. You lived for the small smile Scarlett gave when she checked her phone and saw the afternoon clear yet again.

Her favourite lunch was chicken salad. Soon enough, you could’ve prepared it in your sleep. 

Scarlett never thanked you directly. 

You didn’t need her to. Her voice softened towards you. You thought about it at night. You thought about a lot of things you shouldn’t.

.

You never touched Scarlett. 

Not that you were expecting to. 

A flush crawled up your neck every morning just from looking at her. You couldn’t get used to being close to someone so beautiful.

But, you didn’t even touch Scarlett in passing. You brought her lunch up to her office every day. Every day, she would lean subtly away from you as you put the plate on her desk. 

You would hear her breath catch in discomfort. She radiated tension at your proximity.

You tried not to let it bother you. You hoped desperately that she couldn’t see your crush, even though it felt painted on your skin.

.

And then, one morning, Scarlett met you impatiently at the front door. Her hair was tied back neatly. You understood the visual clues immediately. She had a professional meeting scheduled soon. You remembered her talking about potential investors the day before.

‘I have a call this morning.’ Scarlett confirmed, matter of factly. ‘I’m already late and I need you to take notes.’ 

You nodded, eyes widening in surprise. This was not usual. Scarlett’s office door stayed shut for most of the day, and you didn’t disturb her when it was closed.

Scarlett turned to hurry up the stairs, making you immediately nervous. Your hand hovered secretly at the small of her back as you walked a half step behind her. 

She handed you a notebook when you reached her office. Her fingers dragged over the back of your hand. Scarlett went very still. You forgot to breathe. 

She turned back to her desk and you caught the pink flush to her cheeks.

Longing burned in the pit of your stomach. The back of your hand was seared with her fingerprints. 

When the call began, you sat to the side of her desk, just out of sight.

You realised quickly why Scarlett had implored you to sit in. Distracted didn’t cover it. She couldn’t sit still. You watched her fidget in her seat for thirty minutes, barely remembering to nod at the right moments. 

Your attention stayed on her as you wrote out your notes. 

Discomfort was to be expected. You tried to remind yourself that it was inevitable. Scarlett was only becoming more pregnant. 

You watched her subtle winces as she continued to readjust herself in the office chair. 

There was an inevitable date approaching that neither of you had discussed. Scarlett hadn’t confirmed a thing, but you were sure she had entered her third trimester now. 

The call ended at last. 

Scarlett’s focus turned to you immediately. 

‘I’m hungry.’ She informed you pointedly. Her words took you by surprise. She never acknowledged the meals you were preparing for her. She’d never commented about the dinners you’d begun to leave stacked in her fridge before you left.

‘Okay.’ You agreed, waiting for her to stand first. 

Scarlett looked back at you, impatiently. 

There was an awkward silence before you realised she wanted you to leave first. You exited quickly, staring at the floor in embarrassment.

.

It didn’t take long to prepare a snack in the kitchen. 

You focused on the task angrily, wishing you were brave enough to ask the questions that were burning inside you. 

You’d been in this job long enough now and still every conversation was stilted and formal. 

Scarlett was very cautious about what others could see. Nobody in her family even seemed to know she was pregnant. Or at least, no one was checking in. 

You could see the cracks in the cold facade of it all. The brief pain on her face when she rejected an incoming call. 

You wished you could see all of her, not just the cracks. 

The obvious discomfort you’d noticed today felt like the final straw.

.

Still, you watched her descend the stairs surreptitiously.

Every few steps, Scarlett paused and her eyes squeezed tight with pain. Once, she pressed her knuckles hard against the small of her back. 

You didn’t say anything when she entered the kitchen. 

Her eyes were determined, the challenge in the tilt of her chin always present. Her hands were carefully at her sides. She walked straighter than ever. 

You didn’t move away from the counter, blocking her path to the plate you’d prepared.

You tilted your chin in an imitation of her own expression. Irritation crossed Scarlett’s face as she met your gaze. After a moment, her hand moved subtly to press against the small of her back again. 

‘How can I help?’ You asked, quietly but firmly. Scarlett startled at your question.

You looked pointedly down at her hand.

‘It’s nothing.’ Scarlett defended.  Her hand dropped from her lower back. She stood straighter. You dropped your eyes to the floor at her tone, heat crawled up your neck.

It wasn’t nothing. 

You were getting sick of this. Renewed strength brought your eyes back up to meet hers. 

‘How can I help?’ You repeated your words to her calmly. You tilted your chin again in defiance, it was more demand than question.

You stared at each other for a long time.

Scarlett’s attention flitted to the snack that you’d prepared. Suddenly, it was her who was looking down at the ground.

You watched as the cracked pieces of her broke entirely. 

She stretched her hand out, leaning against the counter and relieving the pressure on her back.

‘Please.’ She whispered, admitting everything. 

You stepped forward. Your hand touched her back gently, unsurely. Scarlett’s breath hitched.

‘Lower.’ She whispered, something almost humiliated in her tone. 

You moved your hand obediently.

Scarlett moaned between clenched teeth when you found the spot.

Slowly, but surely, you pressed the heel of your hand against her back. 

Scarlett gave a strangled whimper, leaning automatically into your touch. You moved the pressure in a slow circle, trying to ease out the pain. 

Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand, muffling the noise. Her eyes were closed, but you saw a tear slip down her cheek.

When Scarlett turned around a few minutes later, she did not look like the woman you’d been working for. 

Defeat tangled with embarrassment in her expression. 

You watched her unsurely, not knowing what to say. 

Her voice cracked. 

‘I’m just so tired.’ She admitted, purposefully avoiding your stare.

.

Touching her now was easier. 

You took her hand, soft and warm in yours. It felt perfectly weighted. Gently, you led her to the sofa. 

Scarlett had never sat on it. Not whilst you were here. She gripped your arm suddenly as she lowered herself carefully down onto it. Shame tinted her cheeks pink. You understood abruptly that she would need a hand up from it too. 

Annoyance flared at her relentless stubbornness.

Scarlett exhaled shakily at the relief of a comfortable seat.

She looked over and caught the frustration written across your expression.

‘Y/N’ She murmured lowly, uncertainly. A shiver went down your spine at the way she said your name. 

‘You’re still hungry.’ You said quietly, getting back to your feet. Scarlett’s face burned with embarrassment as she watched you leave. 

When you returned, she was sitting as straight as she could on the soft sofa. Despite your frustration, it made your lips quirk upwards. 

You placed her plate down on the coffee table. 

You didn’t speak as she ate. Instead, you played nervously with your fingers. You tried to find the right words. 

You waited until you heard the plate thud back against the table. 

‘I want to take care of you.’ You whispered at last, staring at your hands. ‘I know it’s my job. But, I want to do it too.’ 

Scarlett didn’t speak. Your strange confession hung in the space between you.

Your skin tingled and your heart jumped erratically in your chest. You took a chance, glancing over at her. Scarlett’s eyes closed for a brief moment. You recognised the expression on her face. She was also trying to find the right words.

‘It always.’ She started unsurely. ‘It always goes wrong.’

Your head tilted in confusion. Scarlett gave a sad smile. 

You looked down at her belly and she followed your gaze. 

‘I’m sick of being disappointed.’ Scarlett’s voice caught, tangling with a raw pain. Her hand curved across her front. The action was stilted, as if her stomach was still unfamiliar to her. 

‘But, it’s me.’ She whispered, voice cracking open now. Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling, and you watched them fill with tears. ‘It’s always my fault.’

You wanted to help. An ache rippled through you.

You touched her leg. Scarlett froze.

She caught your gaze, and your intention too. 

She shook her head suddenly, you saw the tears slip down her cheeks.

‘Don’t pretend.’ She whispered now, almost begging. ‘Just, please, don’t pretend to care.’

‘I don’t know how.’ You murmured.

You leaned closer, giving yourself up to the want of her. 

Her lips were fuller than you expected. You could taste the salt on them.

Scarlett’s fingers were shaky as she touched the nape of your neck. 

Shivers rippled down your spine.

You kissed her harder and she responded in kind. 

Scarlett’s fingers tangled in your hair now. Her grip was sudden and tight. You felt her desperation in the curl of her fingers.

Blindly, you searched for her other hand, resting at her side. Already, the warmth of it was familiar. You held it tightly in yours, Scarlett exhaled slowly.

You leaned back to look at her. The flush of her cheeks doused you with affection and arousal. 

‘Scarlett.’ You said unthinkingly, enjoying the sound of her name on your tongue. 

She didn’t look up at her name, still focused on your lips. 

‘You’re perfect.’ She murmured, trailing a finger along your cheek and down the side of your neck. You wondered if she could feel your jumping pulse. ‘You’re not going to stay.’ 

Anger flared through you now. Indignity at being judged by other people’s mistakes.

You moved to kiss her collarbone harshly. Your teeth stung her skin as you nipped and sucked. Scarlett moaned into your ear. She fidgeted on the sofa as you left wet marks across her exposed skin. She grabbed at the sofa cushion to the side of her. 

‘I just want to help.’ You murmured determinedly, planting one last kiss just below her ear. Scarlett whined, her head tilting back.

You moved to kneel on the floor. 

You settled between her legs, fingers tugging down her pants. Everything felt predetermined. Maybe because you’d dreamed it. Maybe because it was always going to happen.

You looked up at her as you spread her legs. Scarlett was looking down at you, her pupils had dilated entirely. Everything felt right. You had wanted to be here for so long. 

You dragged your nails up her bare thighs. 

‘Thank you.’ Scarlett rasped and your heart clenched at the strange insecurity of it. You wanted to be here, you didn’t know how to tell her again.

Instead, you licked along her cunt. You could taste her already, coating your tongue. Scarlett couldn’t reach you from around her stomach. Your eyes flitted up to see her nails digging into the sofa cushion. Her head tilted back against the sofa, eyes closing.

She mumbled something quietly to herself. Annoyance continued to flicker inside you. You wanted to hear her.

You pressed your tongue hard against her clit and made her scream instead. 

When you were done. When she’d fidgeted against your wandering tongue. When you could taste the sweet tang of her in your mouth. When you would never think of anything else ever again. When she was trembling. You looked back up at her.

Scarlett’s hair was mussed, her mouth was parted as she panted. 

Scarlett was undone. 

You kissed her clit lightly, giving her one last aftershock before you slid her pants back up her legs. She acquiesced limply, still not quite in the room.

You sat beside her on the sofa, enjoying the weird domesticity of her afterglow. You rested your head against her shoulder feeling her chest move with each ragged breath. 

Your heart was still pounding beneath your ribs, trying to adjust to the new way the world was hung.

After a minute, you felt Scarlett tense again. You knew she was going to speak. 

‘What now?’ She asked bluntly, words purposefully calm. You lifted your head and read the challenge in the tilt of her chin. You knew instinctively that she was daring you to leave, readying herself for it even now. A strange, soft affection built in your chest. You realised that you would always win her dares.

You took her hand in yours. You weaved your fingers together and held tight. The warmth of her skin trickled inside you. 

You didn’t speak. Neither did she. 

You watched her thumb rub circles against your knuckles, enraptured.

.

(Some time later)

.

‘It won’t stop.’ Scarlett looked down at her phone cradled in her lap. Her voice was tight.

The phone buzzed in her hand, over and over as the news stories rolled in. You sat next to her, on the edge of her bed. You touched her very rounded stomach, still covered by the dress she’d worn to the earlier meeting. 

Even now, you found yourself hesitant to touch her, for so long she’d been your boss. 

Scarlett gave you a searing look. You weren’t sure if she regretted it. The public announcement of you. The personal assistant turned girlfriend. The implications for her, her sexuality, her career, her expected child. 

Her phone kept buzzing as more implications rolled in. You watched the headlines appear on the screen, one after another.

You watched Scarlett’s forehead crease with worry. Your stomach clenched, the moment felt unbearable.

You touched her shoulder, your fingers slipping under her sleeve. Her skin was warm. Scarlett’s breath caught. 

‘You’re all I think about.’ You told her, letting your mind cloud with familiar want. 

Scarlett’s lips parted. She watched you, something still unsure in her eyes. You scratched her skin lightly. Her eyes closed.

Her phone slipped in her grip and the buzzing became louder. Her gaze returned to it.

‘I can’t ignore everyone. It’s not polite.’ She snapped suddenly. 

With confidence you rarely had, you moved to stand in front of her. You pulled at the phone in her grip, Scarlett released it with unexpected obedience. Maybe she could see your mood better than you could feel it. 

You let the constant tug between your souls pull you forward. You leaned down, letting your lips find each other. You pressed yourself against her front, feeling her bump brush against you. 

The air was thick with anticipation. You slipped the vibrating phone beneath the skirt of her dress.

‘I have no interest in being polite or heterosexual.’ You whispered against her ear. Scarlett gave a soft cry and her hand twisted the fabric of your shirt.

You pressed the phone higher, letting it sit against the familiar cotton of her underwear. Scarlett moaned. She gripped your shoulder with sudden fierceness, holding you in place. 

You moved your fingers over the elastic of her panties, desperate to feel her. The vibrating phone stayed cradled against your palm, pressed to her.

Scarlett was slick against your skin. She started to whine, her neck falling back as she held you tighter. You kissed her neck, letting your teeth graze her skin.

Your fingers moved inside her with every vibration, Scarlett jolted against you. Her eyes were screwed tight, her cheeks flushed. She called your name, over and over. 

Her walls tightened around you at last and she screamed into the room. 

In the moments after, she lay back against the bed. You slid the dress up to kiss her exposed stomach. Scarlett’s breathing was still heavy as she reached for your hand, slipping her fingers between your wet ones. 

You kissed damp cotton and whispered a secret there, just to make her body twitch.