#but just NOW thinking more about and going hey... wait.....

[chosolar]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ wanna be yours!

gojo satoru x shy!femreader

part 1

mdni please! there are sexual themes.

flirty!satoru did his best to respect your wishes but he was losing his mind. with each day passing where he didn't hear from you, his overthinking got worse. what happened for you to distance yourself from him seemingly out of nowhere?

flirty!satoru refused to go out of his penthouse unless it was severely urgent. he would get his groceries delivered or ask either suguru or shoko to buy it for it. The two tried their best to get him to at least walk around his complex but satoru would drag his body weight, making it difficult to even get him up. it got to a point where shoko threatened him that she was going to tell you how disgusting he was being. (as mean as it was, it sure got the job done)

flirty!satoru had his phone basically glued to his hand. constantly refreshing his feeds and checking everyone's stories to see if you would be there in the background. it was his only solace, seeing you happy even if he did feel like he was there was a boulder on his chest that made him feel suffocated.

flirty!satoru who sat up instantly the millisecond he got your text. it didn't matter that it was 2 in the morning, he was responding to your message ASAP.

hey satoru I hope you're doing well. is it alright if I call you? 2:33 am

he replied with a quick "yes of course", and he didn't care if he sounded desperate, because well, he was. he's been waiting for you to reach out ever since he got that text a few weeks ago.

his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest, each heartbeat thumps harder than the previous. he watches as his phone lights up with your contact photo and name, the ringtone blasting. within the second ring, he picks up, greeting you with a shaky voice.

"hi satoru," he hears your nervousness through the phone. your voice is nasally and he can make out the soft sniffling, but he stays quiet. "how have you been?"

satoru contemplated on what to say. should he be honest, or should he lie and say that he was doing well without you?

"better now that I can hear your voice." his heart rate sped up as he hears you soft laugh, "how about you?"

you sigh before you answer. "I'm in a dilemma to be honest."

"wanna tell me what it's about?" he urges, hoping he'll get the answer he's been looking for. satoru puts you on speaker and lets his phone drop onto his bed, his full undivided attention on you.

"well it's about you... kinda," you drift off before you continue. "the night before I sent you that text, I was working and someone asked me out."

satoru pleads in silence that this was not going where he thinks it's going. with this anxious feeling creeping up on him again, he doesn't say anything.

his uncommon reticence worries you but you carried on with the story.

"I didn't go out with him if that's what you're thinking of. I like you too much to do that. it just had me thinking because we spent months being more than friends, but am I the only one who feels that way?"

"no of course not!" satoru retorts, "I promise that it's not one-sided. why do you feel this way?"

it took you a few minutes to gather your thoughts, but satoru doesn't rush you. he hears a shaky exhale before you speak up, "I've noticed that you're flirty with everyone. you're not shy with touching other people and it just makes me feel like maybe it's wrong of me to feel special when I'm not the only one you've done these things with..."

flirty!satoru doesn't invalidate your feelings. he acknowledges each and every reason why you feel the way you do. satoru takes his time explaining that yes, he may be flirty and he's quite touchy, but it's different when it comes to you. the things he's done with you, he's never done with anyone else despite him having exes. although it's almost been a year since he's met you, the butterflies have never gone away and that each day his feelings grow.

flirty!satoru continues listing all the reasons why he loves likes you. he assures you that he may look like a fuckboy, he's far from it. he reminisces the time he had suguru psych him up to get your number because he's never had to ask for anyone's number (humble brag from him). he exhales a sigh of relief that the story earned a giggle from you.

flirty!satoru debates on telling you, but decided on keeping his plans of asking you out a secret. he wanted to prove to you that you're it for him and that there's no one else but you. satoru's big on actions speaking a lot more than words, so before he asks you out, he wants you to feel secure.

flirty!satoru posts you on his story constantly!!! whether you're out on a grocery run or a mini road trip for the long weekend, you can always count on satoru posting a soft launch story that has you in it. you don't know it, but satoru also has a secret instagram account, and the only thing he posts on it are pictures of you with the dates on it and a small paragraph of what you guys did that day. he likes to think it's modern-day scrapbooking.

flirty!satoru is obsessed with calling you nicknames, and as much as he loves saying your name - he will never not love calling you sweet nicknames like pretty girl, honey, or baby. satoru's fond of how your cheeks turn red and how you try to cover your face when he calls you any nicknames. it gives him cuteness aggression so bad, he ends up pinching your cheeks!

flirty!satoru can see how your eyes drift to look at his lips when you're talking to him face to face. you think you're so slick with it but satoru's quicker. whenever you do that little triangle trick you saw on tiktok, he leans in so he catches you by surprise. he observes with gleaming eyes as you back up to give yourself distance from him, but he just wraps his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he says, "hmm what was that baby?"

flirty!satoru has to hold himself back whenever he sees a customer come up to you and try to flirt with you. first and foremost, flirting is his thing! and second, he gets so jealous that sometimes he can't contain himself and ends up intervening. he'd make some stupid excuse to get you to leave like "hey I think someone clogged the toilet, can you check it please?" or something like that. you have to clean the stinky toilet but seeing satoru jealous is always a plus.

flirty!satoru is shocked when you made the first move and kissed him one night. it was the fact that you were sober too that surprised him even further. with you on top of him as he's sitting relaxed on the couch, his attention on the tv screen is stolen when you press your lips against his. the kiss, a seemingly innocent peck on the lips, turned into a heated make out session when satoru let go of his inhibitions. his hands roamed all over your body as his lips continue peppering kisses onto your cheeks, your jaw, and even down to your neck. satoru trails his hands from your body to hold your face gently so he can give you a final kiss before hugging you tightly.

flirty!satoru throws out all his ideas of asking you out, and opts for an intimate moment. on a cool wednesday night, he takes you back to his penthouse as per usual. he opens the door and waits to see your surprised face. he boasts that he decorated the place all by himself and even burned himself a few times with the hot glue gun to make the giant heart sign asking for you to be officially his (ngl it sounds like he's proposing but I mean who doesn't wanna marry satoru). obviously you said yes! let's just say that the heart balloons that were hanging and the flower petals scattered all over his living room were everywhere the morning after and cleaning it all up was tedious...... (but at least it was a fun night!)

flirtybf!satoru immediately changes all his profile pictures on every social media he has to pictures with you. his bio? your initials. his stories? all of you. he does not gaf he wants to show you off! the best part is satoru only follows a couple of people — you, suguru, shoko, and a few of his close relatives. satoru wants you to know that he only cares about you and only you. he never wants to and never will make you feel like you're in competition with anyone.

flirtybf!satoru is a no bs type of guy. now that your relationship was out in the open, you've gotten so many dms from other people trying to sabotage your relationship. satoru did not spend almost half a year proving his love to you for some jealous losers to try and break it, so he blocked the people who dmed you from his account and privated it.

flirtybf!satoru loves going on vacations with you, especially if it's a destination you've been telling him about. he'll almost always keep it a secret so that you don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything. costs, booking it off, transportation, he takes care of everything so the only thing you need to do is pack your bags. satoru loves how carefree you are when you're away from everyone else, and it's just the two of you in your own little world.

flirtybf!satoru is insatiable. his sex drive is so incredibly high, you wonder where his stamina comes from since he rarely did any sports. the first time you had sex, he wanted to take it slow because he wanted to savour the time with you. even though you were close when you two were just friends, having sex was a different level of intimacy. satoru wanted to show you that to him, this was not just a fuck that a one night stand will give you, no. it was making love, and he'll spend the whole night — dusk to dawn — just to show you how much he loves each and every part of you.

flirtybf!satoru started working out during his free time. he overheard you telling your friends that you love a man with a sleeper build, and well whatever his love wants, you will get. it doesn't take long until he starts seeing the fruits of his labor. he seldoms wear a shirt when he's home with just you, choosing to just wear a pair of sweatpants that he doesn't bother tying up so you can see the waistband of his calvin klein boxers. even though you two fuck often, he thinks it's so captivating that you still get bashful whenever he's being coy with you.

flirtybf!satoru loves talking about the future with you. he'll often ask you what kind of house you see yourself living in with him, and he'll make sure to get every little detail you're telling him. you've already moved into his penthouse after he begged for days for you to leave your apartment and just live with him. he takes notice of how you decorate and makes a mental note of it. satoru will make sure to say "when we have kids" or "when we're married", because he knows you're his endgame and he just can't wait for the day he's been looking forward to since he fell in love with you.

flirtybf!satoru surprises you with a trip to your dream vacation that you guys didn't get to go to before. the weather was horrendous, so the flight was cancelled but satoru booked another one closer to your birthday. he didn't tell you about it because he had a plan to make your birthday extra special. after you were done packing, he tells you that he'll meet you in the car. before satoru leaves the penthouse and locks the door, he double checks that the engagement ring is packed securely in his bag.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi everyone! I hope this satisfies everyone's request for a part 2 ◡̈ ngl I had to use some moments with my boyfriend because my mind was blanking out and I am prayinggggg that this one is not a disappointment to you guys! again not proofread <3

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

taglist:

@lvrndkoo @sorenflyinn @realalpacorn @ninani-nanina @msun1c0rn @ourfinalisation @rio-reid-whoreee @staarflowerr @leonesimp @okayiamkassandra @starpachinko @atashiboba @blueemochii @hawkswifie @secrtjncoblog @esperssox @smiling-16

a few of them did not show up so please let me know if you didn't get a notification ◡̈

[books-bread-and-brigandage]

literally-unplayable reblogged

8s ago

determined-mind

Jun 16, 2016

girlwhorpsalot

Jun 20, 2016

I needed this.

mentalmentalhealth

Jun 28, 2016

Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it. I really needed this right now. Thank you!

asexualchristian

Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried…

Sep 16, 2018

We need more people like this

intp-again

Goddamn it stop making me feel human

dreamsrainandwitchythings

Oct 10, 2018

The therapist I wanna be.

positivelyqueerace

Text in the image:

“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”

I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.

I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.

But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.

And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.” “A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out sticks.

You’re the one saying alive.

7m ago

FYI: this is boggle the owl

Boggle!

Boggle is worried about you! Boggle is also an owl.

boggletheowl.tumblr.com

of all the days to see this of all the times for the day to fall upon. Yeah reblogging.

[worshipthecrow]

"Meeting the parents"

Summary: You received a call from your mother while you were with Sylus, your parents want to meet your boyfriend.

Content: Sylusx Female! Reader, Reader is exaggerating the situation in her head, death threats.

A/n: I introduced Sylus to my parents with the tete-a-tete function and more or less the things that happened are portrayed here, some comments were made after explaining them the whole game and stuff. English is not my first language, if you find any mistakes, let me know so I can correct them.

One, two, three breaths you took before opening the door and stepping inside with your heart pounding in your chest and cold sweat on your back, Sylus was waiting for you to return from your phone call.

His shirt half open and his lips swollen from the long kissing session would be a hot and inviting sight if it weren’t for your mother’s voice booming in your brain.

We want to meet him, you’ve been with him for how long? A year? And you still haven’t brought him home, if that was a lie don’t worry honey, my friend’s son is still single and very handsome.

Your mother’s playful tone made you frown, you exchanged a few more words and hung up the phone.

He smiled sideways at you, waiting for you to sit back on his lap to continue.

“Hey…” you didn’t let him finish when the words came out of your mouth like a suppressed cough, fast and violent “

“My parents want to meet you”

You noticed the slight change in his gaze and posture, but then he relaxed again, held out his hand for you to take, which you did without thinking because of habit, and making you sit on his lap, tangling his finger in a lock of your hair.

“When?” a simple question, you expected more, maybe nervousness, maybe that he would refuse, but there was only one question.

Why don’t you bring him tonight? I’m making pork ribs, your favorite, it would be a good time to meet him.

It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order said sweetly with a little threat.

“Tonight” you whispered, he hummed caressing the skin on your arm, nervousness didn’t let you enjoy the sweet touch.

“All right, if that’s what you want, sweetie” you let out a heavy sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

And for the rest of the afternoon, it was you, stressed to the bone that what would happen in this inevitable disaster, someone would die, and you hoped it would be you, just to get away from this situation.

Sylus took you to your parents’ house on his motorcycle, you would have preferred to go by car, taking advantage of the traffic to get ready or to fake an emergency, but no, the way was too short and fast and now that you were in front of the door you wanted to vomit your guts on the floor.

It was he who rang the doorbell, just long enough to be heard but not annoying, the door was opened by your mother, the image was endearing, the chubby little woman greeted the two of you with a sweet smile letting you in, she still had her apron on, wet and you guessed she was washing the utensils she used to cook.

Your father was in the living room, you noticed the tiny sauce stain on his shoe, and you knew that today, of all days, would be the worst day of your life, nothing good came out of it when your father was helping your mother cook.

Your mother called everyone to the dining room, your stomach was doing somersaults, you walked stiffly to your seat, Sylus, out of habit, opened the chair for you to sit down and then sat next to you.

Your mother served your plate first, as always, the smell of the ribs, that delicious smell that always made your mouth water made you feel the worst nausea you had ever experienced in your life.

You watched her prepare your father’s dish, and the familiar fight of “one more” “no, the doctor said to watch your cholesterol” took some of the tension out of the situation, but knowing that the next dish to be served would be Sylus’ only reminded you of the chaos that was about to unfold, you prayed to any god that was willing to listen to you even though you had never been devoted to any of them.

Your mother took the plate placed two ribs and you held your breath as your mom’s voice came through your ears like the scream of a banshee.

“So, Sylus, what do you do for a living?” the smack of the mashed potatoes against the plate almost made you squeal.

“I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’reinterested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”

You buried your fingernails in your thigh, the way your father bit into the rib meat made your heart stop for a second and the look on your mother’s face didn’t make you feel any better either, you slowly chewed the tender juicy meat, feeling it like lead in your mouth.

“And what do you do in your spare time?” your father’s piercing gaze said he wanted to give him a shot between the eyebrows, too bad that wouldn’t work, you knew it too well.

“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vynil records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your daughter, my singing isn’t too bad.” The sideways smile made you blush as you shoved mashed potatoes in your mouth and avoided the zucchini from the boiled vegetables. “Do you like to sing? If so. You’re always welcome to visit my private karaoke bar.”

“Do you live with anyone? Your family?”

You bit into the carrot so hard that your teeth hurt.

“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule” you blushed and drank from your pomegranate juice as your mother looked sideways at you, you knew what was going through her head. “I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind.”

Sylus smiled softly, and you swallowed saliva admiring how his factions softened.

“I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of your daughter. The two of them offer frolic together at the ranch. I like seeing her be carefree and happy” you held back a surprised gasp at his words, you needed to scream, preferably at your best friend, as you melted into a puddle of mush, that was too sweet, ugh. “… if I might ask, are either of you interested in shooting or racing?”

Now you wanted to scream, but out of hysteria, even though you were a wanderer hunter it’s not like your parents were too happy about it when they expected you to be something else, like a doctor, a lawyer, even a teacher, gun handling was always a constant discussion when you lived with them and expressed your desire to be a hunter.

“I have licensed facilities filled with the necessary equipment. You’re welcome to enjoy them to your heart’s content, while it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people”

You decided to concentrate on your plate, while eating, you blinked for a couple of seconds noticing something strange but ignored it in favor of continuing eating your pork ribs.

“Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking her to auctions and fashion shows, I like seeing her shine, And her happiness is my happiness”

Your heart stopped at the softness of voice, you wanted to cry in his arms and tell him you loved him, but that would be too dramatic at a family dinner and you could do that when you got back to his house in the N109 Zone.

“What about the future, hmm?” everyone had finished as they spoke, you felt a lump in your throat hard to swallow, what about the future indeed, you squeezed your glass as you took a swig.

“I’ll always support her with whatever she wants to do. I’ll also stand by her side without question”

The Table was silent for a few seconds while your father picked up the dirty dishes and your mother took something out of the refrigerator, you recognized the pot immediately, you had seen it so many times during birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas and New Year.

You got up and opened a drawer and took out a plate and helped your mother unmold the flan, the color of the caramel reminded you of your childhood, when on your birthday your mother made a small mold just for you, of Christmas fighting with your older brother for the last slice, which in the end you shared sitting on the floor playing on the console.

It had been so long since you had eaten your mother’s flan, that seeing it now was just a balm for your stressed heart.

You left the plate with the flan on the table carefully, your mother took the knife out of a drawer and returned to the table to cut it.

“Everything you said was very nice Sylus” your mother’s voice gave you a shiver that went all the way down your spine to the back of your neck. “But alas for you where you hurt her, I don’t want to see her cry because of you, because I swear every time you go out you are going to have to watch your back, because if I have to, I will disappear you and no one will ever find you, was I clear enough?”

The sight was hilarious, your mother, the short woman, shorter than you in fact, was threatening the leader of Onychinus with a kitchen knife shiny from the caramel for having cut the flan, with a sweet smile as she offered him the plate with the dessert.

Sylus wasn’t expecting it at all from the look of utter surprise on his face, accepting the plate with a sideways smile.

“Like crystal” he replied softly and your mother smiled again as she handed out the plates, you breathed easy that she hadn’t stabbed him, your father poured the coffee, you put sugar and milk in yours.

The rest passed relatively quietly, lighter conversations and your father constantly telling you to take care of yourself on your missions and your mother reminding you that you could always come home if you decided to quit your job.

After finishing dessert and coffee your father took you to the garage, saying he had something to show you, you followed him thinking it would be some new car he was repairing, or a modified motorcycle, but no, he sat in his folding chair and you sat next to him, nervous about leaving Sylus and your mother alone for too long, you didn’t know if she would try to stab him in the back.

“Does he treat you well?” your father looked at you with his dark eyes, the ones you had inherited, and you nodded.

“He does”

“He seems nice, and he has money” you nodded, uncomfortable about that last “I was worried, when he said he stayed in hotels, that he worked with “individuals”, I thought he would cheat on you” your heart pounded in your chest, you once had that same thought but the fact that Sylus would always answer your calls, messages no matter the time or place removed those doubts a long time ago, “but then, he started eating the zucchini off your plate when you put them aside and the looks, he looked at you like you were the moon, like you put the sun in the sky, it gave me diabetes”

And you laughed, so hard that you threw your head back as you laughed at the top of your lungs, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your father looked at you like you were insane even though he was smiling subtly.

Sylus appeared a few moments later as you were catching your breath, your cheek half numb.

“Your mother wants you to help her dry the dishes”

You got up from your chair and walked towards the door, when Sylus turned to follow you your father called him to talk to him, you looked at him and nodded, you weren’t worried, if your mother didn’t try to kill him your father wouldn’t either, you went to the kitchen and your mother greeted you with a cloth to dry the dishes and you waited.

“I like him” she said “I like that he talked about you like that, he almost doesn’t seem real” you snorted under your breath, wondering what the two of them must have said while you were gone. “Better than your exes, definitely”

You groaned, remembering that your closest group of friends from high school still called your ex from that time “evil cockroach”, and still laughed at his love misfortunes when they got to hear something about him, you were fine staying out of it, but your mean side also felt satisfaction when it turned out that his last girlfriend had dumped him.

“He has everything you like as well, music lover, animal lover, and I am relieved to know he has gun licenses, that means he will always be able to take care of you and you will have good weapons for your missions” your mother dried the flan pot and put it back in its special drawer.

“The hunters association provides us with enough guns” although you weren’t going to deny that the Harrier 700’s were your favorite.

“He’s very much in love with you” your mother evaded the subject of your job, as always, you knew her stance on your safety and the many times you had been scolded over the phone when you were in the hospital was reminder enough “tie him up”

“Mom!” you shouted, shocked, you knew she meant ‘marry him’ but with Sylus it could be very literal that matter.

“What? You would have cute babies” you covered your face in embarrassment, leaving the plate you were drying on the counter so as not to throw it on the floor “and he has nice buttocks”

“MOM!” you shouted in a high pitched voice, definitely embarrassed and your mother laughed at you, you were aware of Sylus’ attributes, but you didn’t want to discuss them with your mother.

“He hides things doesn’t he?” you nodded, calmer at the change of subject, although it wasn’t something you wanted to discuss either, you continued drying the plates and glasses. “But you know what it is?” another nod from you “Well, as long as you know it’s okay, but I don’t want to get you out of prison”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, aware of the approval your parents were giving, your mother a little too enthusiastic, your mother and you finished drying the dishes just as Sylus and your father were coming back in.

The goodbye was better than the welcome and without the stress you felt tired all at once, you wanted to go back and sleep for the next week.

With a last hug to your mother and the mortification that she gave you a condom, you rode up behind Sylus on the bike and hugged him around the waist until you returned home.

You threw yourself on the bed, ready to accomplish your desires, Sylus pulled off your pants as you grunted and tucked you under the blanket, then lay down behind you, brushing your face with something, you opened your eyes and ripped the platinum package from his fingers and threw it on the nightstand, you cursed your mother.

“Don’t even think about laughing” you said through your teeth.

“You are kinda like your mom, she’s the one in charge isn’t she?” you sighed and laid on your back.

“Yeah, my dad has a bad temper, but my mom is the one in charge, if she says do it you do it” you saw his sideways grin.

“It runs in the family I guess, you’re bossy too, Kitten” he kissed your neck and even though you wanted to get mad you couldn’t, you were tired and wanted to sleep, until…

“What did you and my mom talk about?” The kissing stopped and Sylus lay back, towering over you resting his head in his palm and his elbow on the pillow.

“Your past relationships and veiled threats disguised as funny comments, who is ‘the evil cockroach’?”

“Ugh, my chronically unfaithful ex” you shrugged “that would be a better story to tell when you meet my friends, they make it funnier”

“Oh, so I’ll meet the group too?” the comment had come out of nowhere, but if you introduced him to your parents, who you were most worried about them meeting, your friends should be easier no?

“I guess so, although I’ll have to arrange the meeting when we’re all free” you were already getting a slight headache just thinking about squaring schedules so you could set up a meeting.

“I’ll be available whenever you want” you smiled softly at him, you were too grateful that he seconded you on all the things you wanted to do, whether they were ridiculously childish or not.

“I’ll talk to them tomorrow, now I want to sleep” you turned in bed and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down and put your face in the crook of his neck, Sylus wrapped his arms around your waist as he gently stroked your back.

You drifted off to sleep, as you thought about the best way to tell your friends that you wanted them to meet your mysterious boyfriend you talked about all the time. Maybe something like…

“Hey, do you guys want to meet my boyfriend?”

Yeah, that might be nice.

[shiningjustforreid]

stains

glimpses through fem!reader and Spencer’s relationship, through four instances of spills.

word count: 3.5k ish

a/n: i love the idea that for some of us, our personalities are made up all the things we like about the people we know and see. the idea that we’re all little bits and pieces of the things we love, and our experiences. this sort of explores that. (also this was mildly self indulgent because much like reader i’m a klutz!) <3

warnings/tags: 18+ for implied intimacy and canon typical violence for cm, pet names up the wazoo, reader is lowkey clumsy, Derek Morgan being himself, reader gets injured but she’s fine, who’s Maeve?, anxious love confession, Spencer adores reader so so much, S1 and S6 (ish) Spencer, Spencer in and post prison, love letters, marriage, kids, and briefly mentioned pregnancy, girl dad!Spencer Reid my beloved

- ✩ -

coffee - the first stain

To be honest, at first, he’s appalled.

The mug you set down on his desk isn’t his, so God knows whose mouth was on it last. You - somewhat carelessly - plopped it down on the file he’s working on, grinning that thousand watt smile he’s secretly become fond of. You’re wearing a sweater he noticed that brings out your eyes - a berry colored wool garment that he wishes you’d wear more.

“Hey! Morgan said you were exhausted. Thought I’d make you coffee.”

You pick it up, and set it down again, for emphasis, and a few drops make their way down the side and onto his case file, surely creating a cinnamon toned half circle that Hotch will not love. You don’t notice, watching his face.

“I made it with a bunch of sugar. Just how you like it, right?”

Suddenly, he realizes he’s been staring up at you, and then his mouth is moving faster than his brain.

“Yeah, I uh, I am pretty tired, now that you say it. Didn’t sleep well, long night, you know?”

You nod, sipping your own coffee, fingers wrapped around the ceramic.

“I get that. Goes with the job, right?”

“Oh, absolutely, yeah, I- wait, Morgan said that? Did he— what else did he tell you?”

You grin, coffee mug to lips again.

Stop staring, Reid.

“Nothing, really. Just said you needed a boost. Thought I’d provide.”

Titling your head a tad, you look down, a mild panic crossing your face when you see you’ve stained his file.

“Oh my God - Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

He’s quick to shake his head, hands coming up to reassure, his eyes wide.

“No no no, it’s okay, truly, I-I made a mistake on that one anyways. I’ll need to have a new copy printed, honest.”

Frowning, you look him over, searching for a tell, something to let you know whether he’s lying or not.

“Are you sure? I can do it, I’m not that behind on mine, I could—“

Before he thinks - you’d assume, with all his brains, he would - his hand grabs your arm, that gorgeous sweater under his finger tips, his eyes locked with yours. He says your name, once, his tone more serious than he’d like.

“It’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.”

You blink, and then a slow grin takes over your face.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need more.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of his hand burning through the wool on your arm, until he lets go like you’re the one scorching his skin, like he’s just realized that he’s touching you. You laugh a little, awkwardly, and he grins with the same level of unpracticed nerves, and you head back to your desk.

He picks up the mug, and sips slowly, closing his eyes for a moment - it does have a mountain of sweetness, the saccharine liquid coating his mouth but soothing his senses. When he sets it down again, it’s on a part of his workspace not occupied by case work. Just as predicted, the file that once housed the beverage now bears a semi circle of dried java. His pointer finger traces the stain, clockwise and then counter, for a moment, before he glances up in horror to see Morgan, of all people, signature smirk in place.

“‘Thanks for the coffee’. I don’t what’s sweeter, that coffee you just got or-“

“Shut up.”

He mumbles, face flushed, small smile on his face despite the teasing. He traces the coffee stain one last time before he hastily tucks the soiled paper away in a drawer.

blood - the second stain

“What do you mean you aren’t getting a response from her on comms?”

He’s so scared, he can’t even stop to think just how breathless and afraid he sounds, as he turns to Hotch, who fixes him with a look that clearly says, Calm down, Reid.

“It could just be non-functional, or got knocked off, or caught.”

Hotch says calmly, almost maddeningly so. Spencer swallows back the protests, the arguments that swell up in his throat like bile.

They’d created, and given the profile, and once Penelope had narrowed down the couple possible properties their potential unsub owned, you, Morgan, and Prentiss had headed into an abandoned storage facility, silent and careful.

Perhaps not careful enough.

The voice in his head reminds him, almost sadly, and he grits his teeth inside tightly drawn and chapped lips. Shaky hands smooth over his slacks, again and again, as his eyes stay fixed on Hotch.

“Ask-ask Morgan again. If she’ll respond.”

He’s given a frown, dark brows pulling together in a very typical Hotch-like manner.

“Is there a specific reason you’re asking about her, Reid?”

Is there? God, he doesn’t know. You bring him coffee nearly every morning, but perhaps that’s just kindness. Then there’s the chocolate sprinkled donuts that start his work day from time to time - maybe you just enjoy pastry treats, and think of him, when you buy one. Oh, and heaven forbid he forget the way you’ll come by his desk, and ask for clarification on a piece of paperwork or a procedure - that you probably could’ve asked Hotch or Prentiss about. You listen, active listening too, eye contact, body still - when his explanations turn into rambles about statistics about this type of criminal, your eyes watching his face, your own voice quiet.

Is he deluding himself? Seeing phantom romance where there’s maybe merely nothing but platonic affection? Blinking, once, he shakes his head in response to his Unit Chief’s question.

“No Hotch. I’m just worried, she-well, she hasn’t responded, and Morgan has, and Prentiss has, and I—“

Speak of the devil, Morgan’s voice comes through, demanding and tense.

“I need a medic. Prentiss and I secured the unsub, but, not before—“

Oh God. Not before that bastard got to you with a baseball bat, to the back of the head, you unaware before your face met the concrete below. Spencer’s not even asking for permission, snatching the keys to an SUV off the desk nearby and flooring the gas pedal.

You can’t die. Not before I—

Driving there is like hell - his lungs burn like there’s smoke and ash polluting them, and fear feels like too tame a word to describe the overwhelming panic that seizes his heart the more he drives.

I’m a fool, he thinks wildly, as his knuckles grip the steering wheel like a vice. A damn fool if I don’t tell her-

He’s barely got the thing in park before he’s scrambling out the driver’s side door, Converse immediately coated from the dusty ground outside the facility.

When he finds Morgan, and you, head lolled to the side, eyes closed, face pale as his must be, he falls to his knees with little regard for his own pain or discomfort. Morgan watches, careful, his voice gentle when he speaks, trying to calm his terrified friend.

“She’s still out, Reid. Just a nasty whack to the back of her head, okay? Easy.”

Trembling thumbs trace and hold your face, like it’s made of paper, as he swallows hard to keep the ache behind his eyes from becoming tear tracks down his face. He spots the gash, trickling crimson down your ashy skin, onto his shaking hand, but doesn’t move from holding your face. A deep contusion, furious and violet-toned, on the back of your head, makes the air leave his chest like he’s been choked.

Beautiful girl, I couldn’t stop this.

He could sob, and he nearly does, until you make some sort of confused noise and force open your eyes. Light rushes through his heart, rekindled warmth as he meets your eyes, and yet, he finds himself almost frozen.

“Spencer? What, I thought-“

“Listen to me.”

He forces himself to speak - he has too. What if he doesn’t get the chance, and all he ever gets to associate you with is caffeine, sprinkles, and a listening ear? No, that won’t do. Not in the slightest.

You meet his eyes, hazy, but listening. Morgan’s brows furrow, as he protests,

“God, man, she just woke up, let her-“

Ignored, as Spencer often finds himself doing when there’s more pressing matters than banter, than propriety.

“You need to know. That I-care about you.”

Blinking, you swallow, and suddenly, the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is slightly dimmed.

“That I can’t let another sunrise or sunset go by where you don’t know that I’d give you the stars if you’d let me. Where I can’t touch you, where I can’t make sure you understand that I’ll protect the light you have inside you until I’m burnt from it. You absolute angel, I-“

He shudders, almost afraid of his own earnest, and says your name like it’s a prayer.

“I love you. Even if you don’t return it, my heart is yours.”

Morgan’s grin is wide, and he shakes his head, almost in amazement. Your own face is flushed, as you hear sirens and medics, your voice crackly and rough from pain, but still, that smile he’s grown to associate with his heart fluttering graces your face.

“My heart is yours, Spencer. Glad you’re finally realizing how absolutely in love I am with you, you goose, even if it took all this.”

He laughs a little, almost deliriously, and smooths his trembling hand over your face.

“Guess the doughnuts weren’t enough, huh?”

You manage, and he shakes his head, quick to push back.

“They were. You’re always enough for me, no matter what you do.”

Could he sound any more smitten?

Procedure says he can’t go in the ambulance with you - there’s no need, you’re just getting stitches and some ice and he can visit you at the hospital, okay? But as he heads back to the - oh dear, still running, he really was in a hurry, wasn’t he? - car, Morgan glances sideways at him, signature smirk in place.

“Pretty boy, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Spencer stares down at his hands in his lap. They’re stained, and a grimace floods his face when he realizes it’s not dirt, but your blood, coating his fingertips. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he bites back a nastier retort than his friend deserves.

“I guess I did. I can’t believe it took-“

Morgan sighs, stopping Spencer’s inevitable incoming guilt filled rambles.

“Hush. You told her. That’s what matters.”

Glancing down at Spencer’s fidgeting hands in his lap, he presses on the gas.

“Let’s get there, so you can get that off you. I’m shocked you got all dirty, with your germ thing.”

Spencer shrugs, looking out the window.

“For her? I’d-I think I’d do anything. No matter what it stained.”

Soap finds his hands at the hospital, but he finds you soon after, unable to stop the gentle press of his lips to your forehead, or the soft murmurs that follow as he tries to remind himself that much more of your blood didn’t spill.

ink - the third stain

Emily has to physically hold you back in the court room, when they take him out, his eyes fixed on you, and the team, almost hopeless.

“Then your client is a flight risk.”

You’re quite literally fighting her, suddenly terrified in a whole new way for your boyfriend, tears staining your face.

“Bail is denied.”

She’s got both arms wrapped around you, her soft, ‘I know’s, and ‘I’m sorry’s barely heard over your own pleas for her to let you go.

“Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

You hear someone sobbing - angry, fear-filled wailing - and until Emily has you turned around, your face in her shoulder, comes the realization that it’s you.

“He’s-Emily, what are we going to do, he’s not going to be okay, I-I can’t—“

The days that follow are dark. Going to the BAU without Spencer, let alone waking up without him beside you, is enough to send you into a spiral. You try to remind yourself that he’s worse off, that whatever hell he’s experiencing is ten times worse than your quiet fear and loneliness. So, to try to combat the weight that squashes your heart, you write him letters. Daily letters.

Spencer -

We have a case in Florida. Emily says it’ll be quick, but the Florida ones never are. We’d solve it ten times faster with you, you know? Geographical profiles are much harder alone, that’s for sure. The plane ride is quieter without you, and no one’s saying anything - you’d be saying something if you were here. Maybe that’s why we’re quiet. ♡

Every day. You don’t relent. If you can’t mail them in whatever town you get stuck in for work, you mail them in one big envelope when you get back home.

Spencer -

That case was rough. I cried twice - once when I spent over two hours staring at the map at the precinct and couldn’t find anything new, and once when Rossi accidentally snapped at me. He said he was sorry, that he’s ‘on edge’ right now - but aren’t we all? Emily’s working really hard to try to get you home. I wish I could come see you. I hope you’re safe. I love you. ♡

When you learn that he didn’t put you on the list of people who can visit him in that concrete hell, you almost lose what’s left your nerve, breaking down in Emily’s office, shaking. You don’t know whether you’re furious, in despair, or numb to it all.

“Emily, why? Why doesn’t he want me to come see him? If it was me, I’d want to see him every day, I wouldn’t want him to leave!”

She sighs, her face tight. Twisting your hands in your lap, you search her face for answers. Nausea claws at your throat.

“Honestly, my guess is it’s just that. He knows that if you come, he won’t want you to leave. It’ll hurt too much.”

“But Tara, and you, and his mother, and-

Spencer -

I think I understand. Sort of. I feel like there’s this pressure in my chest, and I can’t ever fully breathe. Not since you’ve been away. The weight on my heart never goes away. Missing you more every hour. ♡

Despite the slew of handwritten letters that reach him, you only get one back, after you and the team search his apartment - you keep it in your purse pocket, folded safe, and read it whenever your throat feels tight and your eyes burn. His untidy scrawl is enough to make you feel like a part of him is actually inside this letter - like he’s reading it himself to you, interwoven in the fibers of the paper.

Angel -

I wanted you to know I’m in solitary now - I made sure of it. I know you want me safe, almost more than I do. I love you beyond what I can say, my beautiful girl.

Yours, Spencer.

One night, you’re curled up in Spencer’s apartment, writing him a letter, as is your nightly routine. The ink stains the side of your hand now - an ever-present reminder of the fact that your heart constantly feels ripped out of your body. After addressing the letter to him, your phone buzzes - Emily.

Oh God.

“Hey. We figured out that- oh, you don’t care about all that. He’s coming home.”

She doesn’t need to tell you twice. Paper and ink pen tumble to the floor as you shove your feet in shoes and snatch your jacket off the coat tree. Tension is coiled in your body the entire way there. Ink still stains the side of your hand, a permanent reminder that every time you needed to just tell him something - you had to pick up pen and paper.

Heart in your throat, you push open the door with shaking hand. There he stands, your Spencer. He’s still him, you think, although his face is tight, and sleep clearly hasn’t been something he’s seen much of.

Three months.

You walk in slowly, body trembling. One hand reaches up, runs through the curls that have grown so long.

“Your hair.”

You breathe out, voice barely audible. He nods, his face almost impassive. Tentativel fingers trail down his cheek, make a path to hold his face. He nods, and then, you notice his eyes are misty.

“My angel.” He murmurs, almost in awe, and takes you in his arms with a fervor. Crushed against him, face buried in the cool fabric of his shirt, you bite back a sob, arms threaded around him.

“No. Cry, my darling girl, I’m— I’m tired of doing it alone.”

How could you refuse him? Just hearing his voice, let alone the relief you feel at being touched by him again, is enough to satisfy you for days, you think. For a bit, all that’s heard is uneven breaths, until he speaks, his voice rough and shaky.

“I need to see your face.”

He pulls back, face shining with tears, and you swallow back the lump that just won’t leave your throat.

Calloused hands - less soft than you remember - take yours, and then he frowns.

“Your hand.”

Your right hand is held up, inspected, like the blue on the inner side of it is red instead. You smile, laughing a little, still breathless.

“Ink, baby. Just ink. I was writing you a letter.”

He shakes his head, rubbing at the navy stain with his thumb, as if that will remove it.

“I would’ve kept writing. Never given up. You’d be sick of letters from me.”

“Never, sweet girl. There is no part of me who could ever find himself sick of you.”

After you’ve home, he wastes no time in pressing less than tender kisses to your mouth and jawline and the column of your throat. It’s not until he’s reacquainted himself with your contours and the dip of your hipbones and the soft way you gasp out his name when he does that, that has you next to him, so he can see your face.

He needs to see your face.

Hand in his, still faintly stained from ink, he examines it, and then, softly, hesitantly, he meets your eyes.

“You know ink poisoning is actually rare? Pens we use are designed with non-toxic ink, to decrease any chances of fatal ingestion.”

You never mind his information sharing, but your eyebrows furrow tiredly at his timing.

“Spence, I’m not saying I don’t care, but we just— you just—”

“Please. Let me look at the woman I love and pretend for a few moments that my damn eidetic memory won’t play back the last three months of my life like some wretched tape.”

You let him, as he holds your cobalt-colored hand and your eyes droop, his soft voice telling you that rubbing alcohol will probably get that stain out. It almost feels normal.

Almost.

paint - the final stain

“Spence! Can you get paint water out of carpet with any amount of ease?”

You call your husband, turning back to your mildly sheepish five year old, whose water color adventure on the coffee table has quickly done south.

In walks Spencer, not even noticing the overturned hard plastic cup or purpley-blue spill, eyes going straight to his daughter’s nearly finished picture.

“Beautiful, Penny. Looks incredible.”

He murmurs, bending to be eye level with a beaming Penelope, hand on her arm, before turning to you, mild tension and stress lining your face. His smile is gentle. It’ll wash out.

“Rubbling alcohol, angel.”

You nod, tension easing from your shoulders.

“We’ll go get it - we always clean our messes up, right lovely?”

He asks your daughter, lifting her with practiced care. She giggles, nodding, as they head from the room, letting you take a breath and set up the paints and picture in a new location - the kitchen table, with some newspaper tucked underneath because she’s five, and you of all people know spills happen.

Once she’s set up again - she really is so quiet when she’s engrossed in something - you find yourself curled up with Spencer on the couch, head on his shoulder, watching her paint and sing-song to herself.

“Think she’s lonely?”

Spencer asks, turning to you, his grin wide.

Troublemaker.

“Hmm. I think you just like me pregnant.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Maybe. Maybe I don’t want Penny to be sad, ever.”

Silence, then, for a bit.

“She’s so much like you.”

Spencer muses, his fingers drawing patterns on the side of your sweater. You smile, fondly.

“You say that because I’m clumsy. She was dancing around with that paintbrush, that cup of paint water stood no chance.”

“No, I say that because she shines like you. No matter what tries to dim her.”

That night, when you peek in your daughter’s door to see Spencer reading her A Little Princess, she’s propped up against him, hazel eyes barely open. Affection swells in your chest as his voice carries on, even though she’s clearly almost in dreamland. In you walk, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then Spencer’s. He smiles gentle up at you - this is his favorite time of the day - and keeps reading.

“Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words, and everything in the world understands it.”

Once you’re back in the living room, you check on the earlier spill from today. All that’s left is a barely visible blue spot, no bigger than a quarter.

“No one will see it but you.”

Steadying, warm arms wrap around your ribs, and soft lips press against the side of your neck, washing away any insecurity about the state of your carpet.

“Besides, stains aren’t bad, sweet girl. They’re little reminders that things happened, good things, or bad things that brought us together. Memories, attached to splotches, attached to wounds, to paper, to skin. How convenient, to carry our most impactful moments like heaven-sent tattoos.”

[ariahmichelle]

Phoning It In- Drew Starkey x actress/reader

Part 2

You sat in the brightly lit Elle magazine studio, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you reached into the bowl of folded slips of paper.

The Phoning It In segment was straightforward—draw a prank scenario, call one of your friends, and see how they react. You’d already done two ridiculous pranks, but when you unfolded your third prompt, your excitement kicked up a notch.

The slip read: “Say you’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind and want to put your acting career on hold for it.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” you said, laughing to the camera. “I’m calling Drew Starkey for this one. He’s going to lose his mind.”

Fans loved speculating about you and Drew. Your friendship had been under scrutiny for months, with fans pointing out how close you were off-screen. You’d both laughed it off in interviews, but recently, your feelings for Drew had started to shift. You’d been noticing his laugh a little more, catching yourself smiling at his texts for longer than usual. So this prank? It was the perfect opportunity to see how he’d react.

You dialed his number, nerves bubbling in your chest. After a few rings, Drew picked up.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “What’s up?

“Hey, Drew. Um… I need to talk to you about something,” you said, trying to sound hesitant.

“Oh no. This sounds serious. Did you finally get banned from craft services?”

“Drew, I’m being serious,” you said, injecting some urgency into your voice, while trying to contain your laughter.

“I just… I’ve been offered this opportunity, and I wanted to get your opinion”

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “What kind of opportunity?”

You took a deep breath, setting the stage. “I’ve been asked to go on Love Is Blind.”

There was a beat of silence before Drew burst out laughing. “Wait, wait, wait. Love Is Blind? You? Oh, this is rich. Are they doing a celebrity edition or something?”

“No, it’s the regular one,” you said, feigning seriousness. “They reached out to me, and I think it’s a sign. I mean, I’ve been so focused on my career—maybe it’s time I try something new, you know? Like, find my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? Through a pod?!” Drew was cackling now, but when you didn’t laugh along, he hesitated. “Wait… are you serious?”

“Yes, Drew!” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “I think this could be really good for me. But it means I’d have to take a break from Outer Banks for a while.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not,” Drew said firmly, his tone more serious now. “You can’t leave Outer Banks. Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” you asked, pretending to sound defensive.

“Because, for one, you’re too talented to leave all of this behind for some reality show. And two…” He paused, his voice softening. “The show would be awful without you. Like, genuinely terrible. And if you’re gone, who’s going to keep me sane on set?”

“I’m sure you’d manage,” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Drew said, his voice growing more animated. “Okay, you know what? If it comes down to this, I’ll just marry you myself. Problem solved. No pods, no weird dates, and Outer Banks keeps you. Win-win.”

Your breath caught at his words. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Drew said, laughing but also sounding genuine. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from leaving, I’ll do it. You’re not leaving, alright? End of discussion.”

For a moment you have to mute yourself to let out a laugh while Drew continues to rant but then there’s a second of silence on the end of the line and the tone of his voice shifted slightly, quieter now. “I mean… I don’t want you to leave. I don’t think I could do this without you. Not just the show, but… everything.”

Your heart raced as Drew trailed off, his words heavy with something unspoken. You weren’t sure what’s happening but you definitely didnt want it caught on camera so you quickly unmute yourself and let out an exaggerated laugh, cutting through the tension. “Drew, oh my God! It’s a prank!”

“What?” he asked, clearly thrown off.

“I’m filming a segment for Elle,” you explained, laughing as you tried to compose yourself. “I had to prank-call someone, and you were the perfect target.”

“Are you kidding me?” Drew groaned, though you could hear him laughing on the other end. “You’re unbelievable. I just fake-proposed to you. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, I realize,” you teased. “And I’m definitely not letting you live it down.”

You’re evil,” Drew said, laughing along with you, though you could hear the tension still lingering beneath his words. “You seriously had me going. I was about to start drafting a petition to keep you on Outer Banks.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, your voice light. “But thanks for the marriage proposal. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to quit acting for real.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone playful again. “Remind me to prank you back when you least expect it.”

When the call ended, you turned to the camera with a big smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you successfully prank Drew Starkey. Bonus points for the fake marriage proposal.”

Later that evening, as you were heading home, your phone buzzed with a text from Drew.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the message. Whatever Drew wanted to talk about, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about the prank.

——————————

Let me know what u think? Requests are also open, check who I write for before requesting! 💗

[mitsua]

HUG?

synopsis: an s/o who likes to gives hugs and kisses randomly (1.15k)

🎧ྀི satoru gojo

this man couldn't be happier.

like seriously, you reciprocate his randomness on attaching to your hip from one second to the other? and smooch his cheek sweetly while doing so? he's in heaven.

the first time you surprised him, being already a couple since that gave you a boost of confidence on your plan, you felt him stiffen lightly.

you were at you're at your house so he had his infinity off of course—still, he didn't expect the affection so suddenly. you might've taken it a little personal and went to retreat your arms and apologize, a little shocked and disappointed that you've seen him start the affection many times before but maybe that's for some specific reason you guys had yet to talk about. until you felt his hands keeping in place your arms wrapped around his waist, cold hands as ever touching yours so delicately being in an awe state form just from your mere sweet self hugging him.

"hey now, you caught me by surprise but now i don't plan on letting you go!"

after that 'moment of weakness' as you'd like to tease him about it now that he's gotten more accostumed to it, he does look for you when you got your guard down and sometimes he just goes for a hug that turns into a cuddle session. but when he's feeling defeated or would simply like to hear you laugh, he'll start a tickle war.

"'toru! welcome home!" you greeted not moving from your spot on the kitchen stirring the pot as you heard your husband's keys shuffling for a moment and then open the door. however, you do turn around after some moments pass and he hasn't said anything which is so unlikely of him.

"'tor-" "boo!" he teleports right in front of you and starts tickling your sides and weak spots mercilessly, you—unable of containing your laugh and getting desperate for some needed air—don't really notice when you've gotten so close to the stove and duly ended up burning your arm.

"sorry sorry sorry!!!" satoru cried after hearing you whine in pain and went to take a look at your injury.

he swore to never tickle you ever again in the kitchen.

🎧ྀི itadori yuuji

ughh i wanna hug this man so bad

you never showed physical affection to anyone until you got close enough. that being said, when you've officially initiated a romantic relationship with yuuji, your hugs and kisses were a plus that you were uncertain to add in public at first.

that's why you kept on watching him all the time and as you gained more trust on yourself whenever you saw him alone in a classroom or walking by an empty street, somehow, someone would pop up and erase the idea out of your mind instantly.

thus leading to the following events.

it's been weeks of you wanting to start the physical affection with yuuji, even if you knew he'd never have a problem with you not openly admitting it, you were getting insecure that he might feel you're not reciprocating his feelings as much as you want to show him. so you decided to suck it up one evening you saw him at the street about to get something from a vending machine, you ran your way behind him as he bent down to pick his chips but felt yourself quickly being held in a headlock by no other one than itadori himself.

"hey! wow wait, (name)?! i'm sorry! i just gotta keep my guard up anytime in the streets ya'know? i'm sorry!!" he explained while letting go of you and adjusting your hair back into place. surprising both of you, you laughed, why would you ever think your boyfriend—itadori, would ever mock you for wanting to hug him? you laughed and he took it as apology accepted but still had his index scratching his cheek awkwardly in embarrassment.

after freeing yourself of that heavy insecurity that had been nagging you for so long, you hugged him, one arm of yours going up to hold him by his neck and the other one around his waist—fully embracing his warmth and beating heart with a calm smile plastered on your face and making him malfunction for a second until you kissed his cheek as well. only then did he snaked both arms around your waist and leaned down to be near your ear and whisper

"i really really love you (name)"

🎧ྀི megumi fushiguro

it was really hard at first to him to come to terms of how this is how you showed your liking, and soon love, for him. but the tenderness and such security you irriated unconsciously as you had your arms and legs around him while sitting on the couch, trapping him on place, made him feel really giddy on the inside and never ever thought about leaving his place in between your arms.

after some time in your relation, you've gotten a routine more than just surprising him with hugs—though you still leave him at loss of words when you kiss his cheek randomly—this is, whenever you have to say your goodbyes he'll wait at the front of whatever door for you to hug him and give your farewells 'til the next day.

so the day he started doing so caught you off guard instead, like imagine this 5.7 feet tall man with the face hard as a rock just in your way of getting out the door of the jujutsu school. like. "what?" you asked oblivious to his wishes. he didn't move nor say anything, expecting you to magically read his mind as always and figure out he missed your hugs.

"megumi?" you tilted your head in thought, you've gotten all your belongings on your bag already, what could he be waiting from you? you said your goodbyes and–oh. you giggled in realization, yes, you did understand his unspoken message and somehow reminded you of certain classmate who can't speak easily either. "never thought you'd like to hug as we bid goodbye 'gumi, i love it" you confessed softly. he melted in your arms and now did not want to let go again.

this brings us to the chaotic occasion he indeed did not let go of you for so long you almost missed a special mission assigned to you.

the director had told you he'd get your transport prepared for you to arrive on time. long story short, fushiguro didn't want to let you go as you did your traditional goodbye hug and as much as you tried to deny the affection or reminded him you had to go quickly, it only served him to squeeze you even harder.

after a reprimand from the professor, you learnt your lesson and decided to negotiate with megumi to have a whole cuddling day whenever a long mission trip dared close, wether it was yours or his.

"i love your hugs as well"

welcome to my new account lovely readers! hope you find whatever your pretty mind desires as i'll be doing my best to repost from my previous account and write more new content from the bottom of my heart to you! sending lots of hugs and kisses! my ask box will be open for any request you might have as soon as i post my masterlist, for now, if you wanna chat i'm open to that too! -mitsua

[prettymfwrites]

Forgotten Date Prank

Paige bueckers x Female reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.

The camera’s red light blinked steadily, recording the scene unfolding in your shared apartment. You adjusted the tripod, making sure the angle was perfect before flipping the viewfinder around to check your framing. Perfect. You grinned mischievously to yourself, glancing over your shoulder to where Paige was sprawled on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on her ipad.

"Hey, guys! Welcome back to the channel!" you started brightly, clapping your hands together. "So today’s video is super special because my girl Paige has finally decided to plan a surprise date for us! Like, she's the cutest."

Paige’s head whipped up immediately, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Wait, what?”

You ignored her, suppressing a smirk as you kept your attention on the camera. “I know, I was shocked too! I’ve been bugging her for months to take the lead and plan something on her own, and she finally did it! So today, we’re doing a GRWM for this dinner date.”

Paige’s brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly in confusion. “Ma, what are you talking about? I didn’t—”

"Shh!" You held up a finger, still grinning. "I’ll ask Paige what kind of look she’s envisioning for me, and we’ll go from there. Baby, what vibe are we going for? Glam? Natural? Something bold?"

Paige sat up straight now, her iPad forgotten as she stared at you in full-blown panic. “Baby, what? I didn’t plan—hold on—when is this date supposed to be?”

“Oh, you don't have to act like it's still a secret” you teased, swiping your makeup bag off the counter. “You’re so bad at surprises. Just tell me what I should wear so I don’t ruin the aesthetic.”

“Baby.” Paige’s voice cracked slightly, and you had to fight back a laugh. “I didn’t plan a date, What are you talking about? Are you messing with me?”

You glanced at her, face full of disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now? Paige, you texted me this morning, ‘Be ready at 7.’ Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “What?! I didn’t text you that!” She grabbed her phone, scrolling frantically. “Did I? No, there’s no way—I didn’t—hold on—”

“Babe, don’t tell me you’re flaking on our date already,” you said dramatically, turning to the camera with a fake pout. “Y’all see this? She planned a whole romantic evening and now she’s trying to back out.”

“Mama, stop lying on my name in front of them. ” Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t plan a date, I swear! Unless—wait—am I supposed to have planned a date? Did I forget something? Oh my God.”

You turned back to her, holding up a tube of lipstick. “So red or nude for the lips?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the lipstick and your face, her expression a mix of panic and confusion. “Uh—uh—nude, I guess? But seriously, baby, where are we going? What am I supposed to do?”

You held up your blush palette next. “Peachy cheeks or more bronzed?”

Paige slapped a hand to her forehead. “baby, look at me. If I forgot a date, you gotta tell me where it is so I can fix this! Like—give me something to work with. Is it fancy? Casual? Do I need to make reservations?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “You tell me.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “You’re killing me. Killing me,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, okay—think, Bueckers. What can I pull together in—” she glanced at the clock, “—two hours? Picnic? No, it’s too cold for that. Dinner? Do I have time to find a good restaurant? Maybe I can—”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, as you doubled over clutching your stomach.

Paige sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute.” She pointed a finger at you. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“you're so cute” you gasped, still laughing. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Paige groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “Mama, why you gotta do me like that?! I was out here thinking I forgot our anniversary or something!”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “I couldn’t resist. You were too easy to mess with.”

Paige shook her head, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re evil. Straight up evil. I was about to sprint to the grocery store and buy some flowers or something.”

“You love me, though,” you said, grinning as you walked over to sit beside her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, pulling you into her lap. “But don’t think I won’t get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you teased, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, baby. Real lucky.”

I take requests💋

[leyavo]

💖 Dad!price x daughter!reader

Summary: John Price gets an angry voicemail from his ex-wife saying how his twenty year old daughter took off. He doesn’t know what he’s more angry at, the fact his ex-wife’s complaining about rent money or that you took off with her leather jacket.

But he’s going to get another call…

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort | a little bit of 141 in here too at the end. [Masterlist] This was longer than I planned too 2980 words.

John and his ex-wife were both sixteen when they had you. Price later joined the military and your mother cheated on him many times as you grew up.

You were the one to break it to your dad, but in your spite for your mother you ended up hurting him.

There were a few years you didn’t see your dad, your mother upheaving your life whenever she fell in love with a new guy. It never lasted long though, forced to stay in a hotel when things went south until she found a new place. The cycle would repeat.

The father daughter relationship was strained till he got married again and your now step mum stepped in to get you back in his life. The younger brother you never heard of and the wedding your mum had never told you about, let alone the divorce. She’d also been spending the money your dad gave her that was meant for you.

You visited your dad every now and then, but it was difficult with his job and you having school.

Fast forward to you being twenty and you leave with the first guy that can get you out of your mums house. She’s never forgiven you for telling your dad about her affairs. Easy money, she said being with a military man who rarely came home.

Things don’t seem to work out for you though, they never do. You’re sobbing whilst you clutched onto your phone, hoping your dad will answer your call.

You know when you can reach out to him, he still messaged you when he’s going dark on his missions and won’t be with his phone. Followed by a short text when he’s finished, a standard one that you don’t reply to anymore.

He does answer, the one person who always seems to pick up your call. Even though you haven’t spoken to him in months. Even though you’ve ignored his name lighting up your phone screen.

“Hey, kiddo.” His voice soft and low, you didn’t deserve his kindness. Part of you expected him to shout down the phone, but he just carried on talking to you. “You looking after yourself kid?”

“Yeah dad,” you said, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoody. Half a lie, tonight was the first time in ages you’d looked after yourself in the right way. No making excuses for his actions and convincing yourself it was your fault.

He hummed, music cutting off in the background as he shushed whoever was with him.

“Good to hear your voice,” you said, wanting to fill the silence. It’s like being a kid again and finally getting through to him whilst he’s at the military base, to hear him and know he’s there.

“What you doing?”

A smile tugged your lips, anything to keep you on the phone. “I’m waiting for the bus,” you said, forgetting how late it was and the fact you’d missed the last one of the night.

“On your own?”

The wind whipped through the flimsy bus shelter, your bag held on your lap for extra warmth. “Yeah, I’m a big girl now dad.”

Your mind wandered back to the basic self defence moves he’d taught you at sixteen and how when it mattered most you froze instead of fighting. What would the captain think of you?

The captain, a role he slipped back into when he didn’t know how to be there for you. Spoke to you as if he were training a fragile new recruit, measured words and slight pauses keeping him safe.

The man who told you to do anything, but be backed into a corner or made to feel small.

Small, exactly how you felt clinging onto your dad’s call. “I know you are, don’t need your old man no more eh, now that you’re grown.”

At times like this, you wished your dad would drop the tough act and baby you. He always treated you like an adult, even when you were a kid. Gave you a routine, a choice when it came to discipline, knowing that you’d rather do chores than get grounded. The captain never punishing you physically or raising his voice like your mum did. She was a whole different person when your dad went back to work for months on end.

“You still there kid?”

Tears streamed down your face, your cheeks burning in the bitter cold. “I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed, twisting the cuff of your sleeve in your hold.

You’d made such a mess. There was no way you’d go back to your mum’s and you knew that asking your dad for help wouldn’t be fair on your younger brother.

“Hey, hey kiddo. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Classic captain saying whatever you want to hear, like your someone as brave as him.

You wanted him, but couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. “Are you home?” Part of you hoping he’d say no, so that you don’t have to burden him with your problems.

“Nah, down south at the base,” he said, pausing and there’s a scuffle behind the speaker before he’s talking again. “Just me though, didn’t want to pull boyo out of school. Exams and that.” Your brother, ten years younger than you.

“Makes sense,” you sniffled, nodding as if he can see you. “I’m sorry I called so late.” Your throat burnt, nose sore from wiping it on your dad’s old hanky. Something you kept for comfort, a reminder of him. A little cigar stitched into the off white fabric.

“Don’t be sorry,” he snapped, the no nonsense captain sounding more like a man of military than your dad. “You’re okay though, that’s why you called. To check in with your old man? Well we’re all good kid, you and me don’t you worry.”

The first time talking to him since you sent him that written letter. The one where you apologised for tearing the family apart, for hurting him.

“Why can’t you just be my dad?”

There’s a clink of his phone on the other side, as if he’s dropped it. A deep breath filtering through the speaker as he exhales.

“What do you need?”

“I need you, I need my dad. Everything is so screwed up, I’m looking at this bus chart randomly picking a place or getting on the first one that shows up.” You rambled on, the weight on your chest less now that you’ve released the suppressed anger and frustration.

“Send me your location. You know how to do that, right?”

You can’t help, but chuckle at his response. Of course you know, your dad taught you how and frequently scolded you to turn it back on so he would know you’re safe. You hadn’t shared anything with him in months, your finger hovering over the button.

“Please, don’t send mum…”

“I’m on my way kiddo, an hour and a half tops. There any places you can sit inside whilst you wait?”

You don’t bother glancing around, the small street turning is far enough away from the main road. From experience you walked as long as you could, taking whatever path and ending up at a lone bus shelter. If your boyfriend drove around he wouldn’t be able to find you tucked away in a quiet road with newly built houses.

He stayed with you on the phone, giving you the colour and number plate of the car he’d be in when he arrived. You don’t have an interest in cars so the make and model goes over your head, your focus on the number plate instead.

True to his word the car rolled up by the bus stop and he’s out before it stopped.

Your hesitant steps halted as he too stopped in his tracks. His gaze falling on your split lip and blood clumped in your brow and hairline. His head turned to the side, hands shoved his pockets.

“I’m sorry, I know…” you don’t get to finish your sentence, his arms wrapping around you and your face smushing into his chest.

Pulling away from his embrace, the rain pelted down on you. He swept your wet hair out your eyes, hands framing your face as he tilted it up to look at you properly. The pad of his thumb brushed against your jawline, so close to the cut on your lip, but he didn’t touch it.

“Why don’t we get out this rain,” he said, his touch slipping from your face to scoop up your hand in his much larger one.

You don’t move with him though, stumbling towards him as you tried to tug him back. “Where are we going?” You asked, eyeing the man behind the steering wheel. There’s no way you’d go back to your mums, you’d rather wait for the bus or go back to your ex.

John smoothed his moustache, his gaze following yours to the car. “Back to the base, got a place there with my team. That okay, kid? Or there some where else you want me to take you?”

Nodding, you let him guide you to the car and open the back door. You slid in, followed by your dad who shrugged off his jacket and draped it over you. Shifting in your seat, you leant your head against the cold window and clutched the warm jacket around you closer.

“You hungry, can stop off before we go back to base,” John said, his elbow leaning on your bag on the seat between you and him.

“No, just tired,” you mumbled into his jacket. The burnt cigar and gunpowder still lingering on the fabric, like he’d smoked on the journey here.

His voice turned to a distance mumble, your eyes heavy as you let sleep take you. Your dad’s hand resting on top of yours, as if he’s trying to tell himself you’re really here.

The sun peeking through the half shut blinds woke you a few hours later. You turned over in the bed, watching your dad’s chest rise and fall beside you. His hulking form taking up most of the bed, you could feel the heat radiating off him. Even in his sleep, the line between his brows remained.

You can’t believe you called your dad, don’t even remember getting out of the car. He must have carried you in and put you to bed.

He still slept with one hand on his chest, dog tags hidden underneath his T-shirt, but you could still see the outline of them near his shoulder. Nicks and scrapes curved his bicep, you’d never seen them before. Red angry marks and faded ones of pink he normally hid under long sleeves.

The bedroom like every other base you’d stayed in whenever you visited him growing up on weekends here and there. White walls, cold wood beneath your fuzzy socks as your feet padded across the floor. Nothing but a box with a bed in the middle and small drawers either side.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, tracing the medical tape above your brow. The red stains that once clung to your hairline and forehead were clean, a purple bruise forming in its place.

Picking your hold-all from the floor, you slipped it over your shoulder and pressed your ear against the door. You couldn’t pick up any noise outside, just your dad’s low snores filling the bedroom. Probably from all those cigars he’d been smoking.

The alarm clock on the beside drawer flashed eight, thirty seven. You wanted to crawl back under the covers and sleep for another five hours, but you didn’t fancy having the conversation with your dad. How everything would unravel and lead him to finding out why you chose to leave with your boyfriend, like there was no other option. Because there wasn’t.

You pushed the door open, regretting the action as your eyes fell on the man at the kitchen table. His broad shoulders shifting at the sound of your footsteps.

There’s no use sneaking out the house, not when a team of highly trained men are living under one roof. That and the security surrounding the place.

Simon Riley, the masked driver who hadn’t said a word to you. Now you know why he covered up, the scar on his jawline lead to the neck line of his t-shirt. You tried not to stare too long, your gaze flitting to the sweater hugging his muscular arms. He could crush you in a second.

“You’ll have to wait for your old man to sign you out of the base,” Simon said through a mouth full of cereal. “Cuppa on the side for you, heard you moving about.” He pointed to the counter behind you, steam still rising from the kettle next to it.

Of course he did, probably been waiting to catch you sneaking out. Loyal to their captain the lot of them. You walked over to the small kitchenette and grabbed the strong brewed tea.

The front door opened, another guy walking through the porch and kicking his trainers off. Sweat clung to his body, T-shirt like a second skin on his visible six pack beneath. You couldn’t stop staring till he opened his mouth. Thick Scottish accent as he spoke to himself, plucking his headphones out of his ears.

He looked around your age or slightly older, not as rough and rugged as Simon or your dad. You cringed at the comparison, not wanting to think of dad as being desirable to other women.

“Ah you must be the captains daughter,” he said, reaching around you to grab a protein bar on the side. “I’m Soap,” he chuckled as your brows furrowed. “Johnny, Soaps my call sign.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” you mumbled, sitting down at the at the table opposite Simon. Hot cup nestled between your hands. “That to remind you to have a wash?”

You edged back in your seat, the stench of sweat hitting you as Soap walked closer.

Simon’s narrowed gaze flitted from Soap to you, but he didn’t say anything. His spoon clinking the bottom of his bowl as he tried to scoop up the last remnants of cereal. If you didn’t know any better he was rushing.

“What’s yours? Hawk, no… Hulk?” Your focus darted back to Simon, anything to distract you from the hot, but sweaty guy out of the corner of your eye.

He didn’t entertain your curiosity, his chair scraping back as he collected his bowl and dumped it into the dishwasher. Soap’s deep laugh rumbled beside you, shaking his Mohawk head and disappearing down the hallway.

You found yourself leaning to one side, trying to catch a glimmer of Soaps back as he peeled his T-shirt off. John Price, however blocked the way, your back shooting back against the chair.

Simon shared a brief look with your dad, clapping him on the shoulder as he too retreated from the room.

“Damned thing keeps beeping,” John said, dropping your phone on the table. “Can’t answer it, the screen’s cracked to shit,” he grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he dragged his feet to the kitchen and made himself a black coffee.

Classic captain.

You stared at the cracked screen, a chain of texts and missed calls from your ex. It beeped again, your mother’s name lighting the screen.

“You gonna tell me what that’s all about?” John said leaning back in his seat, his cup of coffee balancing on his knee instead of the table. His seat at the top of the table right next to you, his knee nudging yours.

The cup in your hand no long gave you that biting sting, the tea turning cold under your stare. “Things just got bad and I can’t go back to mums.” You shrugged it off like it was no big deal, not daring to meet your dad’s eyes.

“Boyfriend?” He said pointing to your face. You nodded, wishing you hadn’t as the pounding in your head grew stronger.

He peeled your left hand away from your mug. “Where did you hit him?” He asked tracing the broken skin of your knuckles. Nothing got by the captain.

“I think I broke his nose,” you mumbled, head dipping to stare at your lap and the pattern pj trousers.

The captains head bopped up and down. “That’s good, I take it he’s alright if he’s contacting you.” He might as well have asked if he was breathing.

“How is that good?” You snapped, ripping your hand from him and pushing your chair back with you.

“You were defending yourself kid, look at ya!” His booming voice startled you, his hand flinging to your face as if you needed a reminder.

On instinct you flinched at his abrupt movement. Your body freezing and eyes clamping shut.

You opened your eyes, Simon talking in hushed tones to your dad. The captain staring at you, glassy eyed and frown tugging his lips down. And once again you’ve hurt your dad, made him feel bad.

“Why don’t we get Toff, to check her over. Another women might make her more comfortable?"

They weren't even talking to you, but about you. Too consumed with a plan than you moving. "Check yourselves over," you said, snatching your bag from the floor and rushing to the porch.

The door close, but you were yanked back by the strap of your bag. You wanted to lean towards the door, anything to escape the horror of your fuck up. One flinch and you knew, the captain was questioning everything in your life that would cause you to react like that.

"One check up, if you want to leave after I'll sign you out. No questions asked," John pleaded, knuckles turning white as they tightened around the strap of your bag.

"Okay."

Not me thinking about Price’s daughter and Soap 😅 I think he’s the youngest out of all of them? Mid twenties. This was also a lot longer than I planned, I just kept writing more. Huge possibility there are errors as I'm dyslexic and I'm writing for fun.

👀 Do you want another part??? - Leya

[bsturnzmtts]

Closer to you

From older bf! Matt x sweetheart! Reader

Continuation of Needy

Contains/warnings: making out, pet names, blow job, innocent reader, cum swallowing.

Matt had been gone for almost a week. He and his brothers were in Milan for the Prada fashion show, an incredible opportunity they couldn’t turn down. You were happy for him, but being apart from him was harder than you thought it would be. Every time he could, you’d FaceTime or exchange texts, but it wasn’t the same. You missed the way he’d make you laugh and the way his touch would make you feel.

As you sat in your room one evening, thinking about how much you missed him. The way he’d touch you so gently, never pushing you when you weren’t ready. How he respected your boundaries, showing nothing but patience, understanding, and care.

And now, as you think about the times he made you feel good, you realized something… you wanted to make him feel just as good. You wanted to return the favor.

But how?

Matt finally walks through the door after almost a week away. You rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, feeling his warmth flood through you.

“Missed you more,” Matt says, his voice muffled against your hair. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes filled with affection. “It was so weird being away from you.”

You smile, not sure how to explain the emptiness you felt without him. “It was the same for me.”

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. "I'm really glad to be back," he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “How was your week?”

“It was fine, I just missed you a lot.” You say as you both go to the couch.

Matt sits down on the couch, pulling you down next to him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. "I'm sorry it was so long. I promise to make it up to you." He gives you a small smile, his eyes scanning your face. “You know what I really missed?” He asks with a smirk.

“What?” You ask with a little chuckle.

“This.” Matt says before pressing a firm kiss to your lips. He pulls back after a few seconds, his eyes filled with desire. “I missed kissing you. I missed holding you. I missed everything about you.” He says honestly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek again.

You can’t help but smile and blush with his words. “Me too.” You look down, nervously twisting your fingers in your lap. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Matt's eyebrows furrow slightly as he notices your nervousness. He gently takes your hand, stilling the anxious twisting of your fingers. "What about us?" he asks softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Is everything okay? You can tell me anything, you know that."

You look down at your hands, your voice trembling slightly as you try to find the right words. “I… I just… I’ve been thinking about… what you’ve done for me,” you start, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “And, um, I want to make you feel good too. But, I—I don’t know how to…” You trail off, feeling embarrassed by how hard it is to get the words out.

Matt squeezes your hand reassuringly, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he realizes what you're trying to say. "Hey, look at me," he says softly, waiting until your eyes meet his. "You don't need to do anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me something in return, okay?"

You take a shaky breath, finally meeting his gaze. “I want to,” you say softly. “I want to make you feel good too. I just… don’t know how.” Your voice trembles, but the sincerity in your words is clear.

Matt swallows hard, touched by your honesty. He knows you're inexperienced, and your innocence is one of the things he finds most attractive. He cups your cheek again, his thumb brushing your jaw. “Are you sure sweetheart?”

You nod shyly.

A slow smile spreads across Matt's face, his eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. "Alright," he says softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Let's take this slow, okay? I'll guide you through it, step by step."

“Okay…” you say. Then he kisses you.

The kiss starts soft and tender, Matt taking his time to savor your lips. Gradually, it deepens into something more passionate, his fingers threading gently into your hair. The thought of you wanting to make him feel good went right to the bulge in his pants.

Your innocent kiss makes his body react. He pulls back slightly to see your face, your slightly swollen lips from his kiss, your cheeks flushed. He realizes that teaching you how to pleasure him might test his self-control. “You're killing me here," he whispers against your lips. "Such sweet innocence, and you want to do this..." His voice is a low rasp, showing how much you're affecting him.

You whimper slightly as the kiss deepens, unconsciously pressing your body closer to his.

Matt groans quietly, your body pressing against his making his jeans painfully tight. He hardens even more, realizing you have no idea what you're doing to him. He feels your innocent whimper vibrate against his chest, making his jeans suddenly too tight. "Damn," He takes your hand and puts it right on top of his boner. “Look at what you do to me sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen and you let out a small gasp. You look down at his pants and feel even more flustered.

"You feel what you're doing to me?" he asks in a husky whisper, “That's how hard you've made me." his hips subtly moving against your hand. "You're driving me crazy with those innocent kisses and those sweet whimpers..." He gently covers your hand with his, guiding it to apply slight pressure through his jeans.

You feel his dick twitch underneath the fabrics, and his hand guides you to palm him.

He lets out a shuddering breath as you palm his cock, feeling it twitch eagerly under your tentative touch. Matt's voice comes out strained, "Fuck, you're doing that so perfectly..." He watches your face intently. Your cheeks are bright red, eyes wide, small hand palming his length through his jeans. He swallows hard. Your innocence is turning him on like never before. “Unzip my pants.” He commands.

You get even more nervous. Your hands move to the zipper of his pants and slowly unzip them.

Matt inhales sharply as you hesitantly unzip his jeans, his cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his boxer briefs now that the barrier is lowered. "You're doing so well sweetheart, pull my pants down.”

You follow his command and pull down his pants, letting you see now more clearly his erection through his boxers.

Matt's eyes lock onto yours as you gaze at his erect cock through his boxers. He looks absolutely delicious, the bulge prominent and throbbing slightly. "Now, pull my boxers down too," he says, his voice thick with desire.

You do as he tells you. You pull his boxers down freeing his hard cock. You gasp as you see it.

His erection springs free, thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He's not small, not by any means, and he can see the shock in your wide eyes.

“Wh- what do I do now?” You ask nervously.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand towards his erection, "Touch it," he instructs, his eyes darkening. "Wrap your small hand around it." He guides your hand to his thick length. “Stroke it.”

You hand moves slowly up and down stroking on his cock.

He hisses in pleasure watching your small hand move up and down his long length. "God yes," His hips buck slightly meeting your downward stroke. He watches your chest rise and fall quickly, your cheeks bright red. "Grip harder," He demands softly. Your small hand tightens around his shaft. He groans deeply, his head falling back as you grip him tighter, your small hand struggling to fit around his thick girth. "Fuck," He pants, "You're so innocent, yet you're touching me like this."

“Am I doing it okay?” You ask shyly.

He looks back at you, his eyes burning with desire. "You're doing amazing," He says, his voice husky. “But you want to know what you can do make me feel even better?”

“What?”

“Get on your knees for me.” Matt instructs, his voice low and gravelly.

You silently obey and you get on your knees in front of him.

He watches you get on your knees, his heart racing at the sight. "Good girl," He praises, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. With his other hand, he guides his thick, leaking cock towards your small face. "Open your mouth." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

You open your mouth slightly as you look at him.

He slowly guides his thick, throbbing erection towards your small, parted lips. He can feel your warm breath on his sensitive tip. "Wrap your lips around it," He instructs softly, his hips shifting slightly to bring himself closer to your face.

You, unsure of what you’re doing, lick his tip and then wrap your lips around him.

A low groan escapes his lips as he feels your small mouth wrap around him. "Fuck yes," He hisses, his fingers threading through your hair. He starts to slowly thrust into your mouth, being mindful of your limited experience. "Suck," He instructs, his voice strained.

You start sucking his tip, you can feel the taste of his pre cum.

He groans loudly, his hips picking up pace as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. "Shit, your mouth feels so fucking good," He praises, his fingers tightening in your hair. He can feel your small tongue swirling around his tip as you suck, and it's driving him wild.

“Mmh hmhh” You can feel yourself gagging a bit as he pushes deeper.

He immediately pulls back, realizing he's gone too deep. "Easy, fuck," He pants, caressing your cheek gently as you catch your breath. "You're doing great. I got carried away. Let’s go slower, okay? Take what you can and the rest stroke it with your hand.”

You nod and go back to sucking his tip and going a bit further, but it’s not enough to take all of it so your hand goes to stroke what’s left.

He watches as you try to take more of him into your small mouth, his hips hitching up to meet your mouth. He can feel your tiny hand wrapping around the base of his thick length, stroking what your mouth can't reach. "Good girl,"

He can feel your tiny mouth working hard to take more of him, your small hand stroking the rest. He's getting closer to the edge, his hips bucking slightly to meet your mouth. "You can try to take a little more," He encourages, his fingers carding through your hair gently.

“Hmm mmhh”

He watches as you try again, taking another inch into your mouth. You hum softly, making his length throb. Your small hand continues to stroke the rest of his length tightly. He groans, "Baby, you're doing too good at this." He warns softly, his hips moving in small thrusts.

You moan around his length. You’re happy you can make him feel good.

"Fuck..." He hisses, his hand tightening in your hair. The vibration of your moan against his cock almost pushes him over the edge. "Sweetheart..." He warns again, voice shaking slightly. "I'm gonna... fuck… I’m gonna cum." He trails off, his muscles tensing.

With a loud groan, he comes undone. He spills his release into your small mouth, his hips jerking as he fills you with his hot, sticky cum. "Swallow it," He pants, his voice hoarse from pleasure.

You get confused when a thick liquid is released into your mouth, it tastes a bit salty. But you do as he says and you swallow it.

"God..." He breathes out roughly, still trembling from his orgasm. He carefully pulls back, his softening cock sliding out of your mouth. He gently wipes a small drop of cum from your lip with his thumb. "Look at you, being such a good girl..."

“D- did I do it well?” You ask nervously.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction and affection. "You did amazingly well," He praises, stroking your cheek gently. "Who knew such a shy thing could give such incredible head?" He teases playfully, his voice warm.

Taglist: @blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

[cheolieji]

Seungcheol

warning: Smut,unprotected sex, breeding kink and idk what else im too lazy

A/N: This is in no way to say mingyu acts like this. it's just part of the fiction

not proofread

I'm lowkey bad at writing smut🫢

feel free to send requests!

check [17] (pink highlighted) to see my yes and no's

seungcheol is the type of guy to walk on the street side of the sidewalk

seungcheol is the protective boyfriend everyone wishes for

the perfect and clingy boyfriend

you wanna wear a short dress? go ahead, he can fight

a guy just looks at you the wrong way, his fist is tightened, his jaw is clenched, and his death glare... goddd if looks could kill

you love it when he's protective over you

but something happened that made you think, is he a little too protective?

now you're sitting in his living room beside him, hands rubbing against each other, nervous to say it

seungcheol, of course, notices this. "You okay hun?" "Yeah! why wouldn't i be?" weird... but he just nodded his head, turning his attention back to the show playing. the sound of tv playing in the background mixing with your thoughts, should you really ask him about something so little that could turn into a heated argument?

"Hey-" "babe-" "Yeah? you say it first"

"no its just uhm. i" his eyebrows raised in confusion. What are you trying to tell him?

"Okay. will you promise not to get mad?" "Of course baby, why would i get mad at you?

"You know how we went to the kims gathering?" he just nods "yeah and how mingyu kept looking at me and stuff?" "Where are we going with this" his eyebrows still raised

"Nothing like that. It's just the way you were glaring at him. felt a little.... i don't know.. rudee? I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. " "Ah, that? i know him, babe he doesn't have good intentions. when he looks at someone like that, it means he wants something out of them." he pauses for a second, "and plus, you're mine..."

you blushed in your seat

"okay good i guess... i thought you were being a little too protective"

"Hey. It's good to be protective over what's mine!" he giggles while hugging you and placing you on his lap. and you're straddling him now. Suddenly, the air shifts

noticing this, seungcheol pulls you in closer before pressing a kiss on your lips. It starts to turn into a makeout session with you grinding on him while heavy breathing leave your mouths

"Can i?" As he's looking down at your pants, you nodded. he takes your pants along with his off. "No panties? want me to fuck you that bad? huh?" You nod again, eyebrows furrowed. "Say it, baby, i wanna hear you" "yes please cheol just fuck me, please"

he teases your opening with his dick before slowly entering your already wet cunt. shit did he get bigger?

"You feel so good, baby, just for me." Now he's fully inside you. He waited a bit for you to get used to his size

he's balls deep inside you, and you're a moaning mess, but he's looking at you like you're the prettiest thing in the world

he's hitting all the right spot "ah- cheol please" your gummy walls wrapped around his thick cock feels like heaven, for the both of you

he's leaving hickeys all over your neck as you're riding him like there's no tomorrow

bouncing on his dick as you're moaning his name loudly. it's like music to his ears

you feel the familiar pit in your stomach "fuck cheol im gonna cum" he lets out a loud grunt before cumming inside you "fuck ill fill you with my babies"

" gonna make you forget about that fucker" he continues thrusting inside you until you reached your high before softly kissing you

you let out a loud moan before falling on his shoulder. "You know, if you wanna put babies inside me, we should probably do more." "you wanna move it to the bedroom?" he carries you to the bedroom for a night of pleasure

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I No UD AU I SFW I Aged Up Characters I Fluff

I have no idea how many words this is, I banged it out right here in the Tumblr app. I was possessed by a demon, I think. Anyway! Behold! Baker!Eddie and Smitten!Steve for your viewing pleasure...

***

"Sir? Your drink."

Steve, startled back into the moment, blinks at the barista as she holds out his latte. He takes it from her, apologizes, and starts to walk away but...

"Sorry again, but, uh, is that Eddie Munson by any chance?"

She turns to look through the pass through window into the bakery. "Yeah. Why? You need him for something?"

"No!" He winces. "Sorry. No. I just haven't seen him in years. We went to high school together. I had no idea he worked here."

She smiles like she's placating him, 'fascinating' that smile says. "He's the owner, actually. His brownies are world famous."

"No shit? That's awesome. Good for him."

He doesn't get a response to that, so he leaves her alone to finish making other people's coffees.

What a weird coincidence, Steve moving to this neighborhood and finding...well, not an old friend exactly, but a fellow Hawkins High survivor.

***

Two days later, Steve is still thinking about Eddie. His goofy hairnet, the flour dusted up his arms, the adorable apron, decorated with skulls, of course. His smile. With the dimples and everything.

"Ugh."

He's gonna go back. Probably make a complete ass of himself.

"Ugh!"

Maybe he'll go just for another look. Eddie won't even notice he's there.

***

He doesn't get a chance to sneak in and out, Eddie himself greets Steve as soon as the bell goes off above the door.

"Steve Harrington is the mystery alumni?! Can't believe you saw my ugly mug and decided to come back. Wait..." He raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Are you stalking me?"

Steve sputters in horror, feeling caught out, but Eddie just laughs at him, throwing his head back, sending his already loose bun jiggling. Steve breaks into a nervous sweat.

"I'm just fucking with you, man. Come here, let me get a look at you."

Jesus Christ, why is this more nerve wracking than buying pot off the guy behind the school?

Because now you're aware of the reason why he flustered you in the first place, dumb ass.

He steps up to the display counter anyway, trying to be unobtrusive to the people in line. "Hey, Eddie. How are you?"

His smile could lure people into the fucking ocean. "Livin' the dream. You? What brings you to Chi Town?"

"Oh, I just moved in a couple doors down, actually. This neighborhood is great. Super friendly, great shopping, cool bakeries." He motions around them.

Eddie gives him an 'Aw shucks' wave. "You're just saying that because Lilly's salted caramel latte is to die for. You haven't even tried the other wares."

He glances down at the glass case. Normally he doesn't do sweets for breakfast but Eddie's 'wares' do look pretty good. "I hear your brownies are world famous."

His eyes light up, despite how cool about it he's trying to be. "I mean, we were featured on a British travel show... No biggie."

"That's really cool, man. Congratulations."

He casually wipes at the counter with a tea towel, the epitome of nonchalant. "Thanks. You wanna try one?"

"Sure." He glances at the selection but there are so many and they all look good. "Recommend anything in particular?"

Eddie bounces on his toes for a second before whirling around and rushing off to the back. His hair is pinned up in that bun but Steve remembers how it used to trail behind him when he moved, as though working with Looney Toons physics.

When he reappears, he's got a wax paper bundle clutched between two hands. "Voila! Salty Turtle Dog."

"Salty Turtle Dog?" Steve confirms, moving to take the thing from Eddie's presenting hands.

At the last second he pulls back. "You're not allergic to nuts, are you?"

There's a joke there but he's not ready to make it. "Not so far, no."

"Cool." He allows Steve to finally take it from him.

The unwrapped package is still steaming warm. It's been a really long time since he's had a fresh out of the oven brownie. He pinches a bite off with his fingers and pops it into his mouth.

"Oh my god," he groans, head rolled back in pleasure. It's like crispy, gooey, salty, caramel heaven. "What the fuck did you put in this?"

"Blood of a virgin. And walnuts."

"I'll take the whole pan." He shoves another bite into his mouth before he looks up to see Eddie watching him, a pleasant smile upon his face and a bit of color on his cheeks. Embarrassment rolls through him as he realizes he's been moaning like a cat in heat for the last half minute. He rushes to save some sort of face. "It's good. Really good."

"Thanks." He calls out to the new girl making coffee orders, getting Steve another latte. "The secret ingredient is actually the flakey salt on top."

He looks down and sure enough, flakey salt on top. "Neat."

"You working nearby? I'm not usually in during the lunch rush but you could always stop by. We do sandwiches for the lunch menu."

"Nah, I'm Uptown. About fifteen stops." Unfortunately, he thinks, desperately wanting another excuse to stop by. He'd already checked, they close at 3pm. He doesn't get off till 5.

Eddie nods, wiping at the counter again, though it's not dirty. "Doing what?" He looks Steve up and down, noting the button up shirt and khaki pants.

Steve cannot tell Eddie Munson he does data entry, he'll never want to talk to him again. "Uh, boring office shit. Tell me about this," he waves around the bakery, "how did you get into it? Baking."

That makes him laugh. "By accident. You remember my...side gig?"

"Of course." The first time he had to buy directly from Eddie, after he and Tommy parted ways, Steve nearly chickened out, he was so scared of Eddie.

Turns out fear wasn't exactly the thing churning in his gut.

"Well, I got curious one night, thought I might try my hand at edibles. Sounded like a safer option to be transporting around school, ya know? I started small, chocolate chip cookies, but eventually I started branching out, brownies, cake, whatever. And they were a huge hit. My friends actually loved it so much we made the classic mistake of eating too many in one sitting. I'm talkin' like a whole pan in an hour-"

Steve winces in sympathy.

"Yeah. Long story short, I met the devil that night and he pointed out to me that I could, in fact, make baked goods without the weed. Ya know, brownies for eating purposes."

Steve giggles against his will. "Helpful."

"Right? And now here I am, ten years later, averaging four hours of sleep a day, but really, truly livin' the dream."

"That's really cool." Steve has always been attracted to people who have passion. Probably because he hasn't been passionate about anything in his entire life. "You should really try to work on your sleep schedule though. I learned that the hard way during school."

"I'd love to but it's impossible. I'm too much of a night owl to sleep at night and I have to be here at 4am, so I'm usually crashing out after work and sleeping till 2 or 3pm."

"Aww, that sucks. If we lived together, we'd never go to bed at the same time."

It occurs almost immediately that that's an insane thing to say to a virtual stranger. Eddie is frozen solid behind the counter, eyes taking up forty percent of his face, silent as the grave.

Steve turns tail and marches right out of the shop.

***

He swears an oath to never return to Eddie's shop, on pain of death, but then he remembers he left half his brownie sitting on the counter and left his latte too. Without paying! The embarrassment is overshadowed by the guilt, so much so that when Saturday morning rolls around he finds himself standing outside on the sidewalk, waiting until he gets confirmation that Eddie is there to go in.

He is, passing back and forth across the kitchen window behind the counter, bobbing his head wildly to some unheard music.

Steve desperately wants to get to know this version of Eddie, so similar but so different to his high school self. Maybe he'll forgive Steve for being such a weirdo and they can be friends. Eddie doesn't seem the type to hold a social faux pas against a guy. He once made a giant dick out of paper mache in Advanced Art. They made him destroy it before Steve got a look but he heard all about it. Five feet tall, they said. Veiny, they said.

He shakes the thought away and steels his spine. Now or never.

The bell dings above his head. He waits. Nothing dire happens. Eddie doesn't leap out from the kitchen, pointing a finger and screaming 'Creep!' Not that Steve thought he would... But you never knew.

"Hello. What can I get for you?" The barista greets, pleasant but by rote.

"Umm. Salted caramel latte? Medium. And, uh, whatever brownie Eddie recommends."

She gives him a look, confused, before something clicks. "Ohhh." She then turns and shouts, "Eddie, your guy is here!"

Steve goes to correct that horrific statement but the loud clattering of a metal bowl hitting the floor cuts him off. Eddie swears, loudly, before his head pops around the pass through.

"I didn't say that," he frantically tells Steve, "she said that. Not me. Dana! Don't say shit like that."

"What? I thought you said-"

"If you finish that sentence, his order comes out of your paycheck."

She scowls. "Whatever." Her scowl doesn't lessen when she turns back to him. "Was that all?"

Steve glances up at Eddie in the window. "Brownie?" He asks, articulately.

"Get him a Valencia." He turns back to the kitchen, only to pop up again a second later, sans hairnet, and ask, "You got five minutes?"

Steve will hang out all day if Eddie asks, but he can't say that. "Sure. I'll be over there." He points towards the window seats.

"Cool. Be right back."

Steve pays and takes his latte and his not fresh out of the oven brownie and moves to the aforementioned table. It's after the morning rush so there are only a few other people scattered around. The closest person is a student doing homework, and thankfully has headphones on. He's pretty sure whatever conversation Eddie wants to have is going to be embarrassing.

His hours old Valencia brownie is still to die for, tangy this time but soft as hell. If Eddie lets him come back he's gonna get as big as a house.

He's halfway through his breakfast when Eddie flops down across from him. He's lost the apron this time too, looking sexy as hell in just a regular black t-shirt and jeans. Still every inch a rockstar even if he's not shredding a guitar. And he's got a little smudge of batter across one cheek... God...

"Hi. Thanks for sticking around."

"No problem. I'm off today."

"Right. Saturday."

"Right."

They stare at each other, painfully awkward, until they both make it worse by trying to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry about-"

"What did you mean-"

"Oh, sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. You go."

"No, you, seriously."

Steve slaps both hands over his face and whisper shouts until he feels like he's not gonna run out the door again.

"You know what?" Eddie quips. "It's not important right now. How's the brownie?"

He's so sweet. God dammit.

"Really good. Is it orange? Is that what the crunchy bits are?"

"Yeah, candied orange. How's the latte?"

He hesitates a second too long and Eddie cracks a laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You can't fire someone for being straight but I swear they can't work a milk steamer for shit. I can't prove it yet but I know it's true."

Holy shit, the implications of that... There were rumors about Eddie in school, of course, but you had to take everything said about him with a grain of salt. Just because he's implying that he's queer doesn't mean he's single or that he's open to dating Steve in particular. He decides to focus on the other implication.

"So Lilly is queer? Is she single? I've got a lesbian I desperately need to get laid."

Eddie snorts. "Oh yeah? Wait a minute. Buckley? Holy shit, you still talk to her?"

"Talk to her? I just left her on the couch eating an entire sleeve of my Oreos." He sips his mediocre latte and grunts in annoyance. "If she doesn't get over Penelope soon I'm gonna stage an intervention."

"Oh no..." Eddie makes a face.

"What?

"Penelope Williams? Works at the stationary shop on Ashford?"

What the hell? "Yeah? How did you know?"

"Lilly is on her second date with her tonight." He winces even harder, as if it's somehow all his fault.

Steve just laughs. "Why does every lesbian in a five hundred mile radius know each other?"

"Witchcraft, probably. Ouija boards?"

He pops the last of his brownie into his mouth and nods. It's as valid a reason as anything else. He decides to keep the news of Penelope moving on already to himself. Rob just stopped sobbing into his neck three days ago, and he's been waiting on her to feel better before he tells her about Eddie.

"You think if I had Rob come over and put the moves on Dana, she'd make a better latte?"

Eddie cackles. "Couldn't hurt to try."

They smile at each other. It doesn't feel weird, it feels nice, like they can do this, be friendly. Or it would've been if Eddie didn't open his mouth and blurt out, "Did you mean what you said the other day?"

Steve throws his head back and groans. When he looks back, Eddie is waiting patiently for a response. "I'm sorry, okay? Sometimes my brain to mouth filter is busted."

"No, it's cool." He waves Steve's explanation like it's nothing. "I meant, like, was that meant to sound like...what it sounded like?"

Steve cocks his head. He's not sure how else what he said could be interpreted. Like, did Eddie think he was obsessed with sharing a bedtime with Robin too?

He catches Steve's confusion, leans in and whispers, "I just didn't think that was...an option for you..."

"Ohhh," he drawls. Right. "Yeah. Uh," he looks around to make sure no one is listening in, "I'm open to all kinds of...options."

He watches as Eddie processes this, does a frankly upsetting amount of lip licking, and then looks up from between his lashes. "And the thing your brain didn't filter was me being one of those options?"

Fuck. It was embarrassing right up until this exact moment, Eddie looking at him like that. He feels his throat constrict as he tries to swallow.

"Is that okay?" He whispers.

They're leaning really fucking close together - Eddie smells like cinnamon and Camels - so whispering to stay inconspicuous is stupid at this point. Neither of them seem to care.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie draws his name out long and meaningful, as though that's answer enough. Steve supposes it is, coupled with the look he's sharing.

"Five minutes ago."

"What time do you get off?" Eddie practically twinkles at him. Steve groans. "Oh my god, what time do you get off work?"

"Oh." Steve chugs the dregs of his adequate latte. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Not to your place if Robin is still on the couch."

Steve blushes from top to bottom. God dammit, he used to be slutty, why is this so hard? "Right. Your place?"

"All clear." He flashes Steve a grin, full and tempting. Like Steve isn't a sure thing.

They scramble out of their seats and head for the door. At the last second, Steve stops.

"Wait, I almost forgot." He grabs his wallet and starts fishing out a ten. "I forgot to pay last time."

"Keep your money."

He looks up. "What?"

"I wasn't gonna charge for that stuff anyway."

"Okay... But...Why?"

He shuffles in place, all sheepish for some reason. "I kinda over-charged you for the weed. Every time you paid. For years."

Steve is so gone on him already, he just finds that charming.

***

Later that night, while Eddie is asleep, Steve slips the ten under his pillow.

It'll become a back and forth in-joke they share for years.

saw this on instagram (yes, instagram) and i can’t stop thinking about steve recognising eddie at a bakery and immediately falling in love with the guy he kinda had a thing for in high school but never allowed himself to think about too much. like, he’s always had eddie in the back of his mind since finishing school but suddenly seeing him has him all heart eyes and also kind of surprised with what eddie ended up doing with his life. idk, you can think about the statistics, i’m not a writer (please someone write something and tag me 🙏) but THIS will be in my head all day at work

[diceroll65]

party animal part three - b.e

billie eilish x fem!reader

a/n: hello lovelies! started this off thinking i might end the series here, but let me know your thoughts!

this is slightly long! 3k words <3

warnings: smut, strap-on sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, tiniest bit of dom!reader, mostly dom!billie, aftercare, fluff at end

part one, part two

previously... "so you're telling me she's never made you finish?"

you try holding in a laugh. "she almost did? once?" you say, you and billie make eye contact and burst out in laughter. you both were now leaning against the wall talking to some of billie's friends, as you catch yourself staring at billie every so often. you have one thought on your mind, and this thought would have turned into reality if you two weren't so rudely interrupted. you want to give billie a 'thank you' for all she has done for you tonight. although, you have no idea how this is supposed to play out, considering the party is still very much alive. as billie is contributing to casual conversation, you can't help but feel your stomach doing twists as you watch her jaw move up and down, physically feeling it through your sex. you realize that you need to snap out of this mindset, that the moment has already passed. this conflicting thought wavering back and forth in your head causes you to go nonverbal, almost in a dissociative state. billie picks up on your sudden silence, now looking at you in concern. "hey, are you alright?" she asks, now softly resting her hand on your lower back. you immediately snap out of that mentality, meeting billie's worried expression. "can i talk to you about something?" you ask, hinting at her to step out of the group. "oh yeah, for sure" she responds, as she gives a "we'll be right back" cue to the group. you are now standing under the stairs, and instantly lean in, crashing your lips into hers. you break the kiss and begin kissing underneath her ear, as your ears softly begin to graze her earlobe. "hmmm are you still aroused, baby?" she hums, as you continue kissing her neck. "mhm" is all you manage to say, not wanting to pry your lips from her warm skin. billie breaks your grasp, grabbing your hand and guides you to her bedroom upstairs.

as soon as you hit the top of the stairs, she turns around and collides with your lips once again. mid kiss, she begins directing you to her room. "wait, aren't you still sore?" you question, glancing at her jaw and back at her edacious gaze. "oh that won't hold me back, trust me" she says assuringly, giggling. she twists the doorknob, quickly opening the door. she quickly breaks the kiss once again, turning around to lock the door. "you know, if you wanted this, you could have just asked" billie says, smirking your neck. "i just want to make you feel so good" you express, now breathless. you quickly turn you both around now, her back facing the bed. "jesus christ y/n, you're trying to kill me" she says, as you gently push her back. you quickly slide your dress off, as she removes her tee shirt. you slither on the bed, now bestride on her lips. your hands fly to the button of her jeans. "p-please?" you ask sweetly, meeting billie's eyes in a way that was impossible to resist. "go ahead and take them off, baby" she permits, her eye watching the desperate urgency in your demeanor. your hands then reach to grab the denim material at her thighs, pulling them off briskly. your distress is seemingly having a wonderful effect on billie, causing her breathing to get more labored. you are now face to face with billie's blush-colored panties, with a little rose sitting on the hem. you stare into billie's eyes, as your teeth gently grasp onto the hem, pulling down the underwear. billie moaned in response to your sudden dominance, as you drag the panties down to her ankles, discarding them quickly after. you crawl up in between her already spread legs, situating yourself. you blow softly against her sex, causing a light gasp. you smile to yourself, as you begin to lick along her core. billie's head instantly falls back against the pillows, letting out a soft whine. your eyes lock on her facial reactions to the pleasure, making you smile into her. "how's it feel, baby?" you ask, clearly already knowing the answer. "so so good y/n, fuck" she says, struggling to catch her breath. "good" you say, as you continue. you can tell billie is close by her center twitching around your mouth. "fuck, i'm about to cum, y/n" you pick up your face, with a now evil smirk as say "hold it." billie groans, throwing her head back against the pillows once again. you continue, now adding your dainty digits into her, creating an obscene moan to escape from billie's lips. "please, y/n, i can't" billie begs, as she lifts her head to look into your eyes. "go on, my love" you grant, as you feel the energy become less tense and billie fully releases. she lays there for a second, trying to regulate her breathing.

billie then flips you over, instantly pinning your arms above your head. you were surprised she still had the energy to do this after what just occurred. "you really thought i wouldn't take the opportunity?" she says, with a smirk. she takes her hands from your wrists, and moves them down, tracing the physique of your figure. you become flustered as she is staring at your now sopping underwear. "let me make it better, hm?" she says, kissing your left thigh, fingers latching onto the edges of the panties. you nod, as she begins to softly tug the undergarment off your quivering body. your body is aching, feeling an agonizing longing for her to touch where you need her to. your mind is in an elated headspace. billie smiles, chuckling at how badly you desire her attention. "a little antsy, are we?" she asks, sensually, as you rapidly nod your head. "what do you want me to do?" she asks, her face now hovering over yours. "i want you to fuck me, so hard" you say, hungrily. billie eyebrows lift slightly, her smirk now widening. "want me to stretch you out, baby? hm? do you need to be spread open?" she asks, inquisitively, her lips sweeping across your bottom lip. at this point, you are now completely incoherent, trying desperately to configure a sentence. "i-i... yes I want that please" you respond, feeling slightly embarrassed for how badly you ache for her. billie grins, kissing your burning cheeks. "I can do that for you" she says, seduction lingering in her voice. she opens the side table drawer, grabbing an eight inch, sapphire blue strap. you are not used to the length, but know it will feel good once you're accustomed.

before she latches the harness around her dainty hips, she brings the silicone to your mouth. "coat it for me, baby" she states, as she inserts the unattached member in your mouth. you attempt to take the entire length, gagging slightly as you moan against the strap. billie's eyes are now glazed over, fascinated with the image of you in such a vulnerable state. "my god, i want to fucking bury it in you" she says, taking the strap out of your mouth. she quickly secures the harness, as she quickly adjusts to align with your dripping orifice. "are you ready for it?" she questions, looking into your eyes to make sure you're certain. "y-yes" you say, the anticipation causing you to tremble. before you realize, billie has now entered you, slowly getting you used to the feeling. your eyes squeeze close, as you begin breathing harshly. "it's okay, baby. do you need me to go slower?" she asks, noticing your discomfort. "just a little" you say, looking into her eyes. "okay, okay here we go" she states softly, slowing her movement. you feel the silicone slowly stretching you out, now feeling a little better. "you are so beautiful, y/n" she says, picking up the pace a little bit. your furrowed eyebrows now lose tension, showing signs of pleasure. billie takes this as a sign to continue to accelerate, leading you to a euphoric state. "how are you feeling, mama?" she asks, gazing into your lazy eyes. "i- i-" "hm?" she interrupts, finding your struggle amusing. "i feel so so good" you gasp, as you feel her again quickening her speed. "fuck, billie fuck fuck fuck" you say with your voice now pitchy. she is practically kissing you as she whispers onto your mouth "hold it" with a smirk, as she is now thrusting as fast as her body will allow her. "oh my god, oh my god" you whimper, tears threatening to spill. "didn't you say you wanted me to fuck you so hard? i'm giving you what you asked for, no?" she questions, amusingly pouting.

you are unable to respond due to the impact of her silicone extension in your sex, now creating a thumping noise. the headboard is striking the wall, and you feel yourself getting lightheaded. you tap billie's left arm, that was supporting her weight hovering over you. "billie- i need to cum i'm about to pass out" you say, your eyes now resting closed. billie's expression softens as she notices the color change in your face. "holy shit oh my god, you can cum, baby" as she grants you permission, you release harshly as your body shudders. you groan as you now have a slight headache, rolling over to attempt to get more comfortable. billie's eyes widen at your frail state, unlatching the harness and throwing the strap on the ground. billie crawls on the bed, carefully grabbing both your arms, "baby. i can't even begin to express how sorry i am" she says, her voice laced with guilt. "i should have taken it as a sign when you weren't used to the size" she says, now sweeping a piece of hair out of your eyes. she grabs her phone, texting a close friend and telling them to get everyone out of the house. that the party is now over. in a matter of minutes, she receives a text back saying everyone is out, and also stating that they were also leaving.

the house now is just you and billie, which made you feel a lot more comfortable. she gently pulls you up and off the bed, wrapping you in a towel. "let's go get some food and drink in your system, yeah?" you nod softly, as she guides you down the stairs. you grip onto her, as the movement causes sensitivity from your center that courses through your body. she softly pulls out a kitchen chair, laying a towel underneath before you sit. she runs to the cabinet, grabbing a glass and walking towards the fridge. she fills it with little ice, which is exactly how you like it? how did she know? she then fills the glass with water, as she instantly brings it to you, handing it to you directly. she leans against her island that is right in front of you, watching to make sure you drink. as soon as you take a sip, she softly nods, as she goes to the kitchen to prepare to cook for you. "how does tofu stir fry sound?" she looks over the counter, looking at you. you nod, softly saying "that sounds great." billie smiles, as she goes to the pantry. she grabs a vegan protein bar, coming over and laying it in front of you. "why don't you work on this while i'm cooking? it'll take about thirty minutes?" she says, delicately stroking your cheek. you smile as you open the wrapper, biting into the bar. billie plants a gentle kiss to the top of your head, as she walks back to the kitchen, beginning the tofu stir fry. the pleasant smell filled your nose, as the tension in your head start to feel better after consuming the protein bar. you begin to relax in the chair, causing you to lean back and close your eyes. billie worries you will fall asleep, so she attempts to create small talk to keep you up. the thirty minutes fly by, and your food is now sitting in front of you. it's hot, and as you pick up a little to bring to your mouth, you hear billie say "blow on it." so you do, blow on it, and bring it to your lips. billie watches you as she caresses your resting non-dominant hand. "you like it?" she asks, with a smile. you look at her with an obvious expression, since you were scarfing it down. "it's amazing, billie. best stir fry i've ever had" you state, closing your eyes as the taste lingers on your tastebuds. you finish, and billie is quick to taking your bowl and glass, placing them in the sink.

billie then takes the towel underneath you, and guides you back upstairs. you once again enter her bedroom, where billie steps into her connected bathroom. she throws the towel in the hamper, where she is now preparing you a shower. the steam fills the bathroom, slipping through the door into the bedroom. she motions for you to come into the bathroom, as you untuck the white towel, pulling it off your figure. it rests on your shoulder, as you gather your hair in a ponytail grabbing for the supposed hair tie on the other wrist. there wasn't one, billie caught on and runs to grab one of her bathroom vanity. you put your hair up, and set the towel in the hamper. you then reach for the curtain in attempts to open it. billie comes right up behind you, replaces your hand and opens the curtain for you. she offers her hand, so that you can easily get in. the warm water softly grazing your back, as you slowly submerge your body. you open the curtain, finding billie with her arms folded behind her back, looking at her feet. "are you coming in, or?" you ask, looking at her confused. a surprised expression spreads across her face, as she quickly begins peeling the garments of her body. she grabs you both fresh towels, resting them on the towel rack. she opens the curtain, stepping in to find you relaxing under the water. the warmness of the shower and the fullness of your stomach was making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open. you yawn, as you reach for the castle soap. she takes it out of your hand "leave this to me, yeah?"she says, opening the castle soap. billie lathers the soap in her hands, rubbing it softly over your upper chest, and down your arms. you throw your head back, as you begin to relax under her touch. she then bends down, coating your legs with the soap. she then grabs the shower head, rinsing off your body. she takes it and goes towards your center. she gently rinses the area with water, as you wince at the sensitivity. "i know, babygirl. i'm sorry" she says, soothingly. you then do the same for her, rubbing the castle soap over her entire figure. you then rinse everything off, turning the water off. billie opens the curtain and grabs one towel, and slowly dries your skin. when she finishes, she grabs her towel and does the same for herself. she steps out first, stepping on the fluffy bath mat. she extends her hand to you, as you grab it and step out of the shower. you both lay your towels in the hamper, and billie goes to open the bathroom door. she turns around to tell you to wait in the bathroom so you're not cold. "oh shit, um, is there anyway i could use something to take my makeup off with?" you ask, as your makeup is probably running down your face at this point. "of course, the micellar water is on the vanity. the wash cloths are over there" as she points to her linen closet. as she is out of the room, you wash your makeup off, discarding the wash cloth in the hamper. she then reenters the bathroom with an oversized tee shirt, and a pair of her brief underwear. you smile, as you quickly step into the dry clothes. you notice she also is wearing an oversized tee shirt and a pair of briefs.

"thank you so much for everything, billie. i can wash these up and give them to you tomorrow?" you ask, hating that you have to go. billie looks at you raising her eyebrow, "what do you mean? are you not staying here?" she asks, tilting her head. "you want me to?" you question, as you look down. "y/n, of course i do. besides, i don't want you driving home this late" she says, reaching up to grab your chin. a big smile spreads across your face, as you immediately fall into her for a hug. she was surprised by your gesture, but instantly wraps her arms around you. "thank you for taking care of me, billie. this is all so new to me, and i'm just very grateful for you" you speak into her hair. her grip tightens around you, as she begins to rub your back. "you don't have to thank me for that" she states, softly. "i will always take care of you, y/n" she states, reassuringly. "now let's get you in bed, hm?" her ushering you to the bed. you get in, as she pulls the covers over you. she goes to turn out the lamp, and grabs the television remote from the dresser. gets in bed and slides the remote over to you, getting comfortable on her side, facing you. you immediately put on 'new girl' and settle in bed, facing billie. billie comes close to you and kisses your nose. "sorry for over-exhausting you earlier" she says, slightly frowning. "billie" you begin "i needed my shit rocked, and you very much did that" you laugh. "it is totally fine, that was the best orgasm i have ever experienced. i just wasn't used to length" you say, assuring her that you are okay. billie lets out a relieving sigh "okay" as she reaches over to pull you in by your waist. you quickly snuggle into billie, as her hair tickles your nose. you kiss her jaw, as your eyes begin to feel heavy.

"wait i rocked your shit?!" she asks, enthusiastically. you roll your eyes, as you meet hers. "yes, now go to sleep."

[bearforcecaptions]

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

The lights flickered again.

They always did when someone new arrived. That soft, pulsing glow that ran through the walls, like the place itself was exhaling in anticipation. I leaned against the squat rack, waiting. I didn’t know how long I’d been here—days, weeks, years? It didn’t matter anymore. All I knew was that when the lights pulsed like that, someone else was about to walk through those doors, confused and scared, their life about to be rewritten.

This time, the man who stumbled in couldn’t have been more out of place. Middle-aged, thin, with the kind of stooped posture that came from decades of working hunched over desks or shelves. He was wearing a gray cardigan over a button-down shirt, neatly pressed khakis, and polished loafers that echoed slightly on the gym’s smooth floors. He carried a leather satchel in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline, his wide eyes darting across the mirrored walls and rows of gleaming equipment. He looked like he should have been walking into a library or an academic conference, not… here.

“What on earth?” he muttered, his voice low, trembling. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the scene—the endless rows of dumbbells and machines, the clinking of weights as the other men in the gym worked through their routines, completely oblivious to his arrival. The mirrors reflected his thin, nervous frame a thousand times over, distorting him until he seemed swallowed up by the space.

I pushed off the rack and crossed my arms, watching him. It was always the same—panic first, then denial, and finally, acceptance. But everyone fought it differently.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You lost?”

He spun around, startled, his satchel swinging slightly. He was older than most of the people who showed up here—maybe mid-forties, with thinning brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem even more anxious. His face was lined, but not unpleasant, though it had that soft, academic quality that suggested he’d spent more time reading than living.

“I… yes, I think so,” he said, his voice shaky. “I was just leaving work, and I—” He paused, frowning. “This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“You’re in the gym,” I said simply, gesturing around us. “You didn’t mean to end up here, did you?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, looking around again. “I was leaving the library, locking up for the night. I stepped out the back door, and then… I was here.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never does,” I said. “But you might as well put that bag down. You’re not going anywhere.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘not going anywhere’? There’s always a way out.”

“Not here,” I said, leaning back against the rack again. “Every door leads back to the gym. You can try them all if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

His mouth opened to argue, but he stopped himself, looking at me like he thought I might be messing with him. I didn’t bother explaining further. It was always easier to let them figure it out for themselves.

He did. For hours, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. He tried every door, every hallway, every nook and cranny of the gym, even peering behind some of the machines like there might be a hidden escape route. Each time, he ended up right back where he started. I watched him, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d realize there was nothing else to do.

Eventually, he slumped down on a nearby bench, his satchel abandoned on the floor. His cardigan was hanging off one shoulder now, his button-down damp with sweat from all the pacing. He looked defeated, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“I don’t understand,” he said, mostly to himself. “This is impossible.”

“It’s not about understanding,” I said, walking over. “It’s about accepting. There’s nothing to do here except work out. Sooner or later, you’ll start.”

He gave me a sharp look, like I’d insulted him. “I don’t belong here,” he said, his voice firming slightly. “I’m a librarian. I haven’t set foot in a gym in years.”

I shrugged. “You’re here now. And there’s nothing else to do. So unless you want to sit and stare at the walls forever…”

He didn’t answer, just looked down at his hands, his thin fingers twitching slightly. After a long pause, he stood up, walking over to one of the machines with a hesitant, almost resigned air. He stared at it like it was some alien contraption, his head tilted slightly. Then, cautiously, he sat down and gripped the handles.

The first push was awkward, his arms trembling as he tried to move the weight. He was clearly out of his element, his movements shaky and uncoordinated. But he kept at it, his jaw tightening with determination. He didn’t look at me again, too focused on the machine.

The changes started slowly. At first, it was just his posture—his shoulders squared as he worked through his reps, the slump in his back disappearing. His movements became smoother, more confident, as though his body was remembering something it had never known. His arms, once thin and weak, began to fill out, the first hints of muscle appearing beneath his pale skin.

His cardigan slipped off completely at some point, forgotten on the floor, and his button-down shirt started to cling to his torso, the fabric tightening as his chest began to expand. He frowned, tugging at it absently, but he didn’t stop. His khakis were next, the legs stretching taut against his thighs, which were visibly thickening with each push. By the time he moved on to the free weights, the khakis had morphed into gray Nike sweatpants, snug around his growing legs.

I watched as he grabbed a set of dumbbells, his hands gripping the metal with more confidence than before. His biceps swelled as he curled them, the veins in his forearms becoming more pronounced. His button-down had somehow transformed into a tight maroon T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining to contain his growing arms. The hem rode up slightly, revealing a set of abs that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

He paused mid-rep, frowning as he caught his reflection in the mirror. “Is it just me, or do I look… different?” he asked, glancing at me.

I smirked. “You’re changing. Everyone does.”

“What?” His voice wavered slightly, but he didn’t sound as panicked as I’d expected. He turned back to the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he examined himself. “I mean, I do look better, don’t I?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s not all that’s happening.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He flexed his arm experimentally, a grin spreading across his face as he admired the way his bicep bulged. “I haven’t looked like this since college,” he said, his tone lighter, almost excited. “No, I’ve never looked like this.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. The changes were already affecting his mind, his memories shifting to accommodate the new reality. It was subtle at first—almost unnoticeable. He still responded when I called him Richard, but there was hesitation, a faint flicker of confusion in his eyes, like the name didn’t sit right anymore.

By the time he moved on to another machine, the transformation was undeniable. His maroon T-shirt was no longer sitting properly—it had somehow ridden up, the hem tucked under itself and pulled halfway over his head. It clung to his neck and bunched around his upper arms like a makeshift cape, the fabric framing his now-sculpted chest and sharply defined abs. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Instead, he focused entirely on the mirror, admiring the way the overhead lights highlighted every groove in his torso. His pecs looked impossibly firm, rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

The silver chain had appeared around his neck at some point, its polished links catching the light with every slight movement. It sat just above his chest, glinting in the mirror like it had always belonged there. His sweatpants clung tightly to his thighs, emphasizing their powerful bulk, the fabric stretched taut over legs that had once been scrawny. The waistband sagged low on his hips, revealing the elastic band of Calvin Klein briefs. Even the brand seemed to match the newfound confidence radiating from him.

He caught me staring, pausing in front of the mirror with a cocky grin. “I look good, huh?” he said, flexing one arm and glancing between me and his reflection.

I frowned. “You’re changing, Richard. This isn’t—”

“Who’s Richard?” he interrupted, letting out a low, amused laugh. “Man, you’re weird.” He shook his head, turning his attention back to the mirror. His hand ran through his hair, which was now thicker, darker, and styled into soft spikes. His face had become smoother, younger, his jawline sharper. A shadow of stubble darkened his cheeks and chin, perfectly trimmed, as if he’d spent hours grooming it. But I knew better—it had just appeared.

“Richard is who you were,” I said firmly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to give in to this.”

He didn’t even glance at me this time. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said absently, adjusting the chain around his neck. His biceps bulged as he moved, the veins in his arms standing out against his tanned skin. “You’re kinda bringing down the vibe, bro.”

“Bro?” I repeated, incredulous. “You’re not—”

But he’d already moved on, grabbing a set of heavier dumbbells. I watched as he curled them, his movements slow and deliberate, his grin widening with each rep. His muscles swelled with every lift, as though the weights were sculpting him further, refining every detail of his physique. I could feel the gym working on him, reshaping not just his body but his mind.

I tried to get through to him again a little later, when he’d moved to the leg press. He was loading plates onto the machine with a kind of thoughtless ease, his movements mechanical but confident. “Richard,” I called, louder this time.

He glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. “What now, dude?”

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can stop. You can fight it.”

“Fight what?” He laughed, shaking his head as he sat down and braced his legs against the machine. “You’re not making any sense, man. I’m just… doing my thing, you know?”

“This isn’t who you are!” I snapped, frustration boiling over. “You’re a librarian. You don’t belong here.”

He hesitated for just a second, his hands gripping the bars of the machine. Then he grinned, his teeth gleaming white. “Librarian? Nah, man. I’m not… I mean, that doesn’t sound right.” He pressed the weight, his quads flexing powerfully. “Besides, look at me. This is who I am. Always been, right?”

“No, it’s not!” I insisted, stepping closer. But he wasn’t listening anymore. His focus was entirely on the machine, on the weight, on the burn of his muscles. He grunted with effort, his sweatpants riding lower with each press, exposing more of the waistband of his underwear.

Our conversations grew shorter after that. Every time I tried to talk to him, he seemed more distracted, his attention entirely on his reflection or the next set of reps.

“Hey, Richard,” I said again one day—if it was even a day. Time blurred together here, and it felt like I was stuck in an endless loop. “Do you even remember where you came from?”

“Uh, sure,” he said without looking at me, his voice vague. He flexed in the mirror, adjusting the way his shirt hung around his neck. “Came from, like… somewhere, I guess. Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It does matter!” I said sharply. “You’re forgetting yourself. Can’t you see that?”

“Dude,” he said, finally glancing my way, his tone exasperated. “I don’t get what your deal is. I feel great. I look great. Why would I care about… whatever boring stuff you’re on about?”

“That ‘boring stuff’ is who you are,” I said, but I could already tell he wasn’t paying attention. He was busy pulling his sweatpants lower, angling his body in front of the mirror to admire his abs. The smirk on his face made my stomach churn.

“Looking sick, right?” he said, gesturing at his reflection. He glanced at me like he expected me to agree, but when I didn’t, he just shrugged and turned away.

It didn’t take long after that for him to stop talking to me entirely. My attempts to reach him were met with vague grunts, or, more often, complete silence. He became just like the others—completely absorbed in his workouts, his reflection, the endless pursuit of perfection. He spent hours—if hours even existed here—lifting, flexing, adjusting his chain or his sweatpants. Occasionally, he’d let out a low, satisfied laugh as he admired his progress, but he never spoke to me again.

I watched him for a long time, that familiar mix of anger and helplessness twisting in my chest. The man who had walked into the gym—the librarian clutching his satchel and looking so out of place—was gone. In his place was another meathead, all muscles and vanity, his mind as sculpted and empty as his body was powerful. He didn’t even glance my way as he moved from one machine to the next, lost in the rhythm of his routine.

And I knew, eventually, the lights would flicker for him. But until then, he was just another mindless body in the gym, endlessly lifting, endlessly transforming.

[martiansodas-blog]

🎾 🤍💐✨🎀

standford!art who’s your best friend finds out no guy has ever hit your gspot before :(

“are you being serious?”

but it's so fuckin easy! he thinks

your cheeks get warm. you focus on the various hangnails you have instead of making eye contact.

“um...yeah.” you say quietly.

he immediately regrets having such a big reaction and scolds himself.

those rotten frat guys, they only care about one thing.

“hey, hey,” he touches your cheek and crouches a little so he's no longer towering over you. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetheart. it’s not your fault. they’re just inattentive."

“thanks.” you mutter with no expression in your voice.

he was too curious not to ask,

“have you ever found it by yourself?”

a laugh involuntary escaped.

“i’ve never tried.”

art fake pouts.

“you poor girl,” he coos, putting it on thick.

you scoff, but the heat in your cheeks only gets worse and you cant help but smile. he’s way too good at breaking your walls down, and he knew it

“i can show you, if you like.”

your body becomes unmoving.

"what?"

the most logical explanation you can think of is that he spoke a different language and it was lost in translation. because surely he wasn't offering what you think he was offering.

“what kind of friend would i be if i didn’t?”

he had that stupid smirk on his face.

“wait, you’re serious?? wha-”

he steps closer to you, close enough you can feel his body heat.

“we’ve always been closer than most friends, no?”

you shake your head.

“i mean, yeah, but that’s-“

his body goes stiff, eyebrows furrowed like that's the worst news you could've given him.

now he's the one shaking his head. his mostly blue eyes become fixed on the ground. he looked like a kicked puppy.

“that was a stupid idea. you're right. m'sorry. i don’t know why i brought it up."

he begins to walk off.

are you actually going to reject this offer from your insanely handsome best friend? half the girls at stanford would kill for this opportunity. and here it is, falling into your lap.

“wait!”

he wipes the smile off his face before turning around.

“yeah, uh… i’d like that.”

he breaks into a smile.

"really? i truly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

there's still a frown gracing his features.

"you didn't! you didn't. i was just caught off guard. that's all."

"...okay" he smirks slightly.

"okay."

another awkward silence presents itself. what should you-

"come over to my dorm at 8 tonight. that is of course unless you want to do it at yours and risk your roommate catching a free peep show."

his sudden confidence caught you off guard. he's giving you whiplash at this point.

"uh, no. no. yours is great."

who the hell can afford a private dorm as a sophomore?

oh right. tennis champions...

before he goes, he kisses you on the cheek. the first of many that would occur that day. his lips are the perfect proportion for his face and they feel like being touched by a pink cloud.

3 hours later

''FUCK, art, please"

"aww, i know baby. no one can treat you like i can."

its relentless. the entire time. the top half of him babys you while the bottom half tries to leave an imprint.

you didn't know your back could arch this much.

"are you gonna cry from how good it is? poor girl."

and you do. saltwater flows down your cheek and he wipes it off and cradles your head, showing you some mercy.

"you can do it, babygirl. you can give me one more, cant you?"

you nod fervently. it wasn't even about orgasming (of which you've done twice) anymore it was about making him happy.

"yes," you pant "ill come for you, artie, shit hnnn."

once you started babbling you couldn't stop. he thought it was adorable, honestly. he's never made a girl dumb on his cock this quickly. you really needed it.

you're gonna be so fun to play with. he thought.

he pecked your cheek while coaxing you through it.

"atta girl, make my cock all creamy for me. you can do it."

you feel every muscle, no. every atom in your body relaxes. and where your bodies met was so warm and slick and art might slip if he's not careful.

"there you go" he whispered into your neck. "so beautiful. such a good girl, im so proud of you. knew you could do it."

you think he is peppering kisses across your face and chest but you cant will your eyes to open yet and every inch of your skin is tingling.

your semiconsciousness works to his advantage because he loves resting inside you. he could fall asleep just like this but you probably wouldn't like that.

he strokes your hair and stares at you while you recover. he wants to let you fall asleep right away but knows that's not wise.

"c'mon, angel," he says softly as he scoops you up. "lets get you cleaned up."

[clarii]

Off Limits Part 2

Summary: JJ Maybank has always had a crush on John B’s sister, and the feeling is mutual. But when JJ finally musters the courage to ask John B for permission to date her, the answer is a firm no. Determined not to ruin his friendship with John B, JJ pulls away completely, leaving her confused and heartbroken.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Reader, John B & JJ friendship, Pogues & reader friendship, John B & Reader Siblings relationship

Warnings: Angst, drinking, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, unresolved feelings

Author’s note: Here’s the long awaited part two. I hope you guys enjoy. Since I feel bad for making you guys wait for this, I will post another JJ Maybank story after this one.

The night felt endless. The ache in your chest was unbearable, your heart still pounding from the way JJ’s voice had cracked, the pain in his eyes when he admitted he was in love with you. And then he was just… gone.

You were still standing on the porch, arms tightly crossed around yourself, trying to catch your breath when John B finally spoke behind you.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, hesitant.

You spun around, eyes sharp as you glared at your brother. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I’m sorry. I—”

“No, John B, you don’t get to just say sorry like it fixes this!” you snapped, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “You—you did this. You ruined everything.”

John B’s face twisted with guilt, but you were too far gone to stop now.

“You had no right to tell him to stay away from me! Do you know what it’s been like? To have someone who made me feel so—so safe just disappear? To have him act like I didn’t exist when I—” Your voice broke, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts.

John B swallowed hard. “I thought I was protecting you—”

“Protecting me from what? Someone who loves me? Someone who’s been there for me more than anyone else has?”

He opened his mouth, but you shook your head, voice trembling.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose your other half? Because that’s what it feels like, JB.” Your voice cracked, raw and broken. “I feel like a part of me has been missing. I can’t stop thinking about him. Every bonfire, every time I’m at the beach, even here—it all just feels wrong without him.”

John B blinked rapidly, clearly shaken by your words.

“I’m in love with him, John B,” you whispered, voice trembling. “And you took that away from me.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the waves crashing faintly in the distance, your breath shaky and uneven as you wiped at your face.

Finally, John B exhaled shakily, running a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered. “I didn’t know it was hurting you this much.”

You gave a bitter laugh, arms dropping to your sides. “Yeah, well. It is.”

Silence again. Then John B nodded, jaw tightening with determination.

“I’ll fix this.”

It took John B almost an hour to track JJ down.

He found him in his usual spot—the docks, knees pulled to his chest, face buried in his arms. His whole body was tense, shoulders rising and falling with each uneven breath.

John B approached cautiously.

“Hey…” His voice was softer than usual, guilt heavy in every word.

JJ didn’t even flinch. “Just go away, man. I’m not in the mood.”

John B shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving. Not until we talk.”

JJ finally lifted his head, his face pale, eyes red and glassy. His voice was hollow when he spoke.

“What’s there to talk about? You made it pretty clear, didn’t you?”

John B’s face twisted. “JJ… I was wrong.”

That made him pause. JJ blinked, brow furrowing in disbelief.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” John B continued, voice thick. “I thought I was protecting her from getting hurt. But I wasn’t. I was hurting both of you.”

JJ looked away, jaw clenching, his voice low and bitter.

“You don’t get it, man. You don’t get what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every time you see her and can’t—” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “I can’t breathe without her. She’s… everything. And not being near her? It’s killing me.”

John B stared, guilt tightening in his chest as he realized the full extent of the damage.

JJ’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s my person, JB. My other half. And you made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for her.”

John B shook his head quickly. “I was wrong. I see that now. She told me everything, man. How much she’s hurting too. She feels the same way—like she’s missing a part of herself. And it’s you.”

JJ’s breath hitched, his eyes widening.

“She loves you, JJ. She told me.”

JJ’s voice cracked. “She… she said that?”

John B nodded firmly. “Yeah. And I was a jerk for standing in the way of that. If you love her—really love her—go to her. Don’t let me be the reason you lose her.”

JJ didn’t move at first, his mind racing, heart pounding in his chest. Then, without another word, he was up—running.

You were still sitting on the porch, knees pulled to your chest, watching the moonlight ripple across the water when you heard footsteps again.

JJ.

His breathing was uneven, hair damp from the mist, like he’d run straight here.

You stood slowly, heart in your throat.

“JJ—”

But he was already closing the distance between you, his eyes desperate, voice cracking as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry. I never should’ve listened to him. I never should’ve pushed you away. I thought I was doing what was best—but it just—It hurt so much, Y/N.”

Your breath caught, tears already welling again.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

JJ shook his head, stepping even closer. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears spilling down your cheeks. His voice was so soft, so raw.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my person.”

A sob caught in your throat as you whispered back, “I love you too, JJ. I always have. I—”

You didn’t even get to finish before his lips were on yours.

The kiss was everything you’d been holding back—all the pain, all the longing—poured into the way he held you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you closer like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathless, JJ whispered so softly it almost broke you.

“I’m never pushing you away again.”

You smiled through the tears, pressing your lips against his once more.

“Promise?”

His blue eyes softened, filled with nothing but love.

“Promise.”

Taglist: @lillell467, @mariamadison6-blog, @jesschalamet, @8767knockknock, @alimarie1105, @stylesbarnesmaybankstarkeymunson,@qtbananas, @buckyssbestgirl, @dearestceciliaa

[growthhyp]

Oh this could be perfect! Hey there, I'm going on a beach vacation really soon but I realized I don't have any swim trunks. I'm kinda broke right now with college and all so I would love a cheap option. Have you got any trunks or swim wear for sale?

The Black Swim Trunks

The sun was beating down on the pavement as you scoured the rows of the garage sale, your eyes scanning for a bargain that could save your beach vacation from being a wardrobe malfunction disaster. A few sweat droplets trickled down your forehead as you approached a table with a rainbow of fabrics and patterns that looked like they hadn't seen the light of day since the 80s.

"Oh, hey," you called out to the muscular man who was organizing the pile of clothes, his biceps bulging as he tossed a Hawaiian shirt onto the table. "I'm about to go on a beach trip and realized I don't have any swim trunks. I'm kind of broke from college, so I'm hoping to find something cheap. Do you have any here?"

The man looked up from his task and scanned you over. His eyes lingered on your body, seemingly sizing you up. He nodded thoughtfully before saying, "You know, that's the second time someone's asked for swim trunks today. I've got just the pair." He reached under the table and pulled out a set of black swim trunks. They looked like they'd seen better days, but the fabric was stretchy and the price was right—just a buck. You took them without a second thought, not even bothering to check the size.

As you held the trunks in your hand, you couldn't help but notice they were oddly baggy in the front and back, almost as if they had been stretched by someone with a substantial package. You chuckled to yourself, thinking that maybe the last owner had been a bit too optimistic about their size. But hey, a dollar was a dollar, and you weren't going to argue with a good deal. You handed over the cash, and the muscular man tossed the trunks to you with a knowing smirk.

Once you were all settled in the hotel, you couldn't wait to hit the beach. You slipped into the black trunks, and to your surprise, they hugged your waist like a glove. The baggy areas in the front and back clung to your body in a way that was both confusing and oddly comforting. The material was soft and stretchy, and you couldn't wait to see how they'd look once you had a nice tan. You grabbed your towel and sunscreen and headed to the beach with your friends, the excitement building as the waves crashed against the shore.

You found a spot on the beach that was a bit more secluded, with only a few people playing in the sand nearby. You laid out the blanket and plopped down, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. The sounds of laughter and splashing water blended into the background as you closed your eyes and let the ocean breeze caress your body. You felt the sand's gentle abrasion against your skin, and the warmth of the sun's rays seeped into your pores, bringing with them a sense of peace and relaxation. The trunks felt almost alive against your skin, the fabric moving with every shift of your body as you found the perfect lounging position.

As you lay there, something strange began to happen. Your arms felt heavier, and when you flexed, you could feel the muscles in your biceps tightening and swelling. The peaks grew more pronounced with each pulse, the two heads forming the 'guns' that you had always admired on the cover of muscle magazines. Your triceps began to bulge, creating that coveted horseshoe shape. The sensation was odd, but not entirely unpleasant. It was as if the swimwear itself was sculpting your body into something more, something greater.

You felt your chest expanding, the pectoral muscles growing fuller and more defined. The sand beneath your back grew warmer as your back muscles grew. Your lats started to flare out, creating a 'V-taper' that you never knew existed on your body before. Your shoulders rounded out, the deltoids becoming more prominent and powerful. Your traps grew tense, making your neck appear thicker and your shoulders more defined.

As your abs began to tighten and form, you felt a sense of excitement mixed with bewilderment. The waistline of the swim trunks grew taut against your stomach as your abs grew more defined, creating a clear six-pack. You couldn't help but let out a low groan as the muscles in your thighs began to thicken. Your quads grew stronger, and the trunks started to hug your legs tighter, emphasizing the powerful new shape of your legs.

The sensation grew more intense as you felt your cock stirring, hardening beneath the now-tight fabric. It was as if the material was alive, responding to your newfound virility. You looked down, and your eyes widened at the sight of your cock growing longer and thicker, pushing against the constraints of the swim trunks. The head grew plumper and more pronounced, and your cock was now standing tall and proud, demanding attention.

You felt a rush of pleasure as your ass filled out into a perfect bubble butt, the fabric now taut across your cheeks. The onlookers at the beach had no idea of the transformation occurring before their eyes, too caught up in their own vacation bliss to notice the subtle yet significant changes in the person lounging a few feet away.

As your cock continued to swell, the horniness grew to an almost unbearable level. The trunks strained against your body, the fabric now struggling to contain your burgeoning erection. You tried to keep your moans low, but the pleasure was too intense. Your thoughts were consumed by the feeling of your cock thickening and lengthening, reaching sizes you never thought possible. You felt your abs tighten further, your body responding to the new sensations as if it were a natural part of your anatomy.

The beach remained a blur around you, the distant sounds of laughter and waves muffled by the blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes were glued to the sight of your body's metamorphosis, the pressure built, your cock straining against the fabric as your body reached a crescendo of arousal. With a final, powerful thrust, you came, the hot spurts of cum soaking through the material and painting a sticky trail down your thighs.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your grunts of pleasure as quiet as possible. The last thing you needed was a beach full of concerned tourists converging on your little slice of sandy paradise. You had picked a spot that was thankfully somewhat secluded, with just enough of a buffer to ensure your transformation remained private. The few beachgoers nearby were too preoccupied with their own activities to pay attention to the sudden, intense flexing of your muscles and the suspicious bulges that had appeared.

As you felt the final waves of your climax subside, you took a moment to revel in the sensation. Your cock was now a formidable beast, straining against the confines of the swim trunks, which had magically adjusted to fit your new physique like a glove. The cum had soaked through the fabric and was now sticking to your legs and thighs, a testament to the power of the transformation. The trunks are clinging to every inch of your enhanced body, outlining your newfound assets in a way that was both obscene and incredibly tempting.

You cautiously sat up, feeling the weight of your new muscles. Your biceps bulged as you braced yourself against the sand, and your chest felt like it could pop the buttons on a shirt. Your eyes roved over your body, taking in the changes. Your abs rippled with every breath, each muscle defined and taut, leading down to the 'V' that pointed straight to your crotch. The lats on your back had grown so wide that they looked like they could hold wings. Your shoulders looked broader than ever, the deltoids rounded and powerful. Your traps had grown thick, making your neck appear stronger and more defined.

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, the cum in your swim trunks sticking to your legs. You waded into the water, the cool waves washing over your body. The swim trunks clung to your skin as if painted on, leaving nothing to the imagination. The tightness around your cock and ass was almost too much to bear, but you managed to keep a straight face as you approached the shallows. The water reached your waist, and you let out a sigh of relief as the fabric loosened slightly. You rinsed off the evidence of your transformation, watching as the cum washed away to be claimed by the sea.

As you emerged from the water, you caught sight of your friends playing beach volleyball a short distance away. Their jaws dropped as they took in the new you. The swim trunks had become a second skin, highlighting every bulging muscle and curve of your now-extraordinary physique. You couldn't help but flex your biceps, the peaks standing tall and proud, water droplets glistening in the sun. The shock on their faces was priceless.