#gorgeous…beautiful…oh wonderful

[a-cryptid-called-magetha]

oh. my. stars.

THE TALENT????? this is genuinely one of the most fantastic, moving, emotional fics i have ever read!!!! op, you are such a marvelous writer!!! i hope this gets all the notes and recognition! i. CRIEDDDDD. this genuinely depicts and invokes such raw emotion, and i loved every second of it!!!! the delusions were real for our favorite spectacled clone!!! this is poetry and torture at the same time. THE WAY I BELIEVED SHE WASNT COMING BACK AND IT WOULD END WITH TECH’S DEATH BUT BOOM. I WAS SO RELIEVED WHEN SARAD SHOWED UP.

I loved all of the repetition with the “it wasn’t fair”s and “it was the logical thing to do”s!!

had to put my fave lines under the cut bc these shook me to my CORE.

He loved you. And now he was never going to see you again.

Tech had never liked anger. It was messy, disorganized, and dangerous. It had been a long time since he had last felt the full force of his anger, but now it was back, and it was worse than before. Because, unlike before, his anger was mixed with grief.

The memory ended there, and Tech blinked, realizing that his vision was blurry. A single tear had escaped his control, and he reached up and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He missed you.

THE ENTIRE RECORDING BIT DESTROYED ME.

“I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad.”

“But…why?” “Because I love you.” He'd been speechless. "Oh," he'd said. You'd laughed, and he had been able to do nothing but stand there and stare at you. "I'm sorry," you had said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." "No, no," he had managed. "It's...'m fine. Just...you..." "Love you?" "Yes." "I do." "Oh." -> WATCH HOW HARD I CAN CRY!

“I find you to be odd in a pleasant way,” he had explained. “You’re…different. In a good way.”

That was where his memory ended. But the words came back to him, and he found himself repeating them. "I love you," he whispered.

And, when his tears were spent, he would close the file, and he would put his emotions aside, and he would move on. He would have to. Because that was the logical thing to do.

Your name came out as a strangled cry, and he stumbled towards you, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear his brothers calling out behind him, their voices distant and muted. He barely registered their words, or their presence, or anything other than the sight of you in front of him. You were real.

“You changed your hair,” -> THIS ONE GETS ME EVERYTIME ISTG…

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I should have said it. Every day."

Infinite Possibilities of the Universe

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 9,466

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, grief/death/mourning, brief description of anxiety attack/autistic meltdown, reader is referred to as Sarad

Summary: You fell on Kaller, and Tech is the only one who can't let you go. But he knows what the others don't: you're alive, and you're coming back to him. All he has to do is be patient.

A/N: This is sad right up until the end I'm sorry. Thank you @baddest-batchers for the prompt!

Dantooine’s sun shone down on the fields, glinting off of the armor and helmets of the Batch as they relaxed in the afternoon rays. Wrecker and Omega had run off a few hours ago to go find some animal or another, so it was just the boys and a few crates of spare parts that needed to be sorted and put away.

They were in no hurry, and so Hunter and Echo took up a spot by one of the few Blba trees around for miles and started going through the boxes, pulling out pieces that they could repair and reuse, setting aside what needed to be scrapped. It was mindless work, and so it wasn't long before they started up a game of saigok to pass the time.

Tech, as always, was holed up inside the Marauder. The rest of the squad could hear him tinkering around in there, and had learned to tune out the quiet sounds of clinking and clicking from inside.

This time, though, Echo heard the quiet murmur of his voice, and glanced over at Hunter.

The Sergeant was leaning back against the tree, arms folded and legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. He looked perfectly at peace, but Echo knew that he was very much aware of everything that was going on around him.

And yet he hadn’t said anything.

Echo frowned and turned to look over his shoulder, but all he could see was the open ramp of the Marauder, the top of which was hidden by a row of tall, green plants.

He turned back to his game with Hunter, trying to concentrate on the board and the pieces, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was amiss.

It didn't take him long to lose his second piece. Hunter, ever the tactician, didn't comment on it, and so the two played on, both lost in their own thoughts until Echo couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

"Do you think Tech's alright?"

Hunter opened his eyes, looking at Echo. His expression didn't change, but he sat up straighter. “I'm sure he's fine."

Echo wasn't convinced. "He's been up there for a while. I don't think I've ever seen him this quiet."

Hunter shrugged. "He's probably tinkering with his new project, the one he keeps in his bunk."

"But—“

"I can hear him talking," Hunter interrupted, closing his eyes again. "He's just not talking to us. You know he does that sometimes."

“That's not the point." Echo looked back over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Tech was doing. "Something doesn't feel right."

Hunter was quiet for a moment, and then let out a sigh. “He’s talking to her.”

"Who? Omega?"

"No."

Echo thought back over the past months. He'd overheard Tech muttering to himself several times, but it was never about a her, as far as he could tell. Then it hit him.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"But she's—“

"I know," Hunter said. He sighed again and shifted, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back against the trunk. “But that's how Tech copes. He talks to her. She's not gone, not for him."

Echo wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, and so he didn't. Instead, he got to his feet and headed over to the Marauder.

Inside the cockpit, he could see the back of Tech's head as he sat in the pilot's seat. The door was open, and so Echo didn't feel the need to announce his presence. He walked down the hall, listening closely.

"—and the power converters in the shield generators have been giving me trouble lately. I'll need to do a more thorough investigation soon."

Echo ducked next to the wall of the cockpit, listening. Tech was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little softer.

"You would love this planet, Sarad. There are hundreds of new species of creatures and flora to document. It's very beautiful here. You would enjoy the sunshine."

Echo felt a sharp pain in his chest. It wasn't just his mechanical parts, though those often ached with phantom pains, especially when it rained. This pain was different, and it made him pause. Your loss had hit them all hard, and even now, months later, he could feel the lingering effects.

Tech had taken it the hardest. Your relationship hadn't been a secret, and he'd spent nearly every waking hour with you when he could. And then...

Don't, he told himself, pushing the memories away. Just don't.

But he couldn't stop himself from looking up, his gaze landing on the little shelf that hung above Tech's bunk. On it among the scattered parts and tools sat a little model ship, a small clay flower, and a holo-pic.

It was a photo of the six of them, back on Coruscant, when things had been simpler. You were sitting on a crate, legs crossed, hands on your knees, a grin on your face. The others were gathered around you, and you couldn't tell by their smiles how much you had begged and pleaded with them to sit still for five minutes.

"What's the point of taking a holo-pic if we aren't going to smile?"

"A holo-pic isn't worth the hassle."

"Come on, it'll be fun! Tech, come here. I want you to be in it, too."

"But I'm busy."

"Please? For me?"

"...Very well."

Tech wasn't even looking at the camera, he was too busy watching you.

You had noticed, and you had reached over and gently nudged his arm, and the holo-pic captured the moment perfectly.

After the click of the camera you had jumped to your feet, excitedly showing off your own copy. Tech had tried to act indifferent, but Echo had noticed him looking at it often, and more than once had caught him smiling softly as he did so.

It had been Omega who suggested that the photo be added to the little shelf, despite never knowing you. And after a little persuasion from the rest of the crew, Tech had finally relented.

And now the picture was tucked into a frame next to the little clay flower you had made, the ship hanging above it. They were the only two things on the shelf that didn't belong to Tech, and they were the two things that Echo had never seen him without.

Echo hadn't thought much about it, but the memory was suddenly crystal clear. Tech, his arm around your waist, a soft smile on his face. The look in his gaze was unmistakable.

He loved you.

And now he was never going to see you again.

Echo looked away, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat. He didn't want to intrude any more than he already was, and so he retreated back down the ramp.

When he got back to the tree, Hunter had abandoned their game and was now sitting cross legged, elbows resting on his knees. He watched Echo approach and raised his eyebrows.

"Well?"

Echo sighed and sat down. "You were right."

"What did he say?"

Echo looked down, picking up a loose twig and turning it over in his hands. "Just...talking to her. About what they would do, if she was here."

Hunter didn't reply, and so Echo continued, "She'd like it here. It's peaceful. No wars."

He could feel Hunter's eyes on him, but kept his own eyes on the twig, running his thumb over the smooth bark.

"He's still waiting for her."

"I know."

Echo sighed. He hated not knowing what to do, especially when it came to Tech. "I wish he would talk to us about it. She's been gone for nearly four months. You'd think he would have let her go by now."

Hunter shook his head. "You and I both know that he's not going to let her go. Not as long as there's a chance she's still out there."

"But there isn't a chance," Echo pointed out, "He saw her fall, didn't he?"

"That's not what he believes."

"Why not?"

"You know why not," Hunter replied. "She was the only person who saw the galaxy the same way he did. They understood each other, and not in the way that we do."

"So what, we just let him go on thinking that she might still be out there? It's not good for him, you have to know that."

Hunter didn't respond right away.

"Tech knows what he's doing," he said finally. "If he wants our help, he'll ask for it. For now, we have to respect his boundaries. And that means no talking about her, not even in passing. If Tech wants to think that she's still out there, then that's what we have to let him believe. That's how he copes."

Echo wasn't thrilled, but he didn't want to go against Hunter's wishes, and so he stayed silent. He turned his attention back to the box of spare parts, and for a while the two of them worked in silence. But every once in a while, Echo would glance up at the Marauder and the tiny figure that was hunched over the navicomputer.

He knew that Hunter was right. There wasn't much that he could do to help. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Tech stared at the datapad in his hand, but his mind wasn't really on the screen. Instead, his thoughts were turned towards the planet outside and the sun-soaked fields that he had left his brothers in. He knew that it was a beautiful day, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go out there.

Not while Sarad wasn't with him.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the datapad, knuckles turning white. A sudden surge of anger coursed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to hurl the datapad across the cockpit, but he managed to reign it in and set the device down on the console, his grip still tight.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much, having to spend this day alone. The anniversary of your first meeting had never seemed like a big deal to him before. Of course, that was because you had been there. Now, though, with nothing but empty space between him and the rest of the galaxy, he had never felt so isolated.

He had been trying to distract himself, but none of his usual tinkering projects could hold his attention. Nothing seemed to be able to block out the emptiness, and his anger.

Tech had never liked anger. It was messy, unorganized, and dangerous. It had been a long time since he had last felt the full force of his anger, but now it was back, and it was worse than before.

Because, unlike before, his anger was mixed with grief.

You had talked about it once, when you were lying in his bunk, curled up against each other, your head tucked against his neck, fingers tracing absent patterns over his chest.

"What would you do, if something happened to me?"

He had frowned, not understanding why you would ask him such a thing. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Just pretend," you'd insisted. "If I were gone, what would you do?"

He had tried to imagine it, and the thought had sent a chill down his spine. He had never felt that way about someone before, and the thought of losing you was too terrible to even consider.

"I'd find you," he'd said.

"But what if you couldn't?"

"That is not possible. There is no place that you could go that I would not follow. Even if we were separated by the entire galaxy, I would still find a way."

"Tech, come on. Pretend with me. If you couldn't find me, and you thought I was gone, what would you do?"

He had considered your words for a moment, then answered, "I would keep looking. You wouldn't leave me. Not without telling me first."

You had lifted your head, a small, sad smile on your lips. "How do you know that?"

"I just do."

The look in your eyes was indecipherable. "You can't know that. There are no guarantees, Tech. If I'm gone, then I'm gone. I'm part of the living Force, and eventually I'll return. You can't stay stuck on me. You'll have to move on, one way or another."

He hadn't liked that idea. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of her being gone.

"No."

"Tech..."

"No," he'd said, more firmly this time. "You wouldn't leave. You wouldn't. And I will always find you."

Your eyes were shining, and he didn't understand.

"Why are you talking about this?" he'd asked. "There's no reason for you to leave. You'll stay with us."

"You don't know that. There's a war, Tech, anything could happen."

"No."

"But—"

"We are not talking about this anymore." He'd said, cutting you off. He couldn't bear to think about it, and he was beginning to feel uneasy. You were the first person who had ever cared about him, and the idea of losing you was unfathomable.

"But—"

"Stop," he'd said, more harshly than he'd meant to.

You'd stopped, staring at him. Then, slowly, your head had lowered, and you'd pressed your face against his neck again.

"I'm sorry," you'd said quietly.

"It's alright," he'd replied, feeling bad about the way he had snapped at you. He hadn't meant to get angry, but the thought of losing you was terrifying. He needed you.

You'd pulled yourself closer, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as tightly as you could. He'd hugged you back, and the two of you had laid there together, and eventually, you had fallen asleep. 

Tech lied awake that night, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine what it would be like if you were gone.

He hadn't been able to do it.

And yet, here he was, barely keeping a tight grip on his emotions, the ache in his chest threatening to consume him.

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

Tech had always tried to accept things as they were. It was easier, and he had never found it worth the effort to question his reality. Sarad, though, had been different.

Sarad had never accepted the world as it was. You had never allowed yourself to settle for things that were. And so you had changed everything, just by being there. But now you were gone. And so the galaxy, and his life, had returned to its previous state.

Tech's eyes burned, but he was able to keep the tears at bay. It was the same way that he had done every day since you fall.

It isn't fair, he thought again. It isn't fair.

If only you were here, Sarad. You could fix this. You could fix anything.

His thoughts drifted back to his brothers, who were undoubtedly wondering what was wrong with him. He knew that they had questions, but they would never ask him. They had an unspoken agreement to never talk about you, and while he appreciated their respect, he couldn't help but wish that they would break it, just this once.

Then maybe he wouldn't have to sit here alone, the cockpit cold and dark around him, as he tried to keep his anger under control.

Sarad would have known what to do.

A memory surfaced, and for the first time in months, he let it come.

It had been early in the morning, and they had been on an unknown planet, waiting for a storm to pass before they could leave. They had all been asleep, except for Sarad, who had decided to go outside to get some air. You had asked him if he wanted to come with you, and so the two of you had stepped outside into the cool darkness.

The storm clouds had blocked out the stars and the moonlight, and it was pitch black outside. You had held onto his arm, and he had kept a hand on the blaster at his hip, as neither of them could see more than a few feet in front of them. And when you were far enough away from camp, you stopped.

"Isn't it amazing?"

Tech had looked at you. "What is?"

"The universe," you said, staring up at the sky. "All the planets, and the stars, and the endless possibilities."

"It's certainly a vast place," Tech had replied, "but what exactly makes it amazing?"

"The fact that it exists."

"Many things exist. Most people wouldn't find that particularly exciting."

"True," you had said. "But it's different when it comes to the universe."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I suppose I could compare it to an individual," you had mused, "If you had lived your whole life knowing only the inside of one small house, and then suddenly you found out that there was a whole galaxy beyond it, wouldn't you be excited to see the stars?"

"I would be curious, yes."

"I feel the same way, but with the universe. Every time I look up at the stars, I know that there are millions of other planets, with thousands of other species. The sheer chance of a person like me existing in a place like this is astounding. So many things have had to go just right, and even then, the probability of my being here, now, is almost infinitesimal."

"The chances of a life such as ours are incredibly slim," Tech had agreed.

"I think that's what makes it special."

"What do you mean?"

"The universe is infinite," you had explained, "So the chances of my ever meeting someone from another part of the galaxy are infinitesimally small. But because the universe is infinite, that means that there are an infinite number of possibilities. And so there's a possibility that we could meet, that we could work together. The chances are so slim that they're practically nonexistent, but the possibilities are infinite."

"I don't know that I would have ever thought about it that way."

"Well, then, maybe we could explore the infinite possibilities of the universe together," you had suggested with a shrug of your shoulder. "It'll be fun. Just the two of us."

"And what if our infinite possibilities are limited to the confines of a single ship?"

"That would be fine," you had told him, smiling. "As long as we're together, then it doesn't matter where we go."

The memory ended there, and Tech blinked, realizing that his vision was blurry. A single tear had escaped his control, and he reached up and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He missed you.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many words that had never been said. There was so much that you had left unfinished, so many plans and ideas that you had yet to accomplish, and now he feared it was too late.

Tech turned his focus back to his datapad, scrolling through the files. He stopped on one in particular, and for a moment, just looked at it.

Then he hit play.

It was a video, recorded shortly after his brothers had left you alone for the night. He hadn't been sure why he had made it at the time, but looking back now, he could see the reason. He had wanted to remember you.

The video began to play, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you, bathed in the pale light of the computer, eyes shining as you spoke. You looked at the camera, and for a moment, Tech felt as though you were looking straight at him.

He couldn't hear the words, not anymore. But he knew them by heart, and so his mouth moved silently as he watched the recording, committing every moment, every gesture, every expression to memory.

“What are you doing?” Sarad asked, looking at the camera.

Tech had shifted, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"Just...recording."

"Recording what?"

"This," he had answered, gesturing around him. It hadn’t been a very good answer, and you had laughed.

"Why?"

"To...to document our trip."

"That sounds very scientific."

"It is."

"Well, I don't really understand," you had replied, "But I suppose you could always explain it to me later."

"I'll have to. I'm sure you'll have plenty of questions."

"Then you'll have to tell me everything," you had said. "And don't leave anything out. I want to know every detail."

"That will take quite a while."

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Perhaps," you had replied. Then, smiling, "Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

"Then perhaps I will tell you," he had said.

You had smiled, and he had smiled back.

"I look forward to it."

When the video ended, he started it again, watching the familiar image, memorizing the way your hands moved and the curve of your smile and the brightness of your eyes. He watched it until his eyes burned, and then he watched it once more.

And when the pain became too much, and the anger rose up and threatened to overwhelm him, he played it again, and again, and again.

And eventually, the pain subsided, and the anger was pushed aside, and all he felt was you.

"I look forward to it," the recording said.

"I do, too," Tech murmured.

“You’ll have to tell me everything.”

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

He could see the love in your eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t even considered the possibility. But looking back now, the memory of your love was so clear, and it took his breath away.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

He watched the video once more, and when it was over, he closed the tab and stared at his reflection in the blank screen.

He could still feel the anger, but it had lessened, and was no longer directed at the universe. It was, instead, aimed at himself.

You should have known, he thought, his fingers tightening around the edges of the datapad. You should have seen the signs. You should have said something.

It isn’t a logical thought. He couldn’t have known what would happen on Kaller and everything that followed, and he had had no reason to believe that anything would change.

And yet, his mind was convinced that he had missed something, that he could have prevented you from ever leaving his side.

It isn't logical, but he still feels it.

Slowly, his grip on the datapad eased, and he turned his attention back to his reflection. He saw his eyes were rimmed with red, and his hair was tousled from where he had run his hands through it.

Sarad would have liked that.

You would have teased him for his messy hair, and then you would have smoothed it out and laughed. You would have been the only person he would have let do something like that.

His hands were shaking, and he took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

It will pass, he told himself. It will pass. I will see her again. It will pass.

He repeated the phrase over and over in his mind, letting the words fill him and block out the anger. He had lost you, but you weren't gone. Not forever. 

There, buried in the scores of data files and programs that made up his datapad, was the last message he received from you. Dated nearly three months ago, it was heavily encrypted, and he’d required a cypher to unlock it.

Inside, there was a simple message:

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Tech had spent the first month after Kaller trying to decipher the message. It had taken him days, but when he finally figured it out, the words had been like a lifeline. There were no coordinates, and no indication of where you had gone. All Tech had was your promise, and his belief that you would always keep your word. He knew that the message was a risk, but you had known that he would never stop looking, and so you had sent him something to hold on to, and it had been enough.

He had held onto your words since, keeping them close to his heart. He had read the message hundreds of times, and had never gotten tired of it. And whenever he felt lost, or alone, or angry, he would read it once more, and allow the words to guide him back.

They were a promise, and so he would wait.

He would wait, and when you came back to him, he would be ready. He would never let you go. 

Then, as the sun began to set outside, he put the datapad aside and looked up. Outside the window, the stars were beginning to appear. And, he thought, if his infinite possibilities were limited to the confines of a single ship, then he would spend the rest of his life traveling with you.

And so he turned the lights off and sat in the dark, the stars reflecting in his goggles as he gazed out at the galaxy.

And he waited.

Tech waited until the others had fallen asleep before settling into the cockpit. He didn't want any distractions, just as he didn’t want his brothers to worry. They would, though, even without him saying a word. They were good at that.

He didn’t mind, though. He only wished he could tell them the truth. But it wasn’t his secret to share. They wouldn’t believe him anyway, he knew, and so it was better this way.

So, when the lights were out and the engines had quieted, he slipped away from the bunks and down the hall, taking his place at the pilot's seat.

He sat down and leaned back, getting comfortable before he took out his datapad and typed in the code. A single message appeared on the screen, and Tech read it one more time, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Satisfied, he closed the message and lifted his hand to the recording device on his goggles, and started a new file.

"Hello Sarad. Today, we logged a total of 17 hours in hyperspace, which brings our total log to 18,802 hours. The others have grown tired of counting, but I have continued the process. In fact, I believe we will be able to exceed 20,000 hours by the end of the year."

Tech paused, and then took a deep breath.

"There isn't much to report today, and so I have decided to share a few memories. First, I would like to remind you of the time we were stranded on Mygeeto, when we got lost in the mountains and spent three days trying to find our way back to the others."

Tech smiled, remembering the snow and the cold and the laughter. It was the first time the two of them had ever argued, but by the end of it, they were laughing so hard she could barely walk.

"I recall that I had told you several times to wear warmer clothing," he went on, "but you had insisted that the extra layers would hinder your movement. I am pleased to report that you eventually listened, although not until the second day, and the result was that you had to wear half of my gear and could hardly move without assistance."

He smiled at the memory, and then continued, detailing the various mishaps and misadventures of that mission. “You didn't mind, though, and you even thanked me. I have never heard anyone thank me for being right before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

He paused, and his voice grew quiet.

"You were the first to admit that you had been wrong, and the first to apologize. That was something else that I hadn't experienced before. Your apology was accepted, of course. I never held the incident against you, and I have never been able to be mad at you for more than a few minutes. That hasn't changed, either."

Tech sighed and adjusted his glasses.

"We're almost to our destination. The others are asleep, and the ship is quiet. I know you would enjoy the peace and quiet. There's no sound quite like the hum of the engines, and the silence of space."

He fell silent, thinking about what he wanted to say next. He took another breath, and his next words were spoken almost reverently.

"I miss you, Sarad. I hope you are well. I know that you will contact me when you are ready, and I am confident that it will be soon. But until then, I will keep the record, and I will share it with you when you return. For now, though, I will wait.

"I love you, Sarad. And I will see you soon."

And, his eyes fixed on the stars outside, he reached up and switched off the recording.

For a while, he just sat there, staring out the window at the stars. They blurred, and he blinked, the tears gathering on his eyelashes. He wiped them away, and then looked down at his hands. They were still shaking, and he curled them into fists, trying to stop the tremors.

Eventually, the shaking stopped, and Tech looked up at the stars again. He didn't know why he was shaking, or why his hands were sweating, or why his throat felt so tight.

Perhaps it is because I am afraid, he thought.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was true.

He was afraid, because he didn't know when, or even if, you would contact him again. He didn't know if he would see you again. And even if he did, he didn't know what would happen.

So many questions, and so few answers.

He was used to working with facts, but he was finding that this situation was lacking. And that meant that he didn't know what would happen.

It was frightening, the not knowing.

Tech was used to being in control. It was his job, as the technician and navigator of the team. He had to know how to fix things, and when to do it, and where. But he had no control over you, and no control over the galaxy, and no control over the future.

And that scared him.

But then, suddenly, he remembered something you had said to him, long ago, on a different planet and a different day.

You'd asked him about a strange phenomena occurring on the horizon, and he had floundered in his answer. The best he could ascertain, it was some sort of magnetic field, caused by a large mass of rock below the surface. He hadn’t been certain, and it had bothered him.

He had been frustrated, but you had only smiled and placed a hand on his arm.

"That's okay," you'd told him. "It doesn't have to have an explanation. It can just be. If we try to figure out the cause of everything, we won't have time to enjoy it.”

He had tried to argue, but had eventually given in.

"Besides," you'd added, "I'd rather spend time with you, and not on finding the answer.”

Your words had surprised him, and for a moment, he hadn’t been able to respond.

"You...want to spend time with me?"

"Of course I do," you had replied.

"But...why?"

"Because I love you."

He'd been speechless.

"Oh," he'd said.

You'd laughed, and he had been able to do nothing but stand there and stare at you.

"I'm sorry," you had said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no," he had managed. "It's...I'm fine. Just...you..."

"Love you?"

"Yes."

"I do."

"Oh."

Tech had had no idea how to respond. The words didn't seem real. But when you had smiled, and reached for his hand, he had finally begun to understand.

"I'm sorry," you had apologized again. "I've wanted to say that for a while, but I wasn't sure how. I thought that you would find it odd."

“You are odd, yes," he had agreed, "but not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I find you to be odd in a pleasant way," he had explained. "You're...different. In a good way."

"That's very poetic, coming from you."

"I was not being poetic," he had corrected you. "I was simply stating the truth."

Sarad had laughed again. "So what is it, then?"

"You are unique," he had told you. "There is no one else like you. You are an anomaly, and a rare one at that. I am glad to have met you."

You had been quiet for a moment.

"I'm glad, too," you had said.

And then you had kissed him, and he had felt something new and exciting and wonderful.

"I love you," you had murmured.

He had been unable to say the words back, but he had known that he would say them one day. And, after that, every day.

And so he had kissed you, and the two of you had watched the lightshow together, and it had been perfect.

Tech looked up at the stars now, remembering the way the sky had glowed, and the warmth of your hand on his arm.

That was where his memory ended. But the words came back to him, and he found himself repeating them.

"I love you," he whispered.

The words seemed small and insignificant compared to the vastness of space, and the galaxy, and all the planets and stars beyond. But they were real, and they were true, and that was all that mattered.

They were real, and so were you.

And the not knowing was terrifying, but Tech was patient. He would wait, and he would see you again. And the words would mean more then, because he would be able to say them, and you would hear them, and everything would be alright.

Tech believed in the infinite possibilities of the universe, and this was his.

This was his, and so he would wait, and he would remember, and he would know that the words were true, and someday, he would say them to you again.

Every day, Tech waited for a signal.

And every day, there was nothing.

His patience began to wane, and every time the Marauder made a stop, he would search the area for a sign, a clue, anything that would lead him to you. But he never found anything, and he would have to go back to the ship empty-handed.

His recordings to you were becoming short, and less frequent. He couldn't hide the bitterness and disappointment from his voice, and so he recorded fewer messages.

He didn't know why you hadn't contacted him. Maybe it was because you didn't want to.

But no. You loved him.

He didn't want to consider the alternative.

You loved him. You wouldn't have left him.

Would you?

He didn't know, and that scared him.

What if you didn't want to see him? What if you had found someone else?

What if you had realized that you were better off without him?

No.

You loved him. You would never leave him. Not forever.

And yet, he was beginning to wonder.

What if it had been a mistake? What if he had been wrong, and you weren't safe, or alive?

No.

You were alive. You had to be.

And yet, as the days wore on, he found himself doubting.

The distance between them was supposed to keep her safe, but maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe something had happened. Maybe you had changed your mind.

He tried to reassure himself. You were a capable Jedi, and if anyone could handle themselves in the face of danger, it was you.

But the longer you were gone, the harder it was to convince himself that you were still alive.

It didn't help that he hadn't received a single message since that first one. He'd had no word, no hint of your location, or condition, or state of mind.

It was frustrating, and he hated it.

He hated the waiting, and the uncertainty.

And so, as the months went by, and the number of his messages began to dwindle, his doubt grew. Much had changed in his life in the last months. They’d stopped fighting, stopped running, and had moved on to a new place to call home.

They had moved on, and so had he.

Well, most of him.

Some part of him was still waiting, and some part of him was still looking for a sign, for a message, for anything that would let him know that you were alive.

And, as the months went by, he realized that this wasn't going to change.

So he recorded one final message.

"Hello, Sarad. I know that this will be the last recording I make, as I am unsure when, or if, you will ever return. But I want to assure you that I am doing well, and so are my brothers.

"We are settled on a planet called Pabu, and we are all enjoying the peace and quiet. I know that you would enjoy the atmosphere here, as well. The sunsets are particularly beautiful, and I can't help but wonder if you have seen any yourself."

He paused, his throat constricting slightly.

"I miss you," he said quietly. "But I hope that you are happy, wherever you are. I know that it isn't fair of me to ask, and I don't expect an answer, but I do wish you would tell me.

"Tell me if you are safe. Tell me if you are well. Tell me if you have forgotten me. Please, Sarad, just tell me something. Anything."

He was quiet for a moment, and then shook his head.

"But you won't answer, will you? And you won't tell me. And so I will have to move on. It is the logical thing to do, and I am certain that it will benefit me greatly."

Tech fell silent again. His throat felt dry, and his eyes were burning. He didn't know why, but it was getting hard to breathe.

"I want to apologize," he continued, "for being so impatient. And I want to tell you that I don't blame you, and that I still care for you, and that I understand if you have chosen to forget me. But I want to thank you for the time we spent together. It was an experience unlike any other, and I am grateful for it. I will not forget you, Sarad. I hope that you will not forget me."

Tech's hands were trembling, and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"I hope you are well. And, if we never meet again, I wish you luck. I wish you happiness. And, most of all, I wish you peace."

Tech paused, and then, in a small voice, added:

"I love you."

The last message uploaded to his datapad, and Tech stared down at the file, his heart aching. He could feel the tears beginning to fall, and he wiped them away angrily.

Why was he crying? There was no reason to.

But still, the tears continued, and Tech let them come. He would cry for Sarad, and for the life that he would never have with you. He would cry for the love that he had lost, and the pain that he had endured, and the hope that had slowly died inside him.

And, when his tears were spent, he would close the file, and he would put his emotions aside, and he would move on.

He would have to.

Because that was the logical thing to do.

Tech looked up, and the stars were blurred by the tears. He blinked, and the image cleared.

He would have to move on.

He would have to, but not yet.

His finger hovered over the message, and then he pressed delete.

The file disappeared, and Tech watched the screen for a moment, the only sound the beating of his own heart.

He would have to move on, but not yet.

Not tonight.

Not while the sky was so full of stars. Not while the night was so quiet, and the wind so gentle, and the grass so soft beneath his feet.

Not while the memories were so clear.

Tech leaned back against the cool metal of the ship, his eyes fixed on the stars, and he let his thoughts drift.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, and the way you had touched him, and the way you had loved him. He remembered the way your hair had shone in the starlight, and the way your hands had felt against his skin. He remembered the way your lips had tasted, and the way your arms had held him, and the way your laughter had sounded, so sweet and joyful and free.

And he remembered the way the moonlight had danced across your features, and the way the breeze had ruffled your hair, and the way your smile had made him feel alive.

Tech closed his eyes, and let the memories wash over him.

And for a moment, just one brief, shining moment, the darkness was filled with starlight.

The day started like any other.

Tech woke up at the same time, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen, where Hunter was already making breakfast. He sat down at the table, and began scrolling through the daily news on his datapad, searching for anything of interest.

"Anything interesting happen yesterday?" Hunter asked, placing a plate of food in front of him.

"Not much," Tech replied, taking a bite of his breakfast. "A few minor scuffles, and a large cargo transport crash. It seems that the pilot was intoxicated, and he managed to take out half a block."

"Sounds fun," Hunter replied dryly. "Anything else?"

"Just the usual," Tech replied.

Hunter hummed in acknowledgement, and then asked, "How about last night? Did you stay up late recording more of those messages?"

Tech hesitated. He hadn't told Hunter about the messages, or any of his brothers. He assumed they knew, but they couldn’t know their purpose, and so he had kept the messages private.

"Yes," he finally answered. "I did."

"How many do you have now?"

"A few," Tech answered, his tone noncommittal.

"How many is a few?"

"Several."

"Dozens?"

"Yes." He twisted his mouth. “Hundreds.”

"Have you ever thought about sharing them?"

"No," Tech answered immediately.

"Why not?"

"Because they're private," Tech replied, his voice a little sharper than intended. “Because they're for her, and only her."

Hunter sighed, and Tech could feel the disappointment in the sound. He knew that his brother didn't understand his actions, but Tech didn't need him to. He knew what he was doing.

"You're still waiting, then."

"Yes."

"Tech, it's been over a year," Hunter said quietly. "She's gone."

"She's not gone," Tech replied, his grip on his fork tightening.

"Tech," Hunter repeated, his voice firmer.

His fork clattered against the plate, and Tech pushed his chair back, standing up.

"She's not dead," he snapped, his hand curling into a fist. "She's alive. She has to be."

"Tech, please," Hunter pleaded. "Don't go. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Tech shot back. "And I don't need you to tell me what to do. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a message to record."

He rounded the table, brushing past his brother. But as he did, Hunter reached out and caught his arm. Tech glared at him, but Hunter didn't flinch. He just looked at him, and Tech felt his anger falter.

"Vod," Hunter said, his voice low. "Please. She's not coming back. And these recordings are just going to make things worse. "I know it's hard, but you have to let her go."

"I will," Tech replied. "But not today."

"Tech..."

"No," Tech cut him off. He pulled his arm from Hunter's grip and straightened his shoulders. "I won't do it."

"Tech, please," Hunter said. "I just want you to be happy."

"I will," Tech replied, his voice tight. "But not today."

"Alright, Tech." Hunter sighed and stepped back, his hand falling to his side. "Alright. Not today."

"Thank you," he managed. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I will see you at dinner, I assume."

"Of course," Hunter replied, his voice equally quiet.

Tech left the kitchen and made his way back to his room, ignoring the stares of Wrecker and Omega as he passed. He was sure they would ask Hunter about his outburst, and he was sure that Hunter would tell them. He didn't care. Let them talk. They didn't know anything.

He knew that they thought he was delusional. That he was clinging to false hope. That he was denying reality. And maybe they were right. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't just give up. Not when there was a chance, no matter how small, that he would see you again. And until that chance was gone, he would continue to wait.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Tech dropped onto his bed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His leg bounced restlessly at his side, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

It was too loud, too bright, too much.

He needed to calm down. He needed to focus.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat, on the feeling of the sheets beneath his fingers. You had helped him practice this exercise before, and he could remember the way you had guided him, your voice soft and gentle as you sat next to him on the floor of the cockpit.

Tech inhaled deeply, and then exhaled, slowly, letting his breath out in a long, steady stream. The sound of his breathing filled the room, and he felt himself relax. He continued the exercise, repeating the motions until his heart rate had slowed, and his breathing had evened out

He could still feel the anger, but it was lessening. He could still hear the voices of his brothers, but they were becoming muffled. He could still see the sunlight filtering through the window, but the glare was beginning to fade.

He breathed, and the world around him settled. He felt drained, and he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He was supposed to see you again. You were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be safe.

You weren't supposed to be gone.

Tech didn't move for a long time, and when he finally did, it was only to get up and check his datapad. He had no new messages, and so he placed it on the nightstand and turned away.

The day dragged on, and Tech did his best to keep himself occupied. He tinkered with his new projects, cleaned the kitchen, and reorganized his storage of supplies. He didn’t speak at dinner, and no one commented. By the time evening rolled around, he was exhausted, and he found himself back in his room, alone with his thoughts.

He didn't know what to do, and so he sat on his bed, the datapad in his hands, and waited.

The day had been uneventful, and the hours had passed slowly. The sun had set, and the stars had come out, and still, he had no answers.

It was late now, and he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. Not with the anger and frustration and hurt gnawing at his heart.

He didn't know why he was feeling this way, and it only made him angrier.

He wanted answers, but there were none.

There were no messages, no clues, no sign of you.

Just the stars, and the darkness, and the silence.

Tech sighed, and placed the datapad on the nightstand once more. He resigned himself to another sleepless night, and was about to turn out his light when a hard knock pounded on his door.

Tech jolted upright, his heart leaping in his chest. He hadn't expected anyone, and for a moment, he could only sit there, his mind racing.

The door swung open, and Wrecker came barreling in. The force of the door hitting the wall sent a shower of dust raining down from the ceiling, and Tech held his breath as he saw Sarad's clay flower teeter on its perch.

"Tech!" Wrecker bellowed.

"Wrecker, keep it down," Tech hissed, leaping forward to steady the flower. "The others are asleep."

“You need to come outside. Now."

"What?" Tech turned, the flower in his hands. "Why?"

"Just come," Wrecker replied.

"Fine," Tech sighed, carefully placing the flower back on the shelf. As soon as it was back in its place, Wrecker wrapped a hand around his arm and dragged him from the room.

"Wrecker," Tech protested. "Let me go."

"Sorry, can't do that," Wrecker replied, practically shoving him down the hall.

They were nearly at the front door when Hunter and Omega appeared, their eyes wide and hair messy.

"What's going on?" Tech asked, trying and failing to pry his brother's hand off his arm.

"Echo just landed," Hunter replied. "He says there's something we need to see."

Tech’s brow furrowed in confusion. They hadn’t been expecting Echo to return for several weeks, and he had no idea what could be so urgent.

"What is it?"

"He wouldn't say," Hunter replied. "But he sounded pretty shaken."

Tech felt a twinge of worry. Echo wasn't the type to overreact, and if he was acting strangely, there was probably a good reason.

"Then we should hurry," Tech said, his voice tense.

"Right," Hunter replied. "Come on."

They followed Hunter out the door, and up the path that led to the landing pad. They didn't speak, and Tech was glad. He didn't think he would be able to carry a conversation right now. The village was dark, and the streets were empty. The only sound was the echo of their footsteps as they hurried along.

Finally, they reached the landing pad, and Tech saw the outline of the Remora in the distance, its lights glowing softly.

As they approached, Echo strode down the ramp, his face drawn and pale.

"Hey," Hunter said, his voice worried. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Echo replied, his voice shaky. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Echo said, his voice trembling slightly. "But I think you should see this."

He gestured to the ship, and Tech and his brothers stepped forward, following Echo up the ramp.

The inside of the Remora was dimly lit, and Tech squinted, trying to make out the details. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that there was someone sitting in the navigator's chair.

"Echo, what—“

His question died in his throat as the figure turned around, and Tech felt the world tilt beneath his feet.

It was you.

You were here.

You were alive.

Your name came out as a strangled cry, and he stumbled towards you, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear his brothers calling out behind him, their voices distant and muted. He barely registered their words, or their presence, or anything other than the sight of you in front of him.

You were real.

"Sarad," he breathed.

Your lips curled into a smile, and you reached out, your hand resting gently on his cheek. Your touch was warm, and soft, and familiar, and he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

"My love," you whispered, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound of your voice to wash over him. It was music, and joy, and home, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"Sarad," he murmured, leaning into your touch.

"I'm here," you replied softly. He felt the tears spilling over, and you wiped them away gently.

"You're here," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

"Tech." You said his name like a prayer, and he opened his eyes, gazing at you. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

He didn't reply. Instead, he closed the distance between you, and his arms were around you before he even realized what he was doing. He pulled you to him, his grip tightening as he felt the solid warmth of your body. You were here. You were real.

"You're here," he breathed, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "You're alive."

"Yes." Your voice shook, and your arms tightened around him. "I'm here. I'm alive."

He held you for a moment longer, and then drew back, his hands cupping your face. He studied your features, taking in the sight of you. You looked tired, but there was no mistaking the warmth and affection in your gaze.

“You changed your hair," he said, running a hand through the short strands. The words came out hoarse and broken, and he swallowed thickly, trying to regain control.

"Yeah," you murmured, your fingers curling around his wrist.

"It suits you," he said. He was having a hard time forming complete sentences. He wanted to say so many things, but the words were stuck in his throat.

You laughed, the sound weak and breathless, but it was a laugh, and Tech found himself smiling.

"Tech, I'm sorry," you said, your voice shaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to contact you. I couldn't—“

"It's alright," Tech said, his voice quiet. "It's okay. You're here now."

"I missed you," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

"I missed you too," he replied, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “I can't believe you're here. I didn't think—"

He broke off, his voice faltering.

"You're really here," he whispered.

"Yes," you replied, your hand curling around his.

"I was so afraid," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I thought...I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm sorry," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," Tech said, his voice steadying. "I don't care about the past. All that matters is that you're here. You're alive. You're home."

"Home," you repeated, your eyes meeting his. "That sounds nice."

He kissed you then, and he felt your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He poured every ounce of love and longing and joy into the kiss, and when you finally drew back, both of you were breathless.

"I love you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

"I didn't say it enough." Tech's voice was thick with emotion.

"That's okay," you said, a smile spreading across your lips. "I knew."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I should have said it. Every day."

"You can start now," you said, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I love you," he breathed. "So much."

"I love you, too," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

Tech drew you into another kiss, and this one was softer, more tender. It was a promise, and a vow, and a declaration of love, and when he pulled back, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Your eyes were bright with tears, and your lips were trembling, but you were alive. You were here, and you were safe. And he loved you so much, it was like a physical ache.

"Don't cry," he murmured, brushing them away.

"I'm sorry," you laughed weakly. "I just can't believe it. I never thought...I'm just so happy. So, so happy."

"I am too," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "So happy. And I have so much to tell you. So much has happened. But...there is time for that later. For now, I just want to be here. With you."

"Yes," you whispered. "I'd like that."

You leaned in, resting your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. And, as you clung to him, and the tears began to fall, Tech couldn’t help but be grateful for the infinite possibilities of the universe, and the chance it had given him to be with you again.

Taglist: @covert1ntrovert @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @arctrooper69 @qvnthesia @heidnspeak @Kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @baddest-batchers @cw80831 @lovelytech9902

[talyayet474]

Dakota Fanning

[arsene-fixates]

"and I will love you tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and still many more, so very many more tomorrows"

commission by @siruerto

[lovelyskirts]

I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH AS SHE’S SO LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL, GORGEOUS, HEAVENLY, SMART, ELEGANT, HANDSOME, AND PRETTY IN PINK!!! 💕💕💕 This is so lovely, pretty, gorgeous, elegant, heavenly, smart, and beautiful!!! 💕💕💕 I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH!!! 💕💕💕 She’s looking SO LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL, ELEGANT, HEAVENLY, SMART, GORGEOUS, AND PRETTY IN PINK!!!! 💕💕💕 She’s wearing a very lovely, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, heavenly, smart, elegant, and handsome pink accordion pleated skirt with very lovely and pretty pockets 💕💕💕 a very lovely and pretty buttoned pink floral blouse 💕💕💕lovely dress shoes, very lovely updo 💕💕💕 and very lovely and pretty Mary Kay makeup. 💕💕💕 The flowers surrounding her make the look so lovely and pretty. 💕💕💕 She would pair this with a very lovely and pretty pink clutch, pocketbook, and makeup bag, making the look very, very lovely and pretty. 💕💕💕 She would wear this every year on Valentine’s Day, as she loves the color pink and she loves floral outfits and would pair this with a very lovely pink clutch, pocketbook, and lovely pink makeup bag by Mary Kay along with very lovely pink and red flowers, making this look so lovely, pretty, beautiful, elegant, and smart. 💕💕💕 She’s looking so lovely, beautiful, elegant, gorgeous, heavenly, smart, and pretty in pink and I love this so much!!! 💕💕💕

[kkoraki]

i've kept this in for years... i need to know what was going through elliott park's head when he composed the soldier and the oak

[jrueships]

Love the idea of Josh and Stef and Trey having a Jay Z, Beyonce, Solange thing going on

NOOO NOT JAYZ JOSH NOOO 😭😭😭

[merriclo]

bro just beat totk. goddamn.

[destinyandcoins]

just thinking about the all-encompassing love humanity has for our little moon and how great it is that basically everyone throughout history has admired it and written poetry and music and made art about how wonderful it is, and

can y'all imagine if earth had two moons?? the discourse about which celestial body is superior would be insane, and would have been raging for literally all of human history

[talyayet474]

Elle Fanning

[lovelyskirts]

I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH AS SHE’S SO LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL, GORGEOUS, HEAVENLY, SMART, ELEGANT, HANDSOME, AND PRETTY IN PINK!!! 💕💕💕 This is so lovely, pretty, gorgeous, elegant, heavenly, smart, and beautiful!!! 💕💕💕 I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH!!! 💕💕💕 She’s looking SO LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL, ELEGANT, HEAVENLY, SMART, GORGEOUS, AND PRETTY IN PINK!!!! 💕💕💕 She’s wearing a very lovely, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, heavenly, smart, elegant, and handsome pink accordion pleated skirt with very lovely and pretty pockets 💕💕💕 a very lovely and pretty buttoned pink floral blouse 💕💕💕lovely dress shoes, very lovely updo 💕💕💕 and very lovely and pretty Mary Kay makeup. 💕💕💕 The flowers surrounding her make the look so lovely and pretty. 💕💕💕 She would pair this with a very lovely and pretty pink clutch, pocketbook, and makeup bag, making the look very, very lovely and pretty. 💕💕💕 She would wear this every year on Valentine’s Day, as she loves the color pink and she loves floral outfits and would pair this with a very lovely pink clutch, pocketbook, and lovely pink makeup bag by Mary Kay along with very lovely pink and red flowers, making this look so lovely, pretty, beautiful, elegant, and smart. 💕💕💕 She’s looking so lovely, beautiful, elegant, gorgeous, heavenly, smart, and pretty in pink and I love this so much!!! 💕💕💕

[tonycries]

SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones. 

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact. 

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him. 

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him. 

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder. 

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive. 

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-” 

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already. 

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips. 

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue. 

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same. 

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock. 

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth. 

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck. 

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head. 

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck. 

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real 

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls. 

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life. 

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill. 

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection. 

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses. 

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid. 

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind. 

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you. 

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping. 

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too. 

Would you cry out and beg for more? 

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you. 

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets. 

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to. 

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot. 

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now. 

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!! 

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful 

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle. 

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants. 

Addictive…you were so addictive. 

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy. 

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate. 

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD 

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities. 

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva. 

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him. 

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That���s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take. 

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck. 

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin. 

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt. 

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him. 

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else. 

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point. 

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else. 

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out. 

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to. 

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard. 

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you. 

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.” 

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours. 

Close. 

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close. 

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.” 

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed. 

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel. 

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss. 

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes. 

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning. 

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy. 

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare. 

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices. 

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling. 

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck. 

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips. 

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking. 

More. 

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate. 

He’s so sloppy. So loud. 

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it. 

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door. 

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is. 

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another,  gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1 

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie. 

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now. 

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh. 

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer. 

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now. 

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly. 

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene. 

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside- 

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending. 

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit. 

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack! 

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock. 

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk. 

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall. 

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does. 

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie. 

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult. 

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose. 

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence. 

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside. 

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed. 

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n’ I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea.  And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now. 

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck. 

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much. 

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[miraclewoozi]

i don’t think i’ve ever felt this deranged in my entire life

can't get you out of my head

member | fwb!vernon x f reader genre | smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count | 2.4k synopsis | so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging warnings | vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes | june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honestly, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

> taglist | @wonderfulshinee @noniestars @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01 @wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @miriamxsworld @synthetickitsune @simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @98-0603 @fairybinie @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @ifuckcheol @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460 @novalpha @ronnie97b @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari @hyneyedfiz @honestlydooetree @oscarcantread @ktackore @k-drama-adict

> strikethrough means your blog cannot be tagged, please check your visibility settings and make sure they are off so i can tag you properly!

> if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

[cl-addy]

My female friend told me once she lovessss cheating but her bf isn’t into the idea but i so badly want her to force me to watch while she cheats on me

[thevillainswhore]

Loverboy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you.

Warnings: Avengers AU, Bucky’s POV, fluff, crack (my lame attempt at comedy), suggestive thoughts (no smut), just our boy being a lovesick little bean with a big ol’ crush.

Author’s Note: Dividers by @saradika. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier, thank you so much sweetie, I love you!! This was inspired by a wonderful request from @prettyboy56, thank you so much! Hope you enjoy x

“Hi, Bucky.” 

Instantly, he sputtered over his mouthful of cereal, eyes watering from his food going down the wrong way. 

Bucky knew that melodic voice before his gaze even reached its owner. You entered the kitchen, wiggling your fingers at him in greeting. 

Clearing his throat, he swiped his bowl to the side, his breakfast now forgotten about, and directed his attention solely onto you. “Hi—um h—hello, doll.” 

The muscles of your cheeks lifted up to your eyes in a smile that made Bucky swoon. Hard.

Your eyes fell to Sam then, who stood in the corner, fresh from a workout with a shit eating on his face. “Good morning, Samuel.” 

“Mornin’, beautiful. How did you sleep?” 

Bucky fought the growl rising in his throat, the unprecedented possessiveness caving its way through its internal barriers in your presence. 

You grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and closed the door, leaning your back against it to take a big gulp. 

“Not bad at all.” You licked your lips, ridding the dryness that came from a long slumber before your eyes lit up. “Oh, by the way! I drank some of that tea you recommended. It’s helped a bunch—”

Bucky zoned out while you continued to express your gratitude to Sam. He couldn’t help the way his eyes dilated as he rested his head in the palm of his vibranium hand, a lovesick sigh escaping his lips. You were just so gorgeous – a deity in human form right in front of his own very eyes. Bucky had never considered himself so lucky in all his time on earth to be within your vicinity. 

In his own world of oggling, Bucky didn’t notice how the conversation fell short between you and Sam. Neither did he realise how the two of you were staring at him; you with concern and Wilson smothering his laughter with his hand. 

“Bucky? Sweetheart?” He finally registered that you were speaking to him and almost choked, again, on his own spit.

“Mhm?” Bucky murmured, drunk off your attention. 

You smiled once again, so devastatingly beautiful that his left arm whirred in stupor. “Are you okay? You feeling alright?” Not waiting for a response, you walked over to him and Bucky almost let his eyes roll to the back of his head when you lifted your wrist to his forehead. “Jeez, you’re a little hot, Buck.” 

Sam keeled over in hysterics, unable to keep his composure any longer. Meanwhile, a bright red blossom of colour rose up from the skin of Bucky’s neck all the way up to his cheeks. 

Had Bucky not been embarrassingly infatuated by you, the throwaway comment wouldn’t have had any effect on him. But this was you. The woman who had the ability to make him melt on the spot. 

While logic and a basic level of common sense screamed at him that you were talking about his temperature, his mind could only conjure up the fact you had called him hot. 

Bucky saw your mouth moving, however he couldn’t concentrate on the sound of the words coming out of it. You were still touching him, patting his cheeks and sweeping the tendrils of hair that had fell out from behind his ears out of his face. The close proximity of your bodies threw him through a loop and without even realising, his thighs spread further, subconsciously begging you to forego all boundaries and smother yourself against him. 

Gently tapping his nose three times, you managed to gain his full attention again. “You seem out of it, sweetie. Maybe you should go down to the medbay. See if you’re coming down with a fever or something.” 

Sam blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, because that’s what’s wrong with him.” 

You threw a lighthearted glare his way before bringing your eyes back to Bucky. “Promise me you’ll get seen to?” 

How could he refuse when you asked so sweetly? “Anything you want.” He vowed sincerely. 

Scrunching your nose, you chucked his chin and whispered under your breath, “Good boy.”

Bucky almost whimpered when you withdrew your hands and stepped back. He so desperately wanted to follow you and nudge your arm until you paid attention to him once more. Your touch was fire and a cool breeze all at once. Electricity that created static across his stubbled cheek, yet also stoked a warmth through his entire body.  

Peace. He’d never felt anything like it. Never before felt drunk from just the delicate essence of a perfume or experienced the loosening of his limbs, relaxing until his legs felt like jelly whenever you so much as cast him a glance. 

You grabbed a piece of fruit from the table, ready to go down to the gym and train. “Catch you later, Sam,” you called over your shoulder. Meeting Bucky’s eyes a final time, you winked while you headed for the elevator. “Bye, sweetheart.”  

Bucky’s gaze was glued to you, following you out hopelessly until you were completely out of sight. 

He was fucked — well and truly out of his depth. 

Sam crossed his arms and smirked. “You are down bad, man.” 

Bucky swiped a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.” 

“This is serious.” Sam sobered up, his lips softening into an honest smile. 

With an embarrassingly loud thud against the island countertop, Bucky let his head drop. “I have no idea what to do, Sam. I thought this crush would have passed by now but it’s been months.”

“Well,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Have you even tried asking her out?” 

“And why would I do that?” Bucky asked, genuinely confused. 

Sam sputtered over his words. “What do you mean—Because that’s what people do when they like someone, you dumbass!” 

Bucky had lost enough braincells daydreaming about you constantly. He didn’t need to be told what he already knew. But the pressure of asking you out to then have a chance of being rejected? He would never come back from that. “Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on, man. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam asked. 

Bucky lifted his head up and huffed sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she could turn me down and rip my heart out into little pieces, so much that I would hide out in my room for the rest of eternity never to be seen again?” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Bucky sighed longingly. “Let me wallow in my misery alone, Sam.” 

“Why? So you can spend your days staring at her with your googly eyes and drooling over her.” 

“I have never drooled over her,” Bucky snarled. 

A twinkle shone in Sam’s eye, a mischievous grin donning his face. “Then what’s that on your chin?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly brought his hand up to his face to check if he did in fact have any wetness coating his mouth. Finding none, he looked back to Sam with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam shook his head with laughter. “You shouldn’t make it so easy to tease you, loverboy.”  

With a growl, Bucky lifted from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. 

The irritating voice followed him. “Don’t forget training tomorrow morning, loverboy!” 

The sun was shining over the compound the next morning and so came the bright idea from Steve that all exercise activities should be held outside. While the recruits in training buffed up on their sparring with the Captain, the rest of the avengers worked out as they saw fit. 

As usual, Sam took any opportunity possible to annoy Bucky, which brought them together, running laps around the outdoor track. 

“When are you gonna man up and ask her out then, Cyborg? Pretty girl ain’t gonna be available forever.” 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t run ahead of Sam. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t. Maybe the pace he kept alongside Wilson allowed him to stare at you so clearly in your tight workout leggings and sports bra as sweat sensually rolled over your skin. Maybe. 

“I’m not asking her out, Sam. Drop it.” 

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. “Listen, man. It’s not as if you’ve got nothing going for you. As much as you’re a grumpy shit, you’ve got them blue eyes the chicks love. Gets them all gooey when you give them intense eye contact, y’know?” He reluctantly added, “And they dig the brooding, bad boy, leather jacket vibe.”

Bucky let out a rare smile within the presence of Sam. “You tryna hit on me, Wilson?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is you have a chance.” Sam slyly glanced over the field. “And if you don’t quit fuckin’ around, that chance is gonna disappear.”  

The smile instantly dropped from Bucky’s face. “What do you mean by that?” 

Sam’s signature smirk came back with vengeance. “Your girls lookin’ kinda cute today. So I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you ain’t the only one who’s got their eye on her.” 

Naturally, Bucky followed his instinct and let his eyes look over at you. You were a fucking wonder, of course he knew that. But heeding Sam’s ominous warning, Bucky allowed his gaze to venture out, only allowing you to blur into the background for a couple of seconds while he took stock of the other male, and female, recruits. 

Low and behold, plenty of other people wantonly stared at you while you completed your circuit, almost salivating over their barely concealed pining. As much as Bucky hated to admit it, the fucker was right. You were the pinnacle of everyone’s attention. 

With the way you were bending over, squatting and looking like an angel amidst the perspiration the sun brought on, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could actually blame anyone for it. 

That didn’t stop the ugly, green eyed beast within him that wanted to tear everyone’s eyes out for daring to glimpse at you. 

It was silly, he knew he had no right to feel any sort of possessive nature for you. Unfortunately, you didn’t belong to him. Still, he couldn’t control the deep rooted urges that whispered the kinds of fun he’d have gouging out eyeballs that looked where they weren't supposed to. 

Knowing he had stirred the pot enough, Sam figured it was time to try and hit the final nail in the coffin in order to make his friend move his ass. “Y’know what gives you an advantage though, man?” 

Bucky continued to death stare the surrounding agents, while keeping up with his steady jog. “What’s that?”

“Guess who’s making eyes at you right now.” 

At breakneck speed, Bucky snapped his head back around to you, only to indeed find you staring at him with a fire in your eyes and your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. 

A violent shudder ran down his spine and for a moment, the whole world stopped on its axis, allowing Bucky to revel in a daydream brought to life. 

That was until his mind snapped him back into the present. The super soldier was majestic on his feet in a fight, graceful yet utterly dangerous out on the field even with the pressure a mission came with. 

However to his utter bewilderment, you happened to be the most dangerous being he had ever come across, because in all of his years as a trained, professional assassin, Bucky had never, never, tripped over his own feet. 

And so, inevitably, Bucky’s face ungracefully met the asphalt of the outside track with an audible thunk. 

A collective of gasps, oo’s, and ah’s, rang around the large group. Bucky could physically feel the coating of red, hot embarrassment climbing up to his now scratched cheeks.  

Bucky couldn’t see the look of shame and pity on Sam’s face as he dropped his head into his hands. All he was capable of was fantasizing faking his own death and moving far, far away where no one who witnessed his fall could ever find him.  

With a painful, deep groan, Bucky managed to roll himself over. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and allow himself to accept reality yet and so he kept them closed, waiting for the ground to swallow him up or for the beaming sun to slowly incinerate him, melt him into the ground with his shame and dignity. 

But instead of either of those, a shadow casted over him, the harsh brightness behind his eyelids dulling down. Slowly, he peeked an eye open, only for mortification to kick him in the gut when he found you standing over him. 

“You alright there, Soldier?” Your hands were set on your hips, those deliciously curved grooves of your body that he had shamelessly stared at one too many times during gym sessions. 

“Mhm,” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly. “Just peachy.” 

Even though you’d just seen him eat dirt, in front of hundreds of learning recruits and the rest of the avengers, your smile was kind as you held out your hand. “Need some help?” 

Bucky took your offering, sliding his clammy palm into your dry one and hoisted himself up with your grip. He hadn’t needed your help, he was a super soldier with a metal arm; an agility and strength beyond normal human ability. But he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to feel your soft skin against his. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye as he stood up, aware of your gaze glued to him. “Th-Thanks.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Although, you’ve got a few nasty looking cuts on your cheeks.” 

Bucky brought his left hand up to his face, hissing when the cool vibranium stung the open wounds. “Ah, it’s nothin’—don't worry about it. Nothing a few hours won’t fix.” 

You shook your head fondly. “Well, how about I walk you to the infirmary and we get some ointment on them? It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.” 

Bucky choked on his own spit and snapped his eyes to yours. “W-We?” 

Your smile was blinding — so beautiful with an ability to stop time. At least for him anyway. “Yeah, why not? It looks like you could use a hand—y’know, since you’re a little clumsy on your feet today.” The cheeky smirk that followed your words almost sent him to an early grave.

His cheeks blazed. Bucky was sure he looked utterly stupid, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But he couldn’t help the effect you had on him. “I um—I— ha, I guess.” 

Your eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Not trusting his voice to hold steady, Bucky simply nodded. 

“Great,” you approved. “Just one question though, are we going to keep holding hands on the way?”

Looking down to the space between you, Bucky felt his mouth dry when he saw that he hadn’t yet released his hand from yours. “I’m—oh fuck—I’m so sorry.” 

Still, he made no move to slacken his grip. 

You tightened your lips, and he knew you were willing yourself not to laugh for his sake. Sam would have a fucking field day with this. 

Though to his surprise, instead of pulling away like he expected you to, you began pulling him along, hands still interweaved. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, Bucky.”  

His name on your lips was akin to a siren singing her song; dragging helpless seamen to their deaths. A thought crossed his mind then, that he didn’t think he would mind so much if he sank to his reckoning, not if your voice was the last thing he ever heard. 

“Okay.” Bucky followed you blindly, eyes glued to your conjoined hands and disbelieving of his luck. 

You had led the way towards the medbay and found a cozy, private room that the doctors used for small injuries. Bucky sat impatiently on the side of the medical bed, twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting restlessly. Never had he been so close to you, alone. 

Bucky internally prayed with all his faith that you couldn’t hear the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. He was sure if he was hooked up to a monitor, the doctors would be thoroughly concerned about his health. 

Finally having gathered all the supplies you deemed necessary along with a first aid box, you walked back over to the bed and dumped everything next to him. 

“So,” you began, an uneasy conspiratorial tone to your voice that weirdly reminded him of Sam. “Wanna tell me what happened out there?”  

“I—,” Bucky sheepishly scratched the back of his neck while his cheeks bloomed crimson red. “I must’ve just tripped over my own feet.” 

He tried to shrug off his nonchalance, but he knew by your raised eyebrow you didn’t believe him. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing a big, strong super soldier such as yourself has any trouble finding his footing.”

Before Bucky could muster up any other excuse but the truth, you ripped open the packet of a medical wipe and warned him, “I’m sorry. This is gonna sting.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with bravado. 

Bucky wasn’t prepared for the twinkle in your eye as you mumbled under your breath, “I’m sure it isn’t, Sargeant.” 

The breath got knocked out of his lungs. Oh did that do things to him. 

Suddenly, vivid images of you spread out on his bed wearing nothing but his old army hat while you screamed out his rank ran wild in his mind. 

Luckily, you were too preoccupied with cleaning the dried blood of his wound to notice him discreetly palming the bulge in his athletic shorts, trying to hide the effect you had on him. 

“Are you certain there is absolutely no other reason as to why I’m playing nurse right now, then?” Your feline grin was sexy and scary. “No possible distractions that led you off path?” 

There was no way you could read minds, right? Bucky doubled down on his denial, shaking his head from side to side and letting the length of his hair hide the truth in his eyes. 

“I’ll take your word for it then.” You finished up and reached for the healing gel. “I know the serum enhances your ability to repair the cuts, but I’d still like to use this.” Looking into his eyes, you asked, “Only as long as you’re okay with that, of course.” 

Time stopped and the two of you were caught in the other’s gaze. It was such a small gesture, one you probably didn’t even realise meant the world to him. But you asked him for permission on something that would affect his autonomy and if Bucky didn’t already have a hundred ways he was falling for you, that would have been the cherry on top. 

“Yeah,” he breathed airily. “Yeah, I’m good with it, doll.” 

Unseen to him before, you ducked your head and sweeped your hair behind your ear and if Bucky didn’t know any better, he was sure you were shy. 

He couldn’t help the large grin he sported. He was always so enamored with you, quick to falter in your presence and become unsure of himself. Right now though, a small bout of bravery returned. “Ready when you are,” he cheekily murmured. 

You hastily rushed to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you squeezed the tube of gel, allowing a small drop of the cool liquid on the tip of your finger and stepped between his legs to gently dab it onto his cuts. 

“Okay, you’re all fixed up now.” With a last swipe of his forehead, you smiled. “Don’t worry, Buck. You still look handsome.” 

He tugged his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “You think I’m handsome?”

You giggled. “I would be blind if I didn’t.” 

Bucky blinked at you slowly, still processing your words and trying to calm the excited bubble rising in his throat. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t act all coy, Bucky. You must have heard the whispers of the recruits. They stare at you all the time, whispering and giggling to each other.” 

With the most confidence he had ever mustered up, he responded, “Truthfully, I’m too busy staring at someone else to notice, doll.” 

The shock of his sudden boldness was glaringly obvious on your face — it was you this time who held your mouth open, lost for words. 

Bucky’s body screamed at him to tell you that he was in fact head over heels for you. That had he known falling over in front of the full compound would lead him within a hair’s breadth away from you, he’d do it all over again. 

But you seemed to recover after a couple of seconds, clearing your throat and making yourself busy to avoid his eyes. “So, I’ve got another question.” 

“Oh?” Bucky cocked his head. 

“Yeah.” You smiled while placing everything back into the first aid box as you found it. “I’ve been hearing a few rumours around the compound recently.” 

Bucky’s stomach dropped with dread. 

“You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?” 

“I—” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Oh,” you hummed. “So it’s not true then? You don’t have a crush on me?” 

Fuck.

Panicking, Bucky scoffed, though it came off sounding too pathetic, too breezy. “Me? Have a crush on you? That’s—Ha! Nope. No way. Not at all.” 

He watched as you nodded to yourself. Internally, he was begging for the floor to swallow him while he cringed at his own stupidity. 

“Well,” you shrugged. “That’s a shame, I guess.”  

Bucky’s head shot up, eyes wide and shock written over his features. “E-Excuse me?” 

“Oh, it's nothing really.” There was a sparkle in your eye that screamed trouble. “You said you didn’t have a crush on me, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Within seconds, Bucky jumped off the bed and leapt towards you, not even noticing how he had grabbed your hands. “Doll, please. You can’t leave a guy hanging like that.” 

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dramatically exhaled and decided to put him out of his misery. “Leave you hanging? Damn, Buck. It’s not as if I’ve been waiting patiently for you to ask me out for months or anything like that.” 

The air became humid and stuffy and suddenly the clothes attached to Bucky’s body felt too tight and restricting. “You—What now?” 

You rolled your lips inwards, trying to smother your laughter. “Bucky, honey,” you gently murmured. “I’ve heard what the others have been gossiping about. I’ve definitely heard Sam telling the team about your crush on me.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That fuckin’ punk.” 

You squeezed his hands reassuringly and offered him a warm smile when he looked at you. “I’ve just been waiting to hear it from the horse's mouth himself.” 

Bucky’s eyes darted between yours, trying to find any hint of decievement. “You’re serious.”

“Mhm,” you whispered. “Deadly.” 

It took him a couple of seconds to let the new information sink in. Clearing his throat, Bucky untightened his fierce grip on your hands and hesitantly slid them down to latch onto your waist. “So,” he mumbled. “Say if I asked you out to dinner tonight… You wouldn’t tell me I’m a fool and break my heart into a million pieces?” 

Butterflies erupted in Bucky’s stomach at the sensation of your hands sliding over his chest to rest against his neck. “No, Bucky,” you chuckled. “I would tell you that I’m looking forward to our first date, tonight. Nowhere fancy, just casual. Six o’clock sharp.” 

Bucky smiled, all beaming and ecstatic. “I wouldn’t dream of being late.” 

“Good.” You leaned up onto your tip toes and ghosted your lips over his ear. “See you very soon then, Sargeant.” 

Tingles shot down Bucky’s spine and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fought tooth and nail to crush the moan that rose up his throat and in his internal struggle, he missed how you’d sneakily slipped out of his hold and started to saunter towards the door. 

He almost begged you to come back; the thought of having to wait for you until the evening was unbearable. But those pesky butterflies that invaded his stomach came back strong and fierce as his gaze became glued to the sway of your hips and the sweet perfume that lingered in your exit. 

“Oh,” you stopped suddenly at the doorway and looked over your shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t go tripping over again, you hear me?” You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Can’t have you falling for me.”

Your damn smirk was intoxicating and Bucky thought himself the luckiest fella alive to be the one taking you out. He licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have a little trouble with that request, Ma’am.” 

The clench of your thighs was unmissable. The way your eyes dilated called to him. Bucky had more game than he realised and he kept that new information tucked safely into the corner of his mind for a later date. 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Your actions told Bucky everything he needed to know and so he wiggled his fingers with a huge grin locked onto his face and watched you longingly as you left his sight. 

The minute he couldn’t hear your footsteps any longer, Bucky pumped his fist up into the air and began dancing on the spot. 

In his own bubble of happiness, he didn’t hear the footsteps of a new person entering the hallway. Only when an amused clearing of the throat echoed from the doorway did Bucky abruptly stop his dancing and slowly swivel to the intruder. 

Sam stood there, all cocky and mirthful with a shit eating grin on his face. “About time you bagged the girl, man. Dont’cha think?” 

Instantly, Bucky growled and grabbed the closest apparatus. With a pair of medical scissors, he charged towards Sam, who was quick to wipe the smirk off his face and skid out of the room with a scream. 

[miraclewoozi]

no i just. i just need a few weeks to recover from this.

Like A Melody | ljh x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~3.9k | Pairing: ljh x f!reader | genre: smut

Jihoon has fucked you in his studio before, but never like this.

Warnings: dom!jihoon, studio sex, biting, hair pulling, grinding, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, oral f. rec., fingering,, recorded sex (just voices), male masturbation, praise kink, piv sex, creampie

Reader Notes: chubby, has breasts and a vagina, subby

Jihoon needs to take a break. 

He desperately needs to take a break, and he knows this, so why can’t he do it?

He’s been working on music for hours; his fingers are starting to cramp from plucking guitar strings and pressing down piano keys, his throat is sore from trying lyric after lyric, and his hair is a mess from his fingers running through it every other minute. His eyes are exhausted, the blue light lenses in his glasses only doing so much. Even his back hurts, which rarely happens now that he lifts so heavy. 

But he just can’t make himself quit, which is why he breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the knock. It’s soft, just like you, and he calls out a quiet, “Come in,” feeling the smile stretch his lips as soon as your sweet face peeks through the slowly opening door. 

“Are you busy?” You ask apprehensively, your eyes darting between his face and his computer. 

He can’t take a break for himself but he can for you, so he says, “Not at all, baby,” and pulls his glasses off, minimizing his music production software. Pushing away from his desk, he turns his chair to face you and holds his hand out, waiting for you to come closer and take it. He just holds your hand for a minute, staring up at you with tired eyes and letting them blink closed when you lean down and press your lips to his. 

Kissing you is as easy as loving you. It’s one of the few times in his life where he can shut his brain off and just feel, because every movement comes naturally to him. Dancing and singing do too, of course, but he has to count beats and remember words and keep every next move in mind. 

With you, Jihoon can just do what feels right. Like taking hold of your knee with his free hand and pulling until you give in and straddle him in his chair. He loves how plush and perfect you feel against him, all of his sharp edges rounded out by your curves, and he loves even more having your weight on him. 

He can take it, he can take you, and he likes to remind you at every opportunity. 

Sliding lower in the chair, he pulls your hips into his to let you feel his hardening dick, his hand flexing in yours when you grind down. He can feel how hot you are through your little pajama shorts, and if he knows you at all, you’re wet already. He works his fingers free of yours to slide them between your legs, pulling your shorts and panties to the side so he can feel you through his thin athletic pants. 

Your arousal soaks the fabric as soon as he thrusts up into you, making him let out a small laugh against your lips. You pout in response and mutter, “Shut up,” still working your hips against his. 

“Didn’t say anything, baby,” he teases, smirking up at you and squeezing your lush hips with both hands. You sink yours into his hair and pull, and suddenly, nothing is funny. His hips buck against yours as his cock twitches, precum leaking from the head adding to the wet patch on his lap. 

Your hips roll into his and he starts to throb, his dick pulsing in time with his heart. He can’t let you keep going or you’ll make him cum in his pants, or maybe… he could? 

Should he? 

It makes you feel good to make him feel good, and you always have a little pep in your step after he lets you make him cum first. He’s also desperate to get his mouth on you, and you’ll be more inclined to let him take care of you if he’s already taken care of. 

With his mind made up, he pulls you down onto his cock and grinds into you, exhaling a moan against your mouth when you tug on his hair again. You love it this length, you’ve told him, and he’s going to keep it like this for as long as he possibly can. Partially for you, mostly because he fucking adores having you brush it and play with it and braid it. 

He gets to be so close to you, and your fingers in his hair feel heavenly, even (especially) when you get a little rough. 

His scalp stings with the next pull and it sends a shiver down his spine, ending in a sharp buck of his hips. He stretches his thumbs out to pull your pussy apart so he can grind into your clit, hoping to take you over the edge with him. 

He’s getting close already, and you’re so wet, he can feel every inch of your cunt like there’s nothing separating him from you. Soon enough, there will be nothing, and he’ll be able to lick and suck and kiss you as much as he wants. 

You bite his lip and drag your nails over his scalp, and that’s it for him. 

His brain goes offline and his hips stutter against yours, a low groan leaving his open mouth as his dick twitches and jerks, streaks of cum splattering the inside of his pants. Your hips don’t stop moving until he stops them himself, his harsh grip dimpling your flesh. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon sighs, blinking his eyes open to find you beaming at him. 

He can only smile wryly at you in response, shaking his head and letting go of your hips to grab you by the waist. 

“Up you go,” he pushes, hefting you up to sit on his keyboard, discordant notes filling the studio until he leans forward and presses mute. 

“Are you su-”

“I’ve literally dreamed about this,” he tells you, for the first time. 

“You have?” You almost sound like you don’t believe him, and Jihoon simply can’t have that.

“Yes. I’ve dreamed about spreading you out on my desk just like this,” he shoulders his way between your legs. “And kissing up these thighs,” he presses his mouth to your soft skin, digging his teeth in only once, though he wants to leave you covered in bite marks. 

“And feeling them squeeze my head when I finally get you on my tongue,” he leans in and licks from your cunt to your clit, fighting a smile when your thighs snap closed just like he knew they would. 

He wants to talk to you more but he can’t pull himself away from your pussy, can’t make his mouth form words when he’s so busy using it on you. And honestly, his priority is keeping it on you, for as long as he possibly can. 

Between work and sleep, he doesn’t get to taste you nearly as often as he wants to, and now that he actually is between work and sleep, he plans on making the most of it. By shoving his tongue inside you over and over, by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking until you cry, by groaning and humming into you both so you can feel the vibrations and to voice his obsession with your pussy. 

And Jihoon is obsessed with your pussy, make no mistake. If he didn’t love his job so much, he’d quit and spend all his time worshiping you, taking care of you, loving you. He honestly thinks he’d make a killer house husband, and someday, when he retires, he plans on becoming one. 

He can imagine it now, cleaning and working out and sleeping until you come home, then feeding you and fucking you till the sun sets, reading to you and massaging away any soreness before wrapping you up in his arms and falling to sleep together. He can still make music while you’re gone, but he won’t be jetting off or practicing for hours on end anymore. 

He’s not ready for that now, but for a distant dream, it’s pretty enticing. 

Even more enticing is the paradise between your thighs; the taste of you, the scent of you, the feel of you clouding his mind. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t matter, not when you’re moving with his tongue like this, grinding your hips onto his face as he sucks and sucks and sucks at your swollen little clit. 

He wishes he could record the sounds coming out of your mouth, wishes he could play them back to you, watch you squirm and feel you flush at the sheer debauchery of them. It occurs to him that he could, but he’d have to pull away from you enough to ask and he’s unable to do so at the moment. 

You’re just too hot and wet and perfect for him to stop for even a second, so he’ll save that idea for another time and focus on making you cum for him now. He can tell you’re getting close, by the way your thighs shudder against his ears, by the keen you let out when he sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks, by the hand you sink into his hair to hold him to you, as if he’d ever want to leave. 

All it takes is a groan and a shake of his head and you’re cumming, your arousal leaking all over his chin and dripping down his throat to soak into the neckline of his t-shirt. He’ll take it off as soon as he gains the will to detach himself from you. 

It doesn’t come to him until his eyes travel up your body and catch on the way your tits heave in your sleep tank. He wants to see them, feel them, taste them, bury his face in them. 

Finally, he stands and rips off his shirt, leaning over you and waiting for you to raise your arms before tugging your top off and throwing it to the side. He takes a second to appreciate your bare breasts, the shape and weight of them intoxicating, and then shoves his face between them, licking over to one nipple and opening his mouth around it with a groan. 

He fucking loves your tits, and he shows you just how much with his lips and his teeth and his tongue, one thigh between yours to hold them open for his searching fingers. They find your clit with practiced ease and start to rub staccato circles, chasing you when your hips buck in sensitivity. 

He covers your other breast with his free hand, squeezing and brushing his thumb over your pebbled nipple as he sucks at its twin. You must have already showered, your skin tasting like your honey and cocoa butter lotion, and he can’t get enough, his head filling with clouds and images of you dripping wet and running your hands all over your body. 

He’s gotten you messy again, but he’s sure you knew what you were doing when you knocked on his studio door. This is almost always how you end up when you come to check on him, his hunger for you insatiable, incurable. 

How could he ever get enough of you when you’re this luscious, this sweet, this perfect? His mouth strays from your breast to your stomach, his lips tracing your rolls and stretch marks and cute little belly button before he sinks back down into his chair. He pushes your legs apart with a firm hand and replaces his fingers with his tongue, gliding it over you and sliding his fingers down to your entrance. 

He fills you with them slowly even as your cunt flutters and squeezes, wanting them deeper already. He’ll give you what you want, he always does, but first he’ll tease you a little bit. Not to be mean, or to punish you for something, but because he fucking loves to hear you beg. 

It always takes you a little push to lose your shyness, to find your voice, and this time, his push comes in the form of three fingers stretching your entrance open, sinking in only to the first knuckle. Your hips roll into his hand and his free one flies up to hold them still, his arm banding over your lap to hold you down so he can fill you at his pace. 

He goes much slower than he knows you would prefer, and he presses his smile into your clit when you finally break down. 

“Jihoon, please, I’ve been so good for you,” you whine, and he feels the heat spread from head to toe as he realizes it’s one of those nights. The kind where you need him to take control, to be rough with you, to reward you when you’ve earned it. 

And you have earned it, so he lets his fingers fill you, pushing them in all the way and murmuring into your clit, “You have been good, baby. I’ll give you what you need, promise.”

You just whimper, your head tilting back on your neck when he scissors his fingers apart and your walls clinging to them as he pulls them out to the tip. “Eyes on me, baby.”

He waits for you to return your gaze to his before pushing his fingers back inside of you and beginning to fuck you with them, his lips pursing around your clit and sucking with every thrust. Your pussy is so fucking hot and wet around his fingers, it makes him moan into you, just the thought of feeling you wrapped around his cock enough to reawaken it. 

It twitches in his damp boxers when a curl of his fingers beckons forth a rush of wetness and a sharp keen, one that echoes in his mind like a looped track.  

“Baby, can I record you?” 

He asks before he can stop himself, but now that it’s out in the air, he won’t take it back. He rests his cheek against your thigh as he waits, his heart pounding and his dick throbbing. 

“Um, sure?” You don’t sound certain, and Jihoon doesn’t want you to regret anything. He can always delete them, but he doesn’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with. 

“You don’t have to say yes, Y/n. I just think it would be… really fucking hot. Having your voice on file, being able to listen to you whenever I want, using your sounds in songs that will never be heard by anyone but us.”

You squirm under his forearm and clench around his fingers, and he believes you when you say, “Do it, Jihoon. Record me.”

His lips stretch in a broad, genuine smile and he reaches for the computer mouse, opening his recording software and clicking the red button. 

He watches little waves form on the baseline, curls his fingers, grinds them into the rough patch inside of you, and arches an eyebrow. You gasp weakly, seemingly shy now that your noises are being picked up by something other than his ears. 

Jihoon can be patient though, knows that soon enough, he’ll make you forget all about it. 

You’re still being good, holding eye contact and keeping your thighs spread for him, so he rewards you with his mouth around your clit, a heavy suck startling a moan from your parted lips. He fights a smile, his lips pursing and pulling at the swollen bundle of nerves, and starts to hum, knowing you love the vibrations. 

He can’t see the software from here but the wave must spike because you let out a sharp cry, your nails scratching at the edge of his desk until he takes your hands and puts them on his head. Your fingers delve into his hair and you pull his face into your pussy, and he knows he’s got you. 

He didn’t really consider the mic picking up his own noises but he’s sure it is, his grunts and groans audible even with your thighs pressed to his ears. He can’t stop though, can’t hold them in when you taste so fucking good, when your cunt is searing hot and soaking wet under his mouth, when your nails are scratching at his scalp and sending zaps of electricity down his spine. 

They all end in his cock, and he feels it jerk against the waistband of his boxers. He’s tired of them, removes his arm from your hips to shove them and his pants down, groaning loudly when his cock pops out into the open air. It’s sticky with cum and hard enough to hurt, and he can’t resist taking hold of it with his free hand, squeezing hard at the base to ease some of the ache. 

His fingers thrust into you as he strokes his dick, the slick sounds loud in his studio, and you crane your neck, your eyes searching until they find his hand at work. 

“Fuck, Jihoon, I want you inside of me,” you whine breathlessly, trying to pull him off your cunt by the hair. That just makes him moan into you, makes his cock jump in his grasp, makes him fuck his fingers into you harder. 

“Cum for me first,” he demands, determined to get at least two orgasms on this file for mixing purposes. It seems he’s still a producer even when he’s trying to just be a boyfriend. 

You pout but listen well, your cries reaching a fever pitch as your pussy flutters around his fingers, arousal spilling out of you and dripping between the keys of his keyboard. He may have to buy a new one, but that’s a problem for future Jihoon, and a problem he would be lucky to have. 

“Perfect, baby, that was perfect,” he murmurs in a low tone, wanting your voice to be the focal point. 

“Will you fuck me now?” You pant, reaching down to smooth your fingers over the head of his cock, making him shiver and swallow a groan. 

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you now,” he whispers, standing from the chair and pulling away from you to tug you off his desk. Your knees shake when you get your feet under you and he smirks, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your lips before taking you by the hips and turning you around. 

He squeezes your shoulder and starts pushing you down, letting you bend over the rest of the way by yourself. You fold your arms under your head, resting your cheek on them so you can watch as he guides his dick to your cunt and sinks inside. 

You’re stretched out enough to take him easily, your walls forming to his cock and gripping it tightly. You’re such a perfect fucking fit for him, it’s like you were made for one another, like your bodies were designed to match. It blows his mind every single time he has the privilege of being inside of you. 

He’s reluctant to leave you and you’re reluctant to let him, but pulling out means he can thrust back in. He keeps one hand on your shoulder and drops the other to your hip, clutching at it like a lifeline as he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

His hips smack into your plush ass rhythmically, the sound causing sharp spikes on the waveform graph and acting as the perfect percussion to the moans and whimpers escaping you. The mic is right by your mouth and he knows they’re being picked up beautifully, butterflies gathering in his stomach just at the thought of getting to hear them through his headphones. 

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, angling his hips up to hit your g-spot and smirking when you yelp at the sensation. Your back arches, your stomach pressing into his keyboard and your hips pressing into his, and he just holds you tighter, fucks into you harder. 

Your pussy undulates around him as his hand slides from your shoulder to join the other at your hip, both of them gripping your ass and spreading you apart so he can watch his cock enter you again and again. It’s a sight he’ll never get tired of, a feeling he’ll never get used to, a gift he’ll never truly deserve. 

It’s what will send him over the edge, just as long as he makes you fall first. He already came before you once and he doesn’t plan on doing so again for a long time, but he needs to get you there soon or he won’t have a choice. 

One of his hands slips around your waist to dive between your legs, his fingers finding your sensitive clit and starting to strum it as he fills you over and over. You whimper and tremble against him, your cunt fluttering wildly around his aching cock and your hand flying down to grasp his wrist like you think he’ll pull away. 

He doesn’t intend to, honestly wouldn’t mind being attached to you like this for the rest of his life, knows already that he wants to spend it with you. 

His fingers get rougher on your clit and his hips move on autopilot as his brain empties, his balls aching to do the same. “Please cum, fuck. Baby, please fucking cum.”

Jihoon should have known he’d be the one begging you at the end of the night. 

Thankfully, you like to indulge him, your pussy locking him in place as you cum with a loud cry, followed by gasping sobs of his name when he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s right there, he’s right fucking-

“Jihoon, cum inside me. Fill me up, I want it,” you whimper, pressing your ass into his hips and squeezing your inner muscles around his throbbing cock, and that’s the end for him. 

He drops down to cover your body with his as he breaks apart, his own moans and whimpers registering on the graph alongside yours and his cum flooding into you in pulses. His hand leaves your clit so he can wrap his arm around your waist in a hug, his cheek pressed to your back and his other hand finding yours. 

He tangles your fingers together and rises up, pulling you with him and sitting heavily in his chair. He’s still hard enough his cock doesn’t slip out, and he leans you to the side so he can cup your cheek and turn your face into his, pressing his lips to yours in an openmouthed kiss. 

“Love you, baby,” he whispers into your mouth, waiting for you to say it back before kissing his way to your neck and biting down gently, just enough to leave an indent of his teeth behind. 

“Will you come to bed with me?” You whisper in a small voice, and he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and responding, “Of course, baby.” 

He reaches a hand out and stops the recording, saving the file to his private hard drive, ideas filling his head already. They can wait until the morning though, you asked him to go to bed with you and go to bed he will. 

Jihoon thinks this might be the most productive break he’s ever had. 

AN: this one's for all the jihoon stans who have been thirsting with me lately 💖

My Masterlist

My Chubby!Reader Masterlist

[talyayet474]

Dakota Fanning