#i love playing with my friends hair and i love it when they play with mine

[oreo-creampies]

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Satoru finds out that you like reading gangbang fanfiction. Naturally, he has to do something with this newfound information. With the help of Toji and Suguru.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 21 minutes/6.1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gangbang, double penetration (anal and cunt along with two dicks in one cunt right after), oral, anal with prep, light pain kink, biting, bondage, bdsm, collar and leash. usage of daddy/mama once, heavy praise/light degradation, mindbreak, thumb in ass, some satosugu, light painal for Satoru since suguru sticks a thin vibrating dildo up his ass, suguru edges satoru, teasing, friends w benfits/some type of sugarbaby set up, choking, knife play/no blood, pussy slapping, manhandling, squirting, overstimulation, satoru and toji put their balls on your face, ball sucking, face fucking, hair pulling, manhandling, light size kink, licking suguru's cock with satoru, making out with satoru, biting, bullet vibrator, strap on that gives toji a second cock, plugging cum in your ass, they are all sweet mean, satoru spits cum into your mouth

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 6.1k

oreo: i hope the wait was worth it, thank you for all the love and patience ya'll have given me

Satoru leans next to you, reading off your computer. “Gangbang, knife play, bondage, double penetration ya like it kinky.” You’re too late to close your computer. “He looks like me.”

Your body is burning, jumping out of your chair and whirling around to face Satoru. “Ok and? So what? You already know you’re attractive!” Crossing your arms, glaring into pretty blue eyes. “Is it dumb I would find someone who looks like you hot?!” Satoru’s playful grin spreads into an infuriating cocky smirk.

Satoru slides his fingers through his hair. His black sleeve straining with his bicep flexes. Long snow-white locks fall into his intense, beautiful blue eyes. The silence thickens the air.

Tilting his head to the side, his jawline, thick adam’s apple, his pale neck would be perfect to kiss. “So defensive.” Smirking, “I like the way you’re looking at me.” Stepping forward, closing the small gap forcing you to look up.

Your cunt is getting wet from the height difference. “I’m not looking at you any type of way.” Jabbing his chest with your finger. His pec is hard, “Fuck me!” He leans in, pressing your palm flat on his chest.

Your voice softens, “You barged into my room n’ spied on my computer!” Squeezing his hard pec, swiping your thumb over his nipple. “You’ve gotten so much bigger.” Sliding your hand down feeling his sculpted abs through his shirt.

You accuse, “You’ve been working out with Toji and Suguru too much.” You turn around facing your desk, flipping him off. “Unless you plan to be anything other than a menace I wanna cum whilst reading my fic. Help me cum or leave!” You softly gasp in surprise when Satoru presses you against your desk with his hard, large body.

He a fistful of your hair yanking it back, spitting on your face. Smearing it with his large hand, crooning, “But I thought you liked your men big n’ able to throw you around like a doll? Isn’t that what you said?” Smearing his spit with his hand, stuffing two fingers in your mouth.

Satoru smacks your ass, squeezing a handful of your stinging cheek. “I could help you cum.” Sticking his fingers, his cock lightly twitching when you gag. “Want me to read your fanfiction out loud for you?” Dragging his fingers out of your mouth.

He lifts your laptop lid up not caring he is smearing spit on the screen. Reading out loud. “He drags the knife along her inner thigh. She squirms the closer he gets to her soaking.” Sliding your shorts down, roughly smacking your ass

Crying, “What if they hear us?” Satoru pushes your underwear aside, gliding a thick finger between your soft lips. Getting his thick finger wet before nudging it in. His long thick finger filling up your cunt shouldn't feel this good.

Satoru outs them, “Tojj and Suguru would jerk off off to the sounds of me clapping your cheeks. I could cuck them both.” Your cunt squeezes Satoru’s thick finger fucking your cunt sloppy. “Or you can moan their names, they could join us. You can be the slut who lets us run a train on her, or fuck you all at once.”

Satoru slips his finger out roughly slapping your cunt You whine sweet stinging pain cuts through the stinging pleasure. Slowly fucking his thick fingers into you at a steady pace.

Insisting to you, “You can write about it after, call it one girl, three cocks n’ three holes." Three more slips, each harder than the last. "Come on say their names, I wanna see you struggle to take Suguru’s fat cock.”

You whine, “Toooojiii, Suug!!!! Satoru is being mean to meeeee! Cooommmee helpppp!”

Suguru calls from the hallway, “Aw Toru why bother her, she said she wanted to read.” Coming into your bedroom, taking notice of your shorts in the ground. His eyes flicking from those to your sweet soft ass and cunt stuffed with Satoru’s soft fingers.

Satoru’s large body hiding your’s. Till he steps aside letting Suguru watch how your soft wet cunt takes Satoru’s thick fingers. “What’s so mean about this?” Suguru glides his finger in with Satoru’s. “Your cunt is drooling n getting so tight sweetheart.” They pump their fingers in sync.

Suguru squeezes a handful of your ass, his hand larger than Satoru’s. “Fuuuck that feels so good! I love having my cunt played with. Don’t stop please.” You bend over holding onto your desk, cupping Satoru’s hard cock through his sweats.

You stroke Satoru through his sweats moaning, “Satoru you’re big, wanna you to fuck me hard, make me squirt with your long hard cock.” You clench Satoru and Suguru’s thick fingers with your sloppy wet cunt. Whining when Suguru roughly smacks your ass.

Satoru sneers, “Not even able to pay attention long enough to answer.” He pulls out of your grasp, keeping his thick fingers in your soft wet cunt.

Satoru pushing his sweats down his cock pops out. “What’s wrong with how mean I’m being? Answer me n’ you can touch my cock.” He spits in his hand, smearing it over his cock hand. Groaning as he strokes himself.

You glance over your shoulder admiring the beautiful sight of Satoru’s arm flexing as his large hand strokes his long cock. Thick white pre cum dripping from his pale pink head.

Suguru pushes his gym shorts down, kicking them aside. Grabbing your wrist when you try to touch him. You whine, “Nnnnothing’s wrong!” Their fingers graze your sweet spot your body tingles with overwhelming pleasure.

Your thighs are trembling, toes curling into the carpet, slick dripping down your thigh. You confess, “I want you to y'all to help Satoru bully my cunt, make me the house whore, I wanna be the one y'all stuff your cocks in when it gets hard. Please lemme be your pretty cumdump.”

Toji barges into your bedroom, demanding, “Why do I care if he's being mean?!” He slips his large headphones off his head and sets them on your dresser. “Princess,” his scarred smirk looks predatory, “I can show you mean, they are spoiling your sweet little cunt right now. I’d fuck ya like I hate ya, make sure you can’t walk.” Toji wastes no time ripping your underwear off to get a better view of your stuffed cunt. Slowly stuffing two fingers in.

Your jaw drops with a loud moan. You’re naked with your three incredibly hot roommates fucking their thick fingers into you. It's a situation you'd masturbate to.

Satoru strops stroking himself, standing next to your face. Letting out a softly sigh in relief when wrap your lips around him. Groaning dropping his head forward, watching his cock vanish within your mouth.

Suguru tells Toji, “Satoru found out our sweetheart is a smutty fanfic reading pervert, gangbang. N’ now she wants to be the house whore, sounds kinky, I’m down.” He moves next to your head.

Suguru glides his fingers out smearing your slick on his cock. Grabbing your laptop, sliding it over for him to scroll to the warnings reading. “Bondage, squirting, anal, double penetration-one hole/triple penetration, With some face fucking, face slapping, and light knife play? I’ll be right back.” He rushes out of the room.

Satoru glides his fingers out, sticking both in his mouth to lick clean. He roughly grabs your hair fucking your soft wet mouth. With his balls slapping your chin.

Toji pumps his fingers faster. Quickly finding that sweet spot that made your soft cunt quiver. "Can I fuck your ass?" Satoru slips his cock out with a soft pop letting you breathe.

Pleading "Fuck whichever hole you want." Toji spits on your asshole and stuffs his spit in with his thumb. Slowly pumping his thumb letting your soft hole adjust. "Nn it feels weird but good!”

You cup and massage Satoru's balls, kissing and licking his warm cockhead. His cock standing up eager for attention making it easy to suck and kiss without using your hands.

You look up into his beautiful ocean-blue eyes and plea, “Even if I’m asleep I want you to spread my legs and do what you want to my cunt.” Taking his long, pretty cock in your mouth bobbing your head.

Satoru groans, his cheeks flushing a dark pink, “Fuuuuuccck!” He grabs your head holding you still. “You’re a dirty pervert who wants to wake up to Suguru eating you out as Toji and I jerk off onto your face.” He tightens his grip on your hair, slowly fucking your face, testing and getting off on your gag reflex.

Satoru groans, “We could cover you in cum, make your sloppy wet cunt sore.” Fucking your mouth faster, some spit drips down your chin. Smearing onto his balls with each soft smack.

Toji squeezes your cheek whilst tugging on your asshole stretching you out. Steadily stroking your sweet spot getting you so close to cumming. Your thighs tremble, toes curling into the carpet.

Toji groans, "She's dripping." Fingering your tight, sloppy wet cunt faster. Refusing to let up on your sensitive sweet spot. "Are you really cumming for us that quickly?" His thumb glides in your asshole easier.

Satoru glides his cock out of your mouth. "Whatcha thinkin' sweetheart?" Toji's thick fingers in your cunt, and thumb in your ass make it difficult to think. "She's already getting dumber, can't answer a simple question." Satoru softly slaps your cheeks with his hard cock then stuffs your face into his balls.

Without another thought you open your mouth to softly suck Satoru's balls. Suguru comes back in, dumping a bag full of toys onto your bed. "Here are some butt-plugs, dildos. cock rings, ropes, o ring, and for you Toji," He grabs a strap with a thick dildo dangling from it. "You can fuck both holes; the dildo will need to be above your cock."

Toji glides his fingers out of your ass. Whilst Suguru pulls the toy out of his grasp. "Actually, here is disinfectant. We don't want to get our cock sleeve sick and be out of commission." Toji grabs the packet with his cleaner hand. Forcing the lid open and tugging out a wipe.

Suguru drops the strap on. onto the bed leaving Toji to help himself to it when ready. He grabs the knife off the bed, flicks out the blade, and returns to your computer.

Satoru pulls his balls out of your face, tugging you up by your hair. Then Suguru's words hit and you retort, "Commission implies I'm paid and if that's the case I'mma need more than just dick for payment. I'm too broke." Suguru turns around pressing the knife to your throat whilst sweetly grinning down at you.

Suguru insists, "If you wanna be our sugar baby get on your knees and beg for it." Satoru let go of your hair. stepping aside to give you room to kneel.

You don't have the chance to speak before Satoru adds, "If you beg well enough, I could cover your half of the rent." He grabs the collar with its leash off the bed, "I already get your broke-ass food."" He carefully wraps the collar around your neck, fastening the clasp, then tugging on the leash.

Toji decides, "Satoru is rich enough to be your sugar daddy, my cock and cuddles will be payment enough." He grabs a bottle of lube and a small buttplug off the bed.

Suguru tilts your head up with the knife. "Bullshit you'll get her lingerie for her to wear." He glances at Toji, "What about that maid outfit she suggested after bitching about cleaning up after Satoru and You?" He looks down at you, dark thick hair framing his handsome face.

You decide, "They've been cleaner, so I could wear it as a reward. Clean your balls of every last drop of cum. Of course, you get my undivided attention first for always helping keep this place clean." Suguru is beautiful with his broad shoulders, thick pecs, and sculpted abs. His black happy trail leads to short well-trimmed hair and his thick hanging cock.

Suguru glides the sharp knife's tip up your chin to your bottom lip. "I want to see you in that see-through underwear with the maid outfit." He glides the knife along your lip, dragging it up your cheek.

Satoru glances at Suguru, "How do you know she has something like that?"

You take Suguru's cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head. His warm pre-cum is sweet and thick coating your tongue. There is so much pre-cum you can't help but suck harder, licking his small dripping slit.

Suguru groans, "I wash everyone's clothes that means her's too." Gliding the knife to the side of your head. You are slowly gliding Suguru deeper into your mouth with a loud moan.

Toji states, "Pineapple is the safe word to start aftercare." Lubbing up the butt-plug

Suguru sets the knife on the desk behind him. He holds your head still with a tight grasp on your hair. He stuffs his cock deep into your throat holding your head down and suffocating you.

Suguru suggests "Lift her ass up and stick it in her then." Satoru hands Toji the leash, watching Toji wrap his arm around your waist helping you partly stand up into a bent-over position.

Satoru suggests, "Why not go ahead n' tie our pretty slut up in a mating press. We can tug her around on the bed by the leash." He stands next to you spreading your cheeks apart for Toji.

Toji smirks, "We could do that." Tugging on the leash and Suguru's firm grasp on your hair keeps you from budging. The thick leather collar presses into your cock stuffed throat. Suguru groans, shallowly pumping his hips fucking your mouth slowly.

Toji lines the tip of the plug up with your asshole gliding it in. Smearing lube with each swirl and pump. Your cunt clenches around nothing from the pleasure of your ass stretching for the toy.

Suguru bottoms out giving you seconds to breathe. Before stuffing his cock back in to quickly fuck throat. He grabs the knife off the desk lightly dragging it across your back. You can't help but squirm, the air in your lungs escaping in a cry Suguru muffles with his cock.

Toji pushes the butt plug in, "Let's tie our new slut up." Satoru lets go of your cheeks. Whilst Toji moves to the other side of your bed dragging you with him.

.Suguru turns towards your laptop picking it up, setting the knife down. He scrolls through the fic skimming it.

Toji straddles your head his balls resting on your forehead and eyes. His thick cock nudging your lips smearing bitter pre-cum. You open your mouth groaning when he rocks his hips forwards.

He brings the laptop over, sitting on the bed next to you. "Do you want Satoru and I to act out the making out part while we are inside you?" He glances from the laptop down at you. Where Satoru is binding your legs together with the dark red rope.

Satoru taunts, "You don't have to use the fanfic as a reason to kiss me again." Making kissy faces at Suguru who rolls his eyes and grabs his friend by the neck pulling him closer.

Suguru nudges Satoru's mouth open with his thumb and spits. Satoru swallows, grabbing Suguru's cock and swirling his fist as he strokes him. Suguru groans, "I know." He leans in biting down on Satoru's bottom lip. The needy cry he makes your cunt clench.

Suguru pulls away, "Finish tying her up and let Toji have fun with her mouth." He stuffs his thumb into Satoru's mouth for him to suck on. "Then I want you to shove your pretty face into her beautiful cunt so you can put that annoying ass mouth to good use." He lets Satoru go.

He glides his thumb over Suguru's fat cockhead smearing pre-cum. He sticks his thumb in his mouth groaning from tasting Suguru's pre- cum.

Suguru sets the laptop down on top of a pillow, scrolling through the fic. "Cum spitting? Satoru when we cum in her you can eat it out and share it with her."

Satoru is quick tying at you in a mating press. "Are you gonna let me eat our creampie out of your cunt?." He slaps your cunt four times, pinching your clit. Your trembling, eyes stinging with tears.

Satoru grabs a vibrator turns it on and holds it to your clit. Slowly swirling it, stoking your soft sensitive nub. He stuffs his face into your cunt Suguru orders him "Keep your ass in the air."

He shifts keeping his face in your sloppy wet cunt putting his ass in the air. Satoru is giving Suguru a perfect view of his cock and balls. Suguru grabs a thin dildo with lube which he pours onto the tip before setting the lube aside.

Suguru lines the thin dildo up with Satoru's ass. Smacking his cheek. your sloppy wet cunt muffling Satoru's whine. Suguru nudges the head in, spitting in his hand and grabbing Satoru's cock.

Satoru lifts his head, "You arennnnnnn!" He moans when Suguru stuffs the thin dildo deep into Satoru's ass. Turning it on, leaving it on the highest setting, keeping it still, it's head pulsing against Satoru's g spot. "Fuck!" Suguru stuffs Satoru's head into your cunt.

Toji glides his cock out before he cums in your mouth. Pinching your nipple to hear your breathy whines get louder. He tugs on the leash, moving his hand to let you get a view of Satoru being a moaning mess between your legs with Suguru stuffing his ass.

Suguru looks at you and smirks, "Why not show him what it's like living with him? A pain in the fucking ass." Satoru bites your thigh in between the rope. Stopping when you cry. He licks the bite mark then stuffs his face into your soaking-wet cunt.

Satoru glides his tongue through your lips. Stroking your clit with the toy faster. Your cunt clenching his tongue. Satoru grabs the plug quickly fucking your asshole with it.

Toji orders, "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out." Slapping his cock on your tongue. Stuffing his thick fat into your mouth with a groan. Your eyes sting with tears as you choke on him.

He pinches, twists, and tugs on your soft nipple. "Fuck her soft wet mouth feels so good on my cock." You pull Satoru's hair, struggling to reflexively arch your back, feebly twisting your hips away from Satoru. He rubs your clit faster with the toy, sending you over the edge.

Your gushing into Satoru's mouth, your body trembles with your toes curling. Toji's thick cock muffles your moans. Toji groans, "Look at that our slut can squirt." Satoru sets the toy aside still vibrating.

Suguru grabs Satoru's hair making you let Satoru's hair go. You watch as Suguru lifts Satoru up out of your cunt by his hair. Fucking the dildo faster into Satoru's ass. Suguru lets his hair go spitting into his palm and grabbing Satoru's cock swirling his fist.

Suguru croons, "Are you getting close? You wanna cum on her pretty cunt then stuff it in with your sensitive cock?" Satoru whines unable to answer until Suguru is pulling the toy out of him.

Satoru cries, "Why did you stop?" His cock throbbing from the lack of stimulation. Missing the feeling of being full of getting his g-spot fucked.

Suguru quickly retorts, "Why won't you stop waking me up when you crawl into my bed?"

You grab Toji's thick muscular thigh digging your nails in. He glides his cock out of your mouth, slipping off the bed. He yanks you upright by the leash, causing the leather collar to dig into your sore throat.

You grab the leather prying it away from your throat. Toji leans down, "What's your color beautiful?" Twisting you around and laying you on your back with your butt dangling off the edge of the bed.

You plea, "Green please I wanna cock in my cunt or ass!" Toji cups your cheek hanging off the edge of the bed. Softly messaging your cheek then roughly slapping your ass. The force of the thrust makes you lightly bounce.

He unwinds the leash, asking you, "What about both?" He hands the leash to Suguru who shoves a pout Satoru aside. He dramatically face plants into the pillow that Toji rips out from underneath him.

He sits up and points at both Suguru and Toji, "Yall are both assholes, why she wants your dick in her is beyond me. Fucking hell, not letting me cum, shoving me to the side, and stealing a pillow out from under me."

You chime in with, "Don't cry on my other pillows either." His eyes widen, his fingers lower and his bottom lip trembles.

Satoru's voice cracks "Et tu?"

"Call me brutus."

Toji grumbles, "Suguru stuff her mouth these two are killing it mentioning some random ass dude's name and speaking gibberish." Suguru tugs you closer to the middle of the bed. Where Toji grabs your ass and lifts you up stuffing the pillow underneath you.

Satoru crawls over and lays down next to you. You grab his cock, still wet with Suguru's spit. He softly kisses your cheek ignoring Suguru's cock dangling close by. He turns your head by your chin to steal a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

"Annoying ass thief I'm glad I didn't let you cum yet." Swirling your hand along Satoru's cock. His moans are beautiful, breathy, and needy. You could touch yourself listening to him moan.

Toji dips his head into your cunt licking up the sweet mess with loud groans. His nose occasionally nudges your soft, sensitive clit. He grabs the plug and tugs it out, setting it on your bed without giving a fuck. Softly biting your cunt's lips when you start to complain.

You break the kiss leaving Satoru's mouth at Suguru's mercy. Lifting your head looking down at Toji asking, "Did you bite me?" He slaps your cunt as Suguru nudges Satoru's lips with his cock.

You look to see Suguru grabbing Satoru's neck causing the chain leash to dig in. His thick cock glides past Satoru's glossy lips. His balls hit the top of Satoru's head. He’s so beautiful getting face fucked.

Toji grabs the male strap-on, steps into it, and sets the dildo above his own cock. He tightens the straps making sure it's comfortable and secure. He climbs onto the bed, holding both and lining himself up.

He nudges your ass with his warm, thick cock head. Swiping the cool dildo between your cunt's soft wet lips. Smearing your slick down it and gliding his cock head in. You reach down flattening your hand on Toji's hard abs.

There is a sweet pleasurable pain from Toji splitting your ass open. "Nnfuck your cock is going in! Put the other one! Please! Please! Pleeease!" Moaning when he gives you just the tip of your dildo. Stretching your wet cunt out alongside your lubed-up.

Suguru slips his cock out of Satoru's mouth. Satoru grabs your chin and roughly kisses you. And all you can taste is Suguru when Satoru's tongue rubs your's. You moan into his mouth when Toji's hips hit yours, roughly and quickly filling you up with both cocks.

He strokes your clit with his thumb, slowly rocking his hips, keeping a slow steady pace. He groans, "Fuck I don't think I can last long the dildo in her pretty cunt is pushing against my cock. Her ass is so soft n' tight, she's gonna make me bust too quickly."

Suguru grabs the bottle of lube off your side table handing it to Toji. He pulls out till the tips of the dildo and his cock are tugging both sloppy wet holes. He carefully pours a line of lube on his cock, then gives the bottle back.

Toji grabs a part of the rope binging your thigh by your side. "Stupid little slut keeping my cock hard walking around the house looking so damn fuckable." He uses that to pull you towards him as he slams into you. The dildo brushes your sweet spot with the perfect pressure to make you lose your mind.

Suguru sets the bottle aside, spitting in his hand and stroking his cock. Admiring Satoru and You making on the bed, your soft hand stroking Satoru's pretty cock. Smearing his thick white pre-cum down his cock with swipes of your thumb.

Your soft moans sound so beautiful alongside Satoru's needy whines. Suguru groans "I can't wait to feel the both of you."

Toji roughly fucks both cocks into you without mercy. Stroking your soft clit with his rough thumb, the bed rocking, your body would be harshly bouncing away if not for his grasp on the rope. The course rope rubs and presses more into your thigh.

Toji decides, "This house slut thing works whenever my cock gets hard I'll come to you." Fucking you harder, adding more pressure to your sensitive clit. Each quick stroke of your sweet spot has your mind going blank.

You can't focus enough to stroke Satoru's cock. He grabs your hand and sloppily fucks your hips. Suguru sticks his cock in between Satoru and You. You lick and kiss one side with Satoru sucking and licking the other. Your tongue brushing Satoru's.

You clench Toji with your ass and his massive beautiful muscular body trembles. He hunches over biting your chest, flicking your nipple with his tongue. His pace becoming sloppy. He lets you go and grunts, "Nn fuuuuck I don't wanna cum in ya yet mama wanna keep feeling you."

"Please cum, wanna feel your thick warm cum in my ass." Toji picks his pace keep, franticly fucking his cock into your soft warm ass. The sound of skin smacking skin joins the grunts, groans, and creaking of your bed. "Please daddy!" Toji busts instantly his thick warm cum shooting in your ass with a force you can feel.

Suguru pulls away and Satoru lets your hand go. He gets on his knees and grabs Suguru's hand pulling him in for a rough kiss. Leaving you all to Toji. He leans over, keeping enough space between to play with your soft sensitive clit.

His thick hard pecs into your face. You wrap your arms around him clawing his backside up with one hand. Burying your face into his chest, tugging on his hair. You can't help but bite down hard. The way Toji whines is getting you off.

He stops with his cock and dildo deep in you, keeping his cum from spilling out. "I couldn't stop cumming." He sits up out of your grasp, looking for another buttplug. "There's so much that I fucked deep into your ass." Snagging the biggest one, its thickest point is still thinner than Toji's cock.

Slowly pulling his cock and dildo out, slipping the plug in. He croons, "Can't let it drip out while Satoru and Suguru are fucking both their cocks into your messy slutty cunt." He kisses your forehead. "Ya did good for me, took my cock so well. How does your ass feel?"

You smile up at him, "Sore but good." He softly kisses you, keeping it short and quick. Pulling away Toji is quick to get out of the strap-on.

"I'll leave you at these two's mercy n' I'll be back for aftercare." He smirks, "Good luck you already look like a tired whore." He slaps your cunt then leaves you at Satoru and Suguru's mercy.

You look to see Suguru and Satoru sloppy kissing each other. Suguru has his large hand around both cocks, holding them together. Satoru slowly grinds his hips, rubbing their cocks together.

You suggest, "Why not rub your dicks together in me?"

Suguru breaks away from Satoru and drops the leash. "And here Toji was wishing her luck." He grabs his knife off the desk. "After all that she is already ready for more." Suguru lifts you up by your throat. His fingers are beneath the leather collar.

You feel so perfectly helpless and vulnerable tied up, held in the air by your throat. With two big guys about to sandwich in between their hard chest. You're about to feel their cocks rubbing together inside you after watching them make out.

Suguru and Satoru line their cocks up. Suguru lightly nudges past your lips. Satoru is rubbing down your slit, groaning when he feels Suguru's cock head brush his. Then gliding his wet head to your clit, stroking you.

You can't shift your hips to sink yourself down on Suguru's cock. Satoru remembers, "Weren't you about to show us how a whore begs to be a sugar baby?" You're clenching nothing, aching to feel them both.

Suguru grabs your hip, and Satoru squeezes your other hip. He presses the knife to your neck whilst glides his head in. Teasing you with his tip before pulling out. He swirls his cockhead in small circles o your clit.

Satoru taunts, "Before we double stuff your messy little cunt tell us what you are?" He loves the sight of your soft pretty nub touching his pale pink cock head.

You confess, "I'm a needy cock loving pervert who spends too much time reading smut and playing with her cunt. Please fuck me into a mindless mess then pamper me afterwards." Satoru lines himself up, with their strength they can stuff their cocks in together.

You loudly cry from the overwhelming sweet pain. Digging your nails into Satoru's hard pec whilst reaching behind you. Grabbing a handful of Suguru's hair. You are desperate to ground yourself, but they don't give you a chance.

Their pace is uneven causing their cocks to stroke each other's. Satoru grabs your hair. "Pretty little slut you gonna eat the creampie Suguru and I make if I spit it into your mouth?"

You can't think of a response. It's impossible to think with their cocks stirring your guts up and the cool metal of the knife against your neck.

Suguru croons, "We just stuck our cocks in, are you really this easy to break?" His pace is harder but slower than Satoru's. His cockhead reaches just beneath Suguru's but he's thicker pressing Satoru against your g-spot with intense pressure.

Satoru points out with a cocky smirk, "Our slut only had enough energy to beg for more cock." He slips his finger underneath the collar tugging on it. "We should get her one just for her. What do you want your collar to say? Should it say brat, house slut, or cock sleeve?" You're so full, their cocks reaching so deep.

Suguru looks down into your eyes and groans, "She's such a pretty whore taking both our cocks in her soft wet cunt." Satoru's pace falters, his cock lightly twitching, veins pulsing. "You close already? With her tight cunt pressing our cocks together I feel the pulsing of your cock."

Satoru whines "Can't help it I was so close earlier n' I really wanna cum." He leans down softly kissing you, cupping your cheek. Gently cradling your face like he isn't bullying your sore, sensitive soaking-wet cunt with his cock.

Suguru slips his hand in between Satoru and You, flicking your nipple with the knife. There is an exciting fear that he could cut you at any moment. Part of you hope he does when he glides the knife lightly across your thigh in between the ropes.

Satoru whines, his pace falters, slowly down and getting harder. Satoru moans as thick warm cum trickles from his cock in short quick bursts. He grabs your bound thigh and digs his nails into your skin between the tight rope.

Suguru groans picking his pace up chasing his high. Fucking Satoru's thick cum deeper into you getting you off. Satoru breaks the sloppy, rough kiss and whines, "Fuck her soft cunt, your soft yet hard cock both is too much. I wanna do this again later, please I wanna cock warm with both of our cocks in her."

Your soft cunt squeezing their cocks is becoming too much for Satoru. He pulls out, getting on his elbow and licking where Suguru and You connect. Your trembling, eyes rolling back, tears trickling down your face.

"Look me in the eyes and lemme see you crying." Suguru wraps his large hand around your neck tilting your head up. He stares into your eyes, fighting to keep his pace steady. Satoru groans, "Cum in her, lemme taste you both." Suguru falters, stopping with his cock balls deep in your sloppy cunt.

His thick warm cum steadily pours into you from his fat head. "You're both beautiful filthy cum loving perverts." Satoru gets on his knees grabbing you by the rope. He bounces you on Suguru's thick cock making him tremble.

Slowly Satoru lifts you off Suguru's cock. Softly laying out down, slowly pulling out the buttplug, and carefully undoing the rope, checking over for any burns.

Suguru accuses, "That was a bitch move." Carefully unfastening your collar and lightly massaging your sore neck. Their actions are a wonderful gentle contrast to how they were manhandled and fucked you a moment prior.

Satoru retorts, "So was edging me." He flips Suguru off who rolls his eyes.

Satoru softly peppers kisses along the sore indention of the rope's pattern in your thighs. "There is no rope burn, but I don't want you to try and walk anywhere. Get one of us to carry you if need be." He dips his tongue into your sloppy cunt getting a thick mix of cum in his mouth.

Kissing you softly spitting the cum into your mouth. Then pulling away, softly encouraging you, "Swallow, good, that's it. Such a good slut."

Toji comes back into the room, "I got a bubble bath going in Suguru's bathroom along with some candles. I'm not getting in but one of you can." He checks his phone. "In an hour the food I put on Satoru's card will be here."

Satoru stretches your legs out, softly massaging your thighs. "I feel too good right now to care how you got that information." He slips off the bed, leans over to pick you up, cradling you to his chest. "I'll take a bath while Suguru can do the laundry he prides himself on doing."

Suguru suggests, "We should flip a coin to see who gets to bathe with her and who washes the bedding."

[keeryhours]

do you wanna come over? - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You’re one of the most beautiful and popular girls in Hawkins, and you’ve set your sights on Eddie Munson. Little do you know, he’s a virgin - and also pretty in love with you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), protected p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating sort of, restraints, virgin!eddie, perv!eddie, drug use, getting walked in on

Word Count: 9.7k

A/N:

This is set up for a part 2, so let me know if you’d like to see that soon! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner and for reading, and thank you @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines , @losingmygrasponreality, @lesservillain!

Eddie Munson was your weed dealer and nothing more.

Well, occasionally shrooms. Or Special K. Basically, he was your dealer with no strings attached.

You weren’t even sure if you liked the guy. You didn’t know him. He was very…vocal from what you saw of him in the cafeteria, but he always came along with his small group of nerdy friends. You never saw him with a girl. Not once.

There was no way Eddie Munson was a virgin, right? The dude had done his senior year 3 times now, he was like 20 years old. You figured the girls at school probably just weren’t his taste anymore.

Why Eddie was on your mind so much lately was honestly beyond you. You had never thought of him much before, unless you needed some drugs for the weekend. But now it was like he was always on your mind. You even brought it up to your best friend, Chrissy, after practice.

“There’s just no way he’s a virgin, right?” You asked her as you moved into a split, feeling the muscles in your thighs stretching.

Chrissy giggled as she did the same. “Why are you so interested in Eddie Munson’s sex life all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “It just…doesn’t make sense. Have you ever seen him with a girl?”

“Of course not,” Chrissy said. “But who knows what he gets up to outside of school.”

Her words stuck with you. Because you wanted to know what Eddie got up to outside of school.

You found yourself fantasizing about it, dreaming about it. When Eddie first started making his appearances in your dreams, it shocked you. You had never been attracted to him until that night. You dreamt of him shirtless, tattoos exposed on his lithe body. He rolled a joint with his dexterous fingers and lit it, taking a long drag before handing it to you.

“Your turn, princess,” he’d said in a lower, much more suave voice than you’d ever actually heard from him. You grabbed for the joint but he held it out of your reach, bringing it back to his own lips and breathing deeply before leaning in and breathing the smoke out into your mouth. You had moaned against his lips, feeling his smirk against your own mouth.

He looked like a sex god. Sometimes he would grab his guitar and play you a song. Sometimes he would undress you and eat your pussy all night, other times he would make you worship his cock until he was satisfied and cumming all over your face. You especially liked it when he held you down and fucked you like your body begged to be fucked.

Then you’d wake up in a cold sweat, clit throbbing between your legs in a way that had you desperate to go back to sleep and let him finish you off. You’d have to face him at school again, just the usual nerdy guy you remembered.

You figured you had to make a move.

You approached him during lunch, short little green and yellow cheer skirt swaying as you crossed the room towards him. You caught his attention about halfway across the room and he did a double take, wide eyes landing on you as his friends turned to see what had distracted him.

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted, a small smile on your lips.

“Uh, h-hey,” he said, smoothing a hand through his wild hair. It didn’t do much to tame the curls. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after school?” You asked, your voice obviously flirtatious. One of his friends - Gareth? - raised his eyebrows at him, looking between the two of you with a barely contained smirk.

“Oh! Yeah, for sure,” he said. “The usual? In the woods behind the school?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. “See you later…Eddie.”

You made a point to sway your hips as you walked away, and you could feel Eddie’s and his friends’ eyes on you. Your ass, specifically. You knew what you had been blessed with, and you weren’t afraid to use it.

That day after school, you snuck off and headed down the familiar path through the wooded area. The leaves crunched beneath your white sneakers as you walked, the October chill making you pull your sweater tighter around your body. No one was at the meetup spot when you arrived, so you sat on top of the table, legs crossed as you waited.

It wasn’t long before the crunching of leaves gave away another presence. Eddie approached the table, eyes locked on your form. God, those legs in that little skirt. He thought about what it might be like to spread them, to breathe in your scent and bury his face between your thighs. He had frequent fantasies of stealing a pair of your panties during practice and bringing them home, bringing them up to his face and breathing deeply, wrapping them around his cock as he fisted it, spilling his cum all over the pretty material. He had no idea what your panties actually looked like, but surely they were as perfect as you.

He carried his metal lunchbox, stocked with weed. His gait was slow as he got closer to you, taking his sweet time to drink in your appearance until he’d had his fill. When he reached the table, he sat the lunch pail down on the wood with a bang.

“What can I get you today, m’lady?” He asked, a playful smile on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “A half for 20, perhaps?”

“I’ll take a half,” you said. “And..do you have any more of that Special K?

Eddie slowly looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, back at the house. I’ll have to get it. I could bring it tomorrow.”

You shifted from your position, crossing the other leg, and Eddie just about combusted on the spot as he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties. Pink and lacy, exactly what he pictured you’d wear. It completely threw him off.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Your voice snapped Eddie back to reality. “Shit, sorry. What?”

“I said you could bring it tomorrow.” You smiled. “Or I could ride with you to get it then. I just can’t tonight because of practice…”

Eddie swallowed. You really wanted to ride with him back to his place? Alone? “Uh, okay, sure.”

You debated making your next move, wondering if it would be too far, but you went for it anyway. “So, Eddie…I was just wondering. Do you ever take any payment that’s not…money?”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Like what? Sometimes my car guy does work for me in exchange for weed, but…” The look on your face told him that’s not what you’d been talking about. “Oh, jesus, no. You don’t have to do that. If you need me to spot you, I can-“

“But what if I want to?”

Eddie just stared at you. “You want to…?”

“Oh my god, Eddie.” You spread your legs, reaching for his waist and pulling him into you. Your hand dragged across his cock over his jeans, feeling him already hard and even bigger than you’d imagined. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good?”

Eddie’s knees felt weak, his heart thundering in his chest as you pulled him close to you. This couldn’t be real, he had to be dreaming. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d had this exact dream before. His hands rested on your thighs to hold himself upright - god, your soft, bare thighs… He started to speak, stopping to clear his throat. “You really don’t have to do this-“

You squeezed his cock through the material, making him moan out loudly. “Does this show you how badly I want to do this?”

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I- yeah, I think I get the idea.” He looked around, like he was expecting someone to jump out from behind a tree and literally catch him with his pants down. “You’re- you’re fucking with me, right? This is all just a big joke?”

“Eddie, I would never do that,” you said earnestly. Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. “Have you really never done this before?”

“I-“ Eddie backed up, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I haven’t, okay? I’m not like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with-“

“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just…I haven’t.”

“Why not?” you asked again. “Are you into girls? Because it’s okay if you’re not-“

“Yes, I’m into girls!” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, like he was frustrated. “I haven’t…done things like that before.”

“You haven’t done things like this, or you haven’t done things at all?”

Eddie was quiet. Then, finally- “At all.”

You reached for him, your hand grazing his. He startled at the touch, the electricity that shot through his body at the smallest feeling. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked back at you, letting you pull him close again. “Why?”

“I’ve been…thinking about you,” you admitted.

“Thinking about me?”

“Stop being so coy,” you teased him. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

Eddie shook his head. “No one thinks that.”

“I do.” You said it easily, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Thinking about all the things I want to do to you…all the things I want you to do to me…”

“Yeah?” He said, his voice low and breathless. “Like what?”

“Just thinkin’ about you, and what those long fingers can do,” you said, fingers trailing along his own. “About your mouth, your tongue.” You ran your hands down his chest. “About how big your cock is, how you’d use it…”

Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe when you talked like that. “You…you think those things about me?”

“Of course I do.” You brought his fingers up to your lips, gently pressing them there as you smirked up at him. Your tongue darted out and licked his fingertips and he groaned just under his breath. “I think about you all the time.”

“Why have you never, uh,” he cleared his throat again. “Never said anything before?”

You shrugged, continuing to tease the older boy. “Guess I just got the nerve up.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re like the hottest girl in school. Why would you ever be afraid to ask someone out? Especially me?”

“You think I’m the hottest girl in school?” You smirked, placing his finger in your mouth and sucking on it. His knees buckled, his cock impossibly hard in his jeans at this point.

Your hands roamed down his chest until you reached his belt buckle. You looked up at him for permission, his heavy lidded gaze glued to yours. He nodded once, and you undid the belt, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down painstakingly slowly.

Eddie whimpered as you freed his cock, the massive, thick length catching you by surprise. Eddie reached for the table to hold himself up as you wrapped your fist around it, slowly stroking him.

“H-oh,” he breathed out, hips jerking forward into your touch. His tip leaked precum already, the head a deep red and cock achingly hard. He twitched in your hold, telling you he wanted, needed more.

“Why don’t you lean against the table?” You offered, sliding off and leaving the room for him to sit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he said, moving to take your spot. He leaned against the wood, his long legs stretching to the ground. You sunk to your knees in the dirt in front of him, stroking him as you stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. He groaned again, knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.

You wrapped your plush lips around his cock and began taking him deeper down your throat. He cried out at the feeling, one of his hands moving to hold onto the back of your head.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, head tilting back but not wanting to miss any part of what you were doing. “Fuck. Yeah, that’s…that feels nice…”

You swirled your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock, paying extra attention to the head when you’d come up. He was a moaning, writhing mess above you as he thrusted his hips into your mouth, and you were pretty sure they would hear him up at the school if he kept this up.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his chest heaving. “Shit, that’s so good.”

You brought a hand up to stroke the seam of his balls, and his stomach muscles clenched, his cock twitching in your mouth. You massaged them in your hand, and Eddie fell apart above you, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna- gonna c-um, shit shit shit-“

That was all the warning you got before Eddie was shooting ropes of his cum into your mouth, down your throat, as he moaned loudly. It surprised you a little and you gagged at first, but swallowed every drop he gave you. You pulled off of him with a pop and he watched the spit trail connecting your lips to his cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed when you stood, dirt tracks on your neat white cheerleading socks and your bare knees. He awkwardly tucked himself back away as you brushed the dirt off your skin. “Um…thank you?”

You giggled. “No problem…Did you like it?”

“Did I-“ he huffed a laugh. “I mean, you made my dreams come true, baby. That was pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

“Yeah? Your dreams came true?” You teased as you leaned forward, rubbing his thighs over his jeans. His eyes shamelessly lingered on your body.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed.

“I liked it, too,” you hummed. “Made me sooo wet.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It was hot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, wanna see?” Eddie just watched you so you stood, turning around and bending over while lifting your tiny skirt over your ass. The small wet spot on your panties was visible from behind you, confirmed by the low groan Eddie let out.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“I feel bad I didn’t get to make you feel good,” Eddie said when you stood and returned to the table, sliding onto it next to him.

“Next time,” you promised him.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows, like he expected this to be a one and done thing between you.

“Well, yeah,” you gently nudged his shoulder. “I don’t really just suck dick in the forest and move on with my life.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “That’s good for me then, I guess.” He snapped his fingers as a memory came back to him. “Oh! You’re coming to my place tomorrow? For the K?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Why, you got something planned?”

He smirked but just shrugged. “Nah. Nothing planned.”

“I’ll take the half, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached into his pail and pulled the baggie out. “I’d feel bad charging you for this now, but I also feel bad not charging you for it.”

You laughed - “I mean, I won’t complain if you don’t want to charge me this time.”

“Then it’s on the house,” he smiled at you. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you chuckled. “I wanted to. Believe me.” You stood from the table, shoving the baggie of weed into your bag. “I’ve got to get going…practice.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie seemed bummed to see you go, like he wanted to ask you to stay longer or tag along to watch you at practice. “You got extra, uh…socks?”

You looked down, sheepish grin on your face at the sight of the dirt. “Yeah. I do.” You turned as you began walking back to the school. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed!”

“Bye!” He called after you, feeling like a total idiot.

Back in the school, you shed your bag in your practice locker and changed into a clean pair of cheer socks. By the time you joined Chrissy in the gym, she was giving you a knowing smirk.

“And where were you?” She asked innocently. She definitely clocked the remaining dirt on your knees.

“Just…doing some shopping.”

“With Eddie?”

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god,” she giggled. “…Was he a virgin?”

You gave her a look. “Not for long.”

Chrissy practically squealed with laughter, falling over backwards. As the coach came over and started practice, you focused, getting your mind centered on practice and not a certain big-dicked virgin metalhead. But as you performed your tricks, tumbling down the mat and flying as your teammates tossed you into the air, your mind was locked on big brown eyes only.

The next day, you had plans to meet Eddie after practice and go to his place. You headed into the gym in your uniform with your bag over your shoulder, ready to focus on your stunts, but you nearly tripped over your own feet when you saw Eddie sitting in the bleachers.

No one watched cheerleading practice besides a couple of the girls’ boyfriends, so it was a shock to see him there. And you knew he was there for you. He gave you a small wave as your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help laughing.

You went on with practice, performing your back handsprings and tosses as a flyer. Eddie watched the entire time, his attention fully on you. His eyes followed you everywhere you went, amazed by the stunts you were able to pull off. Every now and then he caught the slightest glimpse of your panties beneath your skirt, and that was enough for him.

After practice, you lingered until all your teammates were gone. Eddie watched you curiously, wondering what you were up to. Finally when the last of your cheer teammates had left, you nodded towards the locker room, and Eddie’s eyes widened, but he jumped up to follow you anyway.

Eddie trailed after you into the locker room, watching the sway of your hips and ass as you walked. It was deserted, all of your fellow cheerleaders having already showered and left. You stripped out of your uniform right in front of Eddie, pulling your top off and leaving yourself bare chested. Eddie’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, your bare tits on full display for his eyes. You took off your skirt and panties next, throwing them on the bench.

“Let me go take a shower, then we can go.”

Eddie watched as you turned and left towards the shower. His gaze dropped to the pile of clothes on the bench - particularly the pink panties beneath your skirt. He thought about it - really thought about it, because he’s not that much of a creep - but he snatched them, stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

A few minutes later you came back wrapped in a towel with one wrapped around your hair as well. He watched you, amazed, as you grabbed some clean clothes from your locker. You dropped the towel right in front of him and his eyes took in every inch of your body as you pulled on your underwear then a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Ready to go?” You asked. Eddie had to shake himself out of his lustful stupor to answer your question.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You followed him out to the parking lot, duffel bag over your shoulder. He led you to his van, opening the passenger door with a bow. “Ladies first.”

You climbed in with a giggle, buckling your seatbelt as Eddie shut the door for you. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van. You watched out the window and listened to Eddie’s heavy music as he drove to his trailer in Forest Hills.

“Welcome to my castle,” he said as he opened the front door of the trailer for you. You gave him a smile as you walked in, seeing the living room decorated with baseball caps, the kitchen littered with trash and dirty dishes. “Sorry, the maid took the week off,” Eddie said as he quickly cleaned up as much as he could. You didn’t mind.

“You can come back, if you want,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the bedroom at the end of the hall. “It’s a mess, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you assured him.

You followed him into his room, taking a seat on his bed. He went searching through his stuff, finally surfacing with a baggie of powder clutched between his fingers. “Special K. Peaceful bliss, just moments away.”

You took it from him, passing him the money. You opened the baggie and collected some on your finger, bringing it to your nose to snort the powder. You held some out to Eddie, who snorted it off your finger as well.

A comfortable peace washed over your body quickly. You were feeling good as you laid back on the bed, the euphoria washing over you. Eddie laid on the bed next to you.

“This is some good shit,” you laughed. Eddie laughed, too, turning to you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” He said, voice lowering as he looked over your body in his bed. “You are so fucking hot.”

You giggled. “You’re hot, too.”

“That’s not true,” he said, suddenly shy. “No one thinks that.”

“I do,” you said, your hand resting on the side of his face. “I think you’re so hot. And kind, and handsome, and funny and interesting.”

Eddie leaned closer to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and he was so close now his nose was brushing yours.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he told you as his lips moved closer and closer to yours. “My little slut. You liked sucking my cock out in the woods behind the school, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against him, his lips now grazing yours, pressing together in a needy kiss. “Loved sucking your cock. So fucking big, so sexy.”

Eddie moaned as he kissed you, his hand roaming your body, up your shirt and over your breasts. “Can I taste you, princess?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the question, mind hazy from his kisses.

“Can I taste you?” He asked again, lips moving down to nip at your neck. “Wanna taste that pussy, princess. I know it’s so good, so fucking sweet and wet. Please let me have a taste.”

“Okay,” you agreed as his kisses trailed lower, his lips moving down over your breasts and stomach, to your thighs. He settled himself between your legs, kissing all over your thighs and over your core through your light purple panties. He could see the wet spot on them, it made his mouth water with his desire to taste you.

He slid your panties down your legs, your pussy finally revealed to him. It was everything he imagined, so fucking hot, and bare all for him. He dove in, tongue sliding through your folds to taste you. You moaned, hand gripping into his wild hair as he devoured you.

Eddie didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but he was eager and excited and that made it even better. He teased your clit with his tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking lightly. Then he moved lower, tongue teasing your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

You moaned, hips bucking up against Eddie’s mouth. “Feels so good,” you moaned, hands trailing over your nipples as Eddie ate your pussy like a man starved.

He started grinding his hips against the bed as he ate you, searching for friction against his hard cock. He rutted frantically against the bed, tongue buried in you as his cock throbbed in his pants, moaning into you as he neared release himself. All from the thought of what he was doing to you, the reality of having his face buried in your cunt, his rock hard dick rubbing against the comforter.

“Eddie, I’m g’na cum,” you moaned desperately as Eddie worked his tongue over your core even more, fingers pulling at his brown locks.

“Cum for me baby, please,” he begged, fully losing himself between your legs, tongue working against your pussy somehow expertly as your release neared.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Eddie! Oh god, Eddie!” You cried out as you came, hips bucking against his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. He kept thrusting against the bed, but hearing you moan his name as you pulled his hair and grinded against his mouth set him off and then he was moaning, cumming in his jeans as you came down beneath his tongue.

He let you ride out your orgasm and then he pulled back, cheeks bright red and a wet spot on his jeans from where he came.

“Did you…?” You asked, looking down at his lap.

“Uh…yeah,” he said shyly, knowing there was no getting out of this with a lie.

You giggled, but there was no judgement behind it. “That’s pretty hot, honestly,”

“It is?” He asked, still blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Couldn’t help yourself?” You trailed a finger down his shoulder, over his chest. He shuddered.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I just…can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

It was flattering. You loved that he was so weak for you. It made you feel powerful. “You’re so sexy, Eddie.”

He trembled beneath your touch.

That night, when Eddie was alone, he pulled your panties from his pocket. He wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed him take them, or if you just hadn’t cared. But he had them, and now he was bringing them up to his nose, breathing in your scent with a groan. He unbuttoned his pants and took his cock out, wrapping the panties around his shaft.

He thought of you. He thought about you wearing these panties during cheerleading practice, the way you’d do your jumps and spread your legs for anyone to see. The way you looked him in the eye just before you did your splits, like you wanted him watching specifically.

He began stroking his cock with the panties wrapped around his length, thinking of you. He thought about eating your pussy, the way you had come undone beneath his tongue. The way you had tasted.

He moaned your name, imagining you were in the room with him now. Imagining you were here riding his cock, tits bouncing as you bounced on him, taking every inch of his dick. Eddie stroked his cock faster, his release approaching faster and faster.

He came to the thought of his cock disappearing into your tight little pussy, the thought of finally fucking you. The way you’d be so desperate for it, legs spread wide as he sunk into your cunt, tits bouncing when he snapped his hips into you. It was enough to send ropes of cum shooting over his fist and all over the panties and his thighs and stomach.

Eddie was down bad for you.

It was a couple of days later when you approached Eddie at school again. His face lit up when he saw you, frantically making room at the lunch table and pushing Gareth out of the way.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked as Eddie shoved him to the side, but his eyes went wide in understanding when he saw you approaching.

“Hey, Eds,” you greeted him, hand sliding around his shoulders in a way that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at you adoringly, big brown eyes full of something like love.

“Hey,” he greeted you back. “What’s up?”

You leaned over so you were closer to him, leaning over the table with your cleavage in your uniform top right in front of his face. “Do you have any shrooms?”

“S-shrooms?” Eddie asked like he’d never heard the word, too distracted by what was in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I do. At the house.”

“Could I ride with you after school to get them…?”

Eddie swallowed, completely lost in a trance, forgetting about his friends at the table watching this whole interaction. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Cool,” you smiled. “I’ll see you after school then?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie’s gaze was locked on you as you walked away, that little cheer skirt so short he could just barely catch a glimpse of-

“Munson!”

Eddie snapped out of his you trance to rejoin reality and his friends trying to catch his attention. “What?”

“What the hell is that all about?” Gareth asked. “She’s been talking to you a lot lately.”

Eddie blushed, looking down at his tray of food. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Jeff said. “Cheerleaders don’t just talk to us.”

“She just wants to buy some stuff. That’s all.”

The guys exchanged a look. “Soooo,” Gareth drew out the word, “are you gonna tell us who gave you all those hickies?”

Eddie froze, suddenly self conscious. He didn’t even realize they’d been noticeable. He pulled his leather jacket higher around his neck.

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend we didn’t already see them,” Grant laughed. “Just tell us!”

Eddie looked around. “Okay, yes, it was her. But shut up! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The guys all buzzed with excitement, talking over each other as they leaned in closer to Eddie. “How the hell did that happen? What did you guys do? Tell us everything.”

Eddie shook his head. “Uh uh. No way. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

“When I kissed Carla, you made me tell you everything!” Gareth protested. “Don’t be lame.”

“You kissed Carla Peters for 30 seconds in 7th grade,” Eddie reminded him. “I think we’re dealing with a difference in maturity level here.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I would tell you if I lost my virginity. It’s a momentous occasion.”

“I didn’t lose my virginity,” Eddie whispered. “…Yet.”

After school, Eddie watched your cheer practice again. The other girls took notice this time, giving you strange looks. You heard them whispering - “What is that Freak doing here? What a creep.” You felt kind of bad for subjecting him to the gossip of your teammates, but they all shut up when you left with your arm linked in his.

He led you to his van, opening the door for you once again. This time on the ride to his house you chatted, giggling at the jokes Eddie would make. He tried to give you a crash course on D&D, but it was all going over your head.

At the house he held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, taking a seat on his couch. “Um…I know I have those shrooms somewhere…give me a sec.”

You looked all around the living room as Eddie took off to his bedroom, searching through drawers and cabinets. You examined the wall of hats, all the different places they came from and things they represented. By the time Eddie came back with the baggie in his hand, you had just looked at the last one.

“Got ‘em,” Eddie said, handing you the bag. You slipped it into your purse. “Uh…do you want to stay and hang out?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, watching as he sat down on the couch. You slowly walked over next to him, his eyes on the way your legs moved beneath your skirt. He sure was weak for the uniform, you noticed.

You stood in front of him, looking down at his nervous form. He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as you stood over him.

You trailed your hands down his arms, reaching his hands and placing them on your hips. He gulped, like he was in shock. But his grip tightened on your hips, feeling the material of your cheer skirt under his hands, wanting to push it up and-

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Eddie accidentally let out a low groan, betraying just how far gone he was for you already. You could feel how hard he was, the bulge through his jeans pressing up against your core. You wanted him, so wet your panties were soaked. You needed him.

“Eddie,” you whined, moving your hips against him. He groaned again, grip tightening even more.

“You look so fucking hot,” Eddie said through a clenched jaw, like he was trying to hold himself together. “You’re…a fucking dream, Jesus Christ-“

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, biting gently and making Eddie groan again. His hands were holding onto you as tight as possible, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You can touch me,” you said, wanting him to. You wanted to feel his hands all over, wanted to feel him. Every part of him.

He let go of his death grip on your hips and slowly roamed down your thighs as you continued kissing his neck, feeling the bare skin of your legs. He remembered what it was like to taste you, and the thought only made him harder in his jeans. He wanted to do it again and again.

Next his hands moved up, slowly feeling your sides until he reached your tits. They filled his hands perfectly, making him moan as he massaged them. He was desperate to get his mouth on them, to wrap his lips around your nipples, to suck on them.

He reached down and pulled your cheer top up until he was dropping it on his living room floor. He fumbled with your bra clasp for a while before he was able to remove that, too. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your naked tits, mouth watering. He dove in, wrapping his lips around your nipple and making you gasp.

“Eddie,” you moaned, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was learning fast.

“So fucking sexy,” he moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple, the sensation sending chills through your body. “Can’t believe you’re on my lap right now. Pretty little princess has a thing for the Freak, huh?”

You giggled lightly, eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of Eddie’s mouth. “When the Freak is this hot…”

Eddie chuckled. His hands gripped your ass as he switched to the other breast. He guided your hips to grind against him, as if it was possible for him to get any harder than he already was. He’d never been this hard in his life.

You tugged on his shirt and he got the hint, leaning forward to pull it off. Your hands roamed his tattooed chest, feeling the muscles of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach.

“Do you want to take me to your room?” you asked him, your voice a mere whisper against his lips.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Eddie said, then you were squealing as he stood, lifting you up. He stumbled a little and you laughed, but he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, leaving the discarded clothes on the living room floor.

He carefully dropped you down onto his messy bed, landing with a giggle. He kicked his shoes off and quickly undid his belt. You watched as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. You could really see the size of his erection with nothing but his boxers on, and it was just as impressive as you remembered.

Next he slid your shoes off, leaving the white cheer socks in place. He slowly climbed up your body, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs. With you now fully naked, he looked at you wide eyed. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to fuck you.”

“Can’t believe you’re about to fuck me, or can’t believe you’re about to lose your virginity?” you teased with a laugh.

“Both,” Eddie smiled. He placed kisses all over your skin, his tongue darting out to taste every now and then. You were like a drug - he was utterly addicted to you already.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him as he reached your lips again, kissing along your jaw and cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

“Uh, I do, actually,” he said sheepishly. “Gareth bought them for me as a joke. Now I guess joke’s on him, because they’re getting used well before he gets to touch a girl.”

You laughed at that - “Well, works out for us, I guess.”

Eddie reached over into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling the unopened box out. He felt a sense of pride as he opened it, pulling out one of the foil packets. This was really happening. He had a pretty girl naked in his bed. Finally.

You pushed his boxers down as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the rubber onto his cock just like he’d learned in health class. He was grateful Gareth got the biggest size as part of the joke - but it fit perfectly. Ha.

Eddie leaned over you with one arm by your head and the other between your bodies, pumping his cock a couple times as he lined it up at your entrance. He took a deep breath he hoped you didn’t notice, then he started pushing inside. You gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping his bedsheets.

“Jesus, Ed,” you breathed, his cock nearly taking your breath away already.

“What?” he asked, stopping his movements. “Are you okay? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “You’re just fucking huge. But keep going, please.”

His ego properly stroked, he began sinking further into you. He was barely holding it together, a whimper involuntarily escaping from his lips. You were so unbelievably tight, hot, and wet…it felt better than his fist had on his best nights, and watching your face contorting in pleasure every inch he sunk into you was unreal. He had to shut his eyes to keep from cumming right that second.

He bottomed out, and you had never felt so full in your life. None of the guys you’d been with had been this big. Eddie reached down and spread your legs wide, holding them open as he pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you. He fucked into you quickly, filling you completely with every thrust.

“God, you- you’re so flexible, fuck-“

His pleasure-drunk rambling would have made you laugh if he wasn’t currently splitting you wide open with his cock, and looking unbelievably sexy while doing it. He threw his head back, long hair flying backwards. You raked your nails down his chest, making him moan loudly.

“Feels so good, Eddie, fuck, even better than my dreams-“

“You dream about me?” Eddie huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck, princess, I dream about you too.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to speak just before a particularly hard thrust hit your bundle of nerves perfectly, making your back arch off his bed and the words on your tongue turn into a loud, high moan.

Fuck, the noises you were making were better than any porn he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how he was still going, he’d felt right on the edge since he got inside of you.

“Your pussy is fucking incredible, holy shit-“

Eddie’s hips stuttered into you, his rhythm faltering. He adjusted you into a mating press, fucking you wildly as the most pathetic yet sexy moans left his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” you moaned, gripping onto his arms tightly. They were firmer and bigger than you expected, and you could feel his muscles contracting as he put all his effort into fucking you.

“I’m getting real close, baby,” he said, his voice strained. His arms were starting to tremble, his thrusts more frantic and needy. “But I need you to come first.”

You reached down between your sweaty bodies and rubbed circles on your clit, your body writhing beneath him. Eddie let out another pathetic moan at the sight, his rhythm faltering once again, his thrusts getting harder yet slower, hips snapping into you aggressively.

“Ohmygod, Eddie, Eddie, fuck! Yes yes yes, keep fucking me just like that-“

Your orgasm washed over you in a wave, hips grinding up against Eddie’s thrusts as you continued rubbing your clit. Your other hand pinched at your nipples, and the show sent Eddie reeling.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m…I-I love you! Shit-” Eddie cried out as he came, his eyes squeezing shut as his cum shot into you, filling you up with his spend. He held onto you tightly as he came, it felt endless, like he could cum forever. His body was trembling, hands shaking from their grip on your legs.

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his words, but Eddie didn’t process it until he came down from his high, breathing heavily on top of you.

“Oh, shit-“ Eddie said, sitting up and looking at you with a horrified expression. “I did not mean to say that, I don’t-“

You just stared at him, and then you burst out laughing. Eddie blushed a deep red as you laughed, but eventually he joined in. The two of you giggled together, you leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eds. I’m not upset.” You held his hand, intertwining your fingers. “It’s a little early for that, but I like the sentiment.”

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out.”

“The sex was that good?” you teased.

“Oh yeah.”

The next day at school, you stuck close by Eddie. You had decided to try dating, and you were unbelievably happy. You walked hand in hand, drawing the attention of absolutely every Hawkins High student. Chrissy’s jaw dropped when she saw the two of you, but then she gave you a bright smile - you knew she’d be in your corner no matter what.

You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never felt so obsessed with a guy before, but you were head over heels for Eddie, and you didn’t care who knew or what anyone thought.

At lunch, you got your food and headed for the Hellfire table. You took a seat right next to Eddie, sharing the end of the table. Eddie beamed, putting his arm around you and pulling you into a kiss that was far too heated for the school cafeteria. His tongue slipped into your mouth, pressing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

The guys stared. Gareth looked at the others - “What the fuck?” he mouthed. Jeff just looked at him wide eyed, while Grant looked impressed. Mike and Dustin looked at each other, shocked.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized you had an audience. “Hi! I’m so sorry.”

Eddie didn’t look sorry at all. He looked happier than the guys had ever seen him. “Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said with pride, introducing you by name.

The guys thought this had to be a joke. There’s no way you and Eddie had really hooked up, and there was no way you were together now. It made no sense. Yet here you were, all over each other like no one was watching.

You and Eddie shared your lunches with each other as you ate, the sickeningly sweet display holding the attention of every guy at the table.

No one said anything for a while, and you and Eddie were so caught up in your own little world, neither of you noticed. Finally, you got up to go get some napkins, and Gareth took his chance. He cleared his throat, and Eddie looked over at his best friend with a confused expression.

“Care to explain?” Gareth asked, the rest of the table watching on with interest.

“Explain what…?” Eddie asked, genuinely lost.

Gareth did a dramatic gesture towards you. “That.”

“What’s there to explain?” Eddie played with a piece of his food before popping it into his mouth. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Since when?” Gareth asked. “What the fuck has been going on?”

Eddie looked at your figure from across the cafeteria before turning back to his friends. “Since last night. She came over and we…had a nice night, and I asked her to be my girlfriend.”

“Did you lose your virginity?” Grant asked, the only one of the group who seemed excited for his friend.

Eddie glanced at Mike and Dustin, who were lost in their own conversation now. He nodded, and Grant held out a hand for a high five, which Eddie sheepishly accepted.

“Did she buy from you?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah…why?”

Gareth looked around again before he spoke. “I just…you don’t think she’s only messing around with you for the drugs, right? Cheerleaders don’t talk to us, they definitely don’t sleep with us.”

His words set a fire in Eddie, making him absolutely furious. “What did you just say about her?”

Gareth had never seen Eddie so angry, like flames flickering behind his deep brown eyes. ”Nothing, man. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You came back to the table then, all smiles and totally oblivious to the tension at the table. “I got you some too, baby,” you said softly to Eddie, handing him a couple of napkins. Eddie gave Gareth another harsh look, but moved on.

When you’d finished eating, Eddie kissed you again, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Wanna get out of here, baby?”

You giggled. “Where to?”

“My van?” he proposed, voice low and seductive yet still fully audible to the rest of the table. Gareth pretended to gag.

“Sounds good,” you agreed with a mischievous smile, standing along with Eddie. He grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed from the building, leaving Eddie’s friends dumbfounded. Chrissy gave you a smile as you left, but her boyfriend, Jason, scowled and whispered something to his friends.

In the parking lot, Eddie opened his van, letting you climb inside before he joined you. In the back you immediately met in a heated kiss, pulling at each other’s clothes and touching each other everywhere.

You pushed Eddie’s jacket off before tugging at his shirt, smirking when he quickly pulled it over his head. He pulled your panties off, leaving your cheer skirt on. He quickly undid his belt and jeans and pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

“Turn over for me, baby,” he said, pumping his cock in his fist. “Want that cute little ass in the air, ready for me.”

You did as Eddie said, moving onto your hands and knees before lowering your upper half to the floor of the van. Eddie groaned at the sight, hands rubbing over the skin of your ass beneath your skirt. He hiked the skirt up around your hips, leaving you exposed to him.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked him.

Eddie froze. “Shit. No, I didn’t bring one.”

You thought for a moment. “It’s okay. I want you anyway.”

Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened. “Are you sure, princess?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice assured. “I want it, Eds. I don’t care if you don’t have one, I need you in me.”

Eddie groaned, pressing his hard cock against you. He thrusted his hips lightly, grinding himself against your ass. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, princess. You’re fucking unreal.”

You felt him press against your pussy, sliding between your folds and collecting your wetness on his cock. The feeling was like heaven for him, the memories of being inside you came rushing back, making his dick throb. He had to have you again. And this time he’d get to feel you raw? The thought alone had his knees weak.

He pushed the head of his cock inside you, the stretch already too good. You both moaned as he filled you, inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out he wasted no time thrusting into you again and again, a quick pace rocking the van right there in the school parking lot for anyone who came outside to see.

The old van squeaked as it rocked back and forth with the power of Eddie’s frantic thrusting, the windows fogged up from the heat you two created together. He used his grip on your hips to pull your body back into him every time he thrusted into you, making them all the more intense.

He reached forward and pulled on your ponytail, jerking your head back and making you moan. “Eddie!”

“Oh fuck, you like that, baby? You want me to be a little rough?”

“Yes, fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thoroughly pounded you from the back. When he suddenly pulled out you whimpered at the loss, but he quickly flipped you over.

Eddie sat up on his knees, throwing his shirt off before he pulled the handcuffs off his belt. Your eyes widened as he looped them through the bottom of the driver’s seat and attached them to your wrists, pinning them above your head.

The way your body stretched with your arms up like that was a sight to behold. It put your tits on full display, his hands grabbing for them the second he started fucking into you again. The angle he had your hips with him up on his knees was intoxicating, his cock hitting your bundle of nerves with every thrust.

“Please, Eddie, harder,” you begged, your voice a whiney moan. Eddie obliged immediately, the slapping noise of your skin meeting filling the space.

“Fuck, look so pretty like this, princess,” he huffed, out of breath from his vigorous movements and the heat you were creating in the stuffy van. “Never thought you’d be tied up in the back of the freak’s van, taking his cock and begging for more, huh?”

No, you didn’t. You were just as surprised as anyone at your current situation.

“You’re so good, too,” Eddie moaned. “Your pussy is so perfect. Fits my cock just right. I’m so deep in you, baby, fuck!”

Eddie was struggling to hold it together, the feeling of you wrapped around him without the barrier of the condom was almost too much to bear. He spread your legs wide and leaned over you, burying his face in your neck.

He whimpered into your neck as he fucked you, his shallow thrusts quick and desperate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his sweaty body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him even closer. It was so intimate, and Eddie was losing it.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, hips rutting against you as he pumped all his cum inside, balls tightening, giving you everything he had. He moaned your name again and again, shuddering on top of you.

As he came down and pulled out of you, freeing you from the handcuffs, he realized you didn’t get to finish. “Oh, shit, baby. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you-“

“Eddie, it’s really okay,” you giggled, not upset at all. “I still enjoyed myself. I don’t have to- oh!”

Eddie cut you off by diving between your legs, his tongue licking between your folds. He could taste himself where his cum leaked out of you, but he didn’t mind. You had never experienced anything like this before.

You moaned, writhing beneath his tongue, pulling on his long, soft hair. He devoured you, tongue moving up to flick over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. His tongue was so long and so talented, he’d never done anything with a girl before you and you knew this, but you would never have guessed by the way he ate pussy.

Eddie moaned against you, slipping two of his fingers inside as his mouth focused on your clit. He pumped them in and out of you much like he’d fucked you, and it wasn’t long before you were clenching around his fingers, moaning little “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”s as you got closer and closer.

You came on his tongue, pulling hard on his curls and nearly screaming his name. If anyone was out in the parking lot, they’d know exactly what you were doing and who was doing it to you.

Eddie kept his movements up until you were pushing him away, overstimulated. He moved back up your body and kissed you hard, both of you smiling against each others’ lips.

Eddie tucked his spent cock away back in his jeans and collapsed against the wall of the van, still shirtless. You pulled your panties back on, straightening your uniform. “Do you wanna smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie agreed easily, reaching into the front and pulling out an already rolled joint. He sparked it up with his lighter and took a drag, passing it to you.

As you smoked together, laughing and talking, Eddie felt like he was completely in love. But in the back of his head, Gareth’s words stuck with him, nagging. He didn’t really think you were only with him for the drugs, he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him as he did about you. Yet something about it wouldn’t leave him alone.

After practice and dressed comfortably in a t-shirt and soft short shorts, you walked to Eddie’s van with his arm around you. Your teammates gave you strange looks, but you didn’t care. You were happy.

“Hey!” You heard Chrissy’s voice calling your name as you were just leaving the building. You and Eddie both turned.

“Hey,” you greeted her with a smile. “What’s up?”

Chrissy looked awkward, uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” You looked up at Eddie and he smiled at you, bending down and placing a kiss to your lips. “Be right back.”

You followed Chrissy back into the locker room, which was deserted. Chrissy sighed, pacing back and forth.

“What’s up, Chris?” you asked, worried.

“It’s just…” She fiddled with her fingers. her nerves obvious. Like she was doing something she didn’t want to be doing. “Jason doesn’t like that you’re seeing Eddie.”

You blinked at her. Then, a laugh. “Chris, I love you to death, but I don’t really give a fuck what your boyfriend thinks.”

She winced, like she knew that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, but…” She sighed again. “Jason thinks that it ruins the image of the cheer team. He thinks as long as you’re dating Eddie, you shouldn’t cheer. And he got the coach to agree.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart beat loud in your ears, your hands starting to shake. “What?”

Chrissy looked pained. “I know. I tried to talk to him-“

“Why does Jason Carver have any say over who’s on the cheerleading team?” you asked, getting worked up. “This is bullshit. I’m team captain! And what’s wrong with Eddie? Besides that he’s a little different?” You scoffed. “You guys are so close minded it’s sickening.”

Chrissy looked as if you’d struck her. “It’s not me, I promise. I tried. But everyone else agreed.”

You felt sick to your stomach. You hadn’t felt as happy as you do with Eddie in…well, ever. You couldn’t choose between two things you loved.

Loved?

“I’ve got to go,” you said, shaking your head. “Maybe try to talk to your boyfriend again. Because mine hasn’t done anything wrong.”

You turned and left, catching up with Eddie. He wrapped his arm around you again with a smile, but he could tell something was wrong. “What happened, baby?”

“Nothing,” you said. You didn’t want to talk about it or make Eddie feel bad. And you were sure it wouldn’t really happen - right?

At Eddie’s trailer, it looked like he had cleaned up for you. He seemed nervous, even as you fell to the couch with lips locked together in a passionate make out session. His hand was under your shirt, grasping at your tits.

“Need you again,” he mumbled hurriedly as he pulled your shirt over your head. “Need to be inside you.”

“You sure no one will be home?” you asked, giggling as he leaned forward and kissed at your tits.

“Yeah. My uncle’s at work, we’re fine.”

He pulled your shorts and panties down before shoving his own jeans and boxers down. He spread your legs wide, neither of you caring about a condom this time. He sunk into you, snapping his hips into you wildly. He was desperate for you, no matter how many times he had you.

He groaned loudly, face in your neck again while he pounded into you. Your nails scratched down his shoulders, eyes rolling back at the bliss he was providing with nothing but his cock.

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you heard the key in the front door, or the door opening. However you did hear the shocked gasp that had Eddie pulling out of you in a hurry, covering your body with a throw pillow and yanking his jeans up.

“Jesus, Ed!” the older man exclaimed, covering his eyes. “On the couch??”

“Sorry, shit, sorry! What are you doing here?” Eddie buckled his jeans back up as you hurriedly redressed yourself. “I thought you’d be gone all night!”

“Forgot my lunch,” the man said, his voice gruff. “‘n just because I work nights doesn’t mean you can…do that in the living room, for god’s sake, Ed.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said again, his cheeks bright red. “You can uncover your eyes, we’re okay.”

The man cautiously lowered his hand, looking at the two of you. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie chuckled. “It’s new. Baby, this is my Uncle Wayne. Wayne, this is my girlfriend.” He introduced you by name, and Wayne gave you a friendly smile.

“Well, strange way to meet one another, but glad to meet you,” Wayne said.

“You too,” was all you could offer.

When Wayne grabbed his lunch and left again, you slapped Eddie on the arm. “You said you knew we’d be alone!”

Eddie laughed, dodging you. “How was I supposed to know he’d forget his lunch and come back?”

You supposed he had a point. You couldn’t stay mad at him - not that you really were to begin with. You cared deeply about Eddie, and you wanted to be with him. You just hoped that wouldn’t keep you from being on the cheer team.

part 2?

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[ihavenoideahowtodream]

if you are seeing something telling you how to get rid of something that developed slowly with your aging and generally would take more than 15 mins to reasonably manage in your daily hygiene routine esp if the thing they are telling you will immediately fix your wrinkles, scars, cellulite, yellowed teeth, etc cost more than 20 bucks (usd for me at least) then the only thing ugly in that ad are their words.

You dont go wrinkle free at ~ 35+ cause youve been playing in the sun for decades. Gray hairs happen in your 20s and on. Cellulite is a result of normal body fat retention. It is good you have it too because if you get sick and/or have eating limitations or irritations then your body will start taking nutrients from your muscles and organs. That Spare Tire that you have that means you get jeans two sizes larger than this ad is telling you should have is good to have cause sometimes you get sick and it will take longer for your organs to start shutting down if you are loosing weight from your love handles than the muscles in your legs making it harder to walk. your legs will still get weaker but not be actively depleted so quickly.

white teeth also dont exist. it is something tooth paste companies have come up with to sell you more expensive toothpaste and while for the most part it doesnt damage your teeth it is more abrasive than non whitening toothpaste so if you have bad teeth of some kind or have a diet that can soften your enamel already like regular pop consumption it can damage your teeth more. understandably, there is a sliding scale of teeth yellowing for concern, if your teeth look like a school bus then discussing with your dentist about if you are experiencing gum disease is advisable but the damn tissue test is the same arbitrary scale where there are a million was to be a person incorrectly but theres no ideal person that isnt steeped in classism at best and racism at worst. And if your school bus yellow teeth are declared healthy by your dentist then you dont need to worry about them any more. and just because your teeth are as white as the us congress wont always mean you teeth are healthy either. I have a friend who is neurotic about brushing their teeth and have been for the full decade ive known them who was told they have reversible but mild gum disease. contrasted to my adhd ass who brushed my teeth once a week maybe till i finally put my toothbrush in my shower 6 mo ago. I had a singular mild cavity when i went to the dentist for the first time in 15 years last year.

the concept also that you have to pay a bunch of money otc to be "beautiful" is an obvious indicator of scams. Olay's anti wrinkle creams they sell for upwards of $50 (usd) and other brands being almost $200? thats just evil. wrinkles are fine. and we dont have to call them beautiful, or sexy, or signs of wisdom. cause they may or may not be for what ever reason. That kind of language is still commodifying an individual's body as the indicator of their moral worth. Like i genuinely hate the 2025 US president and have always found the jokes about his orange skin amusing. however, the fact that americans first and primary dig at a person they dislike, for what ever reason, is their skin color that whether manufactured or not it is unchangeable by the viewer and by the viewed at the time of the insult displays our idea that association of physical features and moral depravity can walk hand in hand.

the most basic levels of presentability are quite simple: keep your hair tagle free to the limitations of your hair type and use protective hair styles and wraps if it makes sense for you. dont have obvious smudges of dirt or such on face, hands, and clothing. general anti odor hygiene like a form of deodorant or a mint after spicy food. keep nails trimmed and clean. and have clothing on that you obviously feel comfort in- for some this is sweat pants and a hoodie with crocks, others a cocktail dress or suit and leather dress shoes, or like myself tight pants for compression pain management and coordinated colors for my own visual comfort when looking in a mirror and boots with ankle support that are at least mid calf high so i dont have to bend as far to tie them assuming they arent slip on. and the clothes also lacking smells like a cat pee odor.

and like this is baseline presentability for going out with friends, interacting with someone professionally, going on a date, or some other equivalent.

Make up (including foux and uv tanning), nail polish, hair dying and time consuming at home styling, impractical shoes, jewelry, designer clothes and accessories, and other things marketed as necessary for you to be the best and most attractive version of who you are exist for fun and should be enjoyed as games. however, participation in these things should be respected as much as the general presentability practices.

someone in designer clothes with styled naturally voluminous curly hair with makeup that had a bill with 4 digits on the receipt and someone who looks like they woke up in a ditch after a three day bachelor party they only remember the first 20 mins of have the exact same value and deserve the exact same respect no matter where they are.

beauty ads have the same message across the board:

you must buy your value and we decide if you bought it correctly.

their determination is always gonna be that you did not buy your value correctly so buy this other thing in the hopes we decide youve bought value correctly. and they never say you bought your value to their satisfaction so that you keep buying from them

beauty ads will kill you if you let them.

companies make billions from you thinking you're ugly btw. only ugly thing is their bottom line. log out of tiktok right now.

[starsandsuch]

Libra Through The Houses: Where Do You Appreciate ✨Aesthetics✨ The Most 🍒

🎀 To put it bluntly: where are you superficial af? 😌💅😂

🎀 Libra represents the beautification of something. So where in your life do you prefer things to be beautiful?

🎀 Check the house you have Libra. Can work for sidereal or tropical.

Libra 1H: you want your physical appearance to look good. Always sporting your ideal hair, makeup, clothes, nails etc. You feel most authentic when you look physically beautiful. Since your physical appearance matters a lot to you, you spend a lot of money on ✨beautification✨. No matter what you strive to achieve your “desired appearance”.

Libra 2H: food has to look good for you to eat it. If the food don’t look good you ain’t eating it. This placement reminds me of someone who loves those little perfect looking pastries, cakes, deserts. You like foods that have an aesthetically pleasing look to it like sushi for example 🍣. You like to have a pretty wallet/purse. You may have custom design credit cards that are pink/sparkly/hello kitty. You guys have thee prettiest ID pictures! Your passport picture eats too. You are the person to be full glam and bring a ring light to the DMV to take your ID pic😂. Ok diva📸.

Libra 3H: oop I’m bouta spill your tea rn. You are the person in school with thee most aesthetic pencils, pens, backpacks. Your school supplies had to eat okur💅📚. Lisa Frank notebook girly. Rae Dunn stationary. Gel pens. You also love having pretty friends, in HS you could’ve been part of a clique of pretty girls. In present day you like your tech devices to have aesthetically pleasing phone cases, matching colors of airpod case, MacBook etc. You love cute stationary! You have to have aesthetically appealing social media presence! Even if you have socials where you don’t show ur face directly, whatever you are doing it HAS to look good. Masters of the ✨curated✨ IG feed. Hello Leo risings yes you take the prettiest pictures and have the cutest Instagram feed 🙄😘😂.

Libra 4H: your home has to be aesthetically pleasing. You don’t play about your decor. Even if you don’t have a huge budget, you like to make your space look ✨pretty✨. My libra 4H friends (cancer risings) in college, used to have the cutest dorm rooms. Which a lot of the time it’s hard to make a dorm room look cute LOL. You all have peaceful, clean homes with tasteful aesthetic touches💅. You like having a pretty car too. If your car doesn’t look good you don’t wanna drive it😭.

Libra 5H: you date the most attractive people. Your romantic interests have to be your “type”. What is your type ? PRETTY. They have to look good. You love bad b!tches that’s your f*ckn problem! 😂 . You also have to have your creative projects look aesthetic pleasing as well. You may make beautiful art. Clothes. You have to look pretty during performances etc. It’s likely that your future kids are beautiful.

Libra 6H: first of all I love you guys. Why ? Bc you all do thee BEST beauty services ✨. Alot of y’all are Taurus risings (applies to Taurus sun + moons too!) and every beauty service I’ve gotten from people with this placement have been on point. Facials, lash extensions, waxing, eyebrow micro-blading. You guys OWN the beauty service/procedure industry. You also HAVE to work in an environment that is aesthetically pleasing. A nice salon, wax studio, office etc. Also a lot of you guys have beautiful pets. Your dog, cat, etc are so adorable! You choose your pet based on how cute it is.

Libra 7H: of course your romantic partner has to be good looking. That’s high on your standards list be honest. People will say: “idc about physical appearance only the inside matters😇” and you’re like: “not to ME, y’all be easy though”😂😭. You will likely have a good looking spouse. It also matters that you and your spouse look good TOGETHER. You guys like being the “swaggy” couple. “Fashion Killas”. “Couple goals”etc. First impressions matter to you a lot, you like to look pretty when you first meet people. You also in general love mingling and socializing with beautiful people.

Libra 8H: you all like having a pretty kitty 🐱. It’s possible you do upkeep on it, waxing, bleaching, laser etc. People with this placement are so proud of it too they will brag on it. Ok diva 😂👑 💅. You look pretty even after undergoing challenging or traumatic situations. This is the placement of someone who has the biggest glow up after a breakup! “Post f*ckboy glow” ✨😌. Also how do you look so expensive on a budget?! People assume you wear designer even if it is from fashionnova?

Libra 9H: the places you travel have to be aesthetically pleasing. You aren’t the type to go on vacay and do it the gritty way, nope. You need pretty accommodations, beautiful views, bringing your good camera to capture everything in an aesthetic way. People with this placement have the best travel photo dumps. You guys make people wanna visit places after you been there! Ok travel influencer.✈️ Also whatever university you attend has to have pleasing campus aesthetics. USC comes to mind✨ they film so many movies there.

Libra 10H: the public thinks you’re so beautiful! I’ll just say it first since we’re all thinking it. You are thee pretty girl, baddie, dollface, all of the above🎀💅. The place that you work has to be aesthetically pleasing. You work somewhere with pretty architecture, near a nice garden, in a pretty part of the city. Your reputation is one where you are perceived as a well put together, well dressed, good looking person.

Libra 11H: oop this one is pretty obvious. You love having pretty friends 🤩. You like being surrounded by baddies. “I love bad b!tches that’s my f*ckn problem!” 😂 . Your life goals and aspirations involve making a beautiful life for yourself, literally. Pretty face, pretty body, pretty home, pretty bank account. Your social media presence has to be aesthetically pleasing. You take the prettiest IG pics probably 😏.

Libra 12H: you are the person to keep all your pretty, valuable items hidden. Collecting pretty clothes, makeup, accessories, jewelry. Do you need it, no?? But it HAS to be in your archive. You have to hoard ✨pretty trickets✨. You also have aesthetically pleasing spiritual tools, the cutest tarot deck, pretty incense holder, gorgeous crystals. When you are participating in spiritual practices you prefer the surroundings to be aesthetically appealing. No you are not meditating on the dirty ground, doing spells in a cave, you’re doing it on the cutest yoga mat money can buy 😌🧘‍♀️. Your altar is aesthetically pleasing. You have to have a pretty bed with pretty bedding 🛏😍.

starsandsuch all rights reserved ®

[mymoonisgrey]

mr. steal your girl

❤︎ ໋𓈒 in which satoru’s plans to steal you away from your girlfriend work, after a while.

warnings. 18+, smut, cunnilingus, p in v, satoru’s a smart manipulator, ooc, reader is bi and had a girlfriend, polygamy. based on this ask.

wc. 4.3k

A throuple. A polyamorous relationship. Not once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in one.

You’ve been with your girlfriend for a while now, and she’s wonderful—steady, kind, patient. You’ll admit that.

But a part of you has always yearned for something else. The kind of love that feels all-consuming. A man’s presence—protective, overwhelming, the low timbre of his voice settling deep in your bones, large, calloused hands engulfing yours, that brand of devotion you only ever see in movies.

Then Gojo Satoru waltzes into your life and tilts your world off its axis.

He’s thrilling, all spark and adrenaline. Just being near him sends a rush through your veins. Those striking blue eyes pull you in, make your head spin before you can even think.

It starts as a friendship.

You meet him at a bar, introduced through a mutual friend—Shoko Ieiri, who, for the record, is the human embodiment of lesbian energy. At first, you hang out in a group, once or twice. Then, somehow, it becomes a daily thing. Eventually, you’re comfortable enough to start meeting up with him alone.

“Trust me, you should really try the taro-flavored one,” he says, sliding the boba ice cream toward you with an easy smile. “I’m a sugar expert. And sugar varies, y’know?”

You hug your torso, lips quirking. “I know it tastes good. My girlfriend likes it.”

Satoru stills. The word hangs between you, and for a fraction of a second, his smile falters—so subtly you almost miss it.

Then, his expression smooths out, his interest sharpening into something even keener.

“Girlfriend?” he repeats, slow, as if tasting the word.

You nod, oblivious to the calculations running through his mind. “Mhm! I’ll bring her next time. You can meet her.”

A million possibilities unfold in his head, different ways this could go, all of them leading to the same outcome. Because he wants you—pronto.

His fingers graze the ends of your hair, his smile going languid, lazy.

“That,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “would be interesting.”

You didn’t think much about that interaction with Satoru at the time.

When you finally brought your girlfriend out to meet your friend, the connection between the three of you was instant—undeniable. Before you knew it, you had become a trio.

Satoru was always around, whether at your place or taking you both out. He spoiled you endlessly, never hesitating to drop money on gifts, meals, or spontaneous trips. He was the perfect masculine presence—charming, dependable, larger than life. Neither of you questioned it. Not at first.

You had no idea there was a motive behind it. Neither did she.

Then, one night, he brought it up.

“You know,” he starts, casual, almost offhanded. “We could just—make this a thing.”

You blink.

“Huh?” you mutter, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on your arms. Beside you, your girlfriend’s brows knit together.

Satoru swallows—an act, you realize later. He stares at both of you with a glassy, hopeful gaze, playing it up just enough to seem sincere but not too eager.

“I like you both,” he says. “So, if you’d like… I mean, I won’t take it personally if you say no—”

“Yes.”

The word leaves your lips before you can think, your back straightening as you nod.

Your girlfriend turns to you, eyes wide. But when you meet her gaze—soft, certain—she understands.

“…Yes,” she echoes.

Satoru smiles, slow and knowing. Then he stands smoothly, gathering you both into his arms—his grip just a little tighter around you.

It was a slow burn—he did think your girlfriend was cute, but you? You were everything. He could already picture it: kids, a settled life with you, lounging together in his clan’s estate. You, as his madam.

But he was patient. He took his sweet time, gradually pulling you further away from her without making it too obvious. It started small—sitting with you more often than she did, attending to every little need you had, hanging on to your every word. Then, the gifts.

“What’s all this?” you laugh softly, staring at the orange boxes with their fancy ribbons, the velvet-lined cases. You’d never been gifted something so luxurious before.

“They’re yours, honey.” He smiles, genuine, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I picked everything based on… what you like.”

Your heart soars, your lips curling into a smile as you hug him tightly. “I love you. Thank you.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Mmm, I love you more,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. He feels your eyes drift around, searching for something else.

His brow furrows. “I got her something too, don’t worry. It’s in her bedroom. When she’s back, I’ll give it to her.”

You nod, your smile warm, though your gaze lingers on the gifts in your lap. Part of you wonders—does she get the same? You assume she does. After all, Satoru’s generous.

He is, but only because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The gift for her? A simple diamond tennis necklace—barely a dent in his pocket. Not that it matters. This is all part of the plan.

It’s been going on for months—slowly, almost imperceptibly, Satoru has worked his way into your life, taking more of your attention, making you feel more at home with him than with your girlfriend. At first, it was subtle—the way he’d help you with everything, anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. But now, you’re beginning to notice the gap widening, the emotional distance growing between you and her.

Your girlfriend is becoming… strange.

She picks fights over the smallest things now—dirty dishes left in the sink, the couch cushion being out of place, your clothes tossed on the floor. It’s like every moment is an argument waiting to happen. Her moods shift at the drop of a hat. “I’m not in the mood,” she sighs. “I don’t feel like it today.” Even her complaints about Satoru—small, unimportant things—start to irritate you.

Satoru, on the other hand, never complains. He’s there when you need him, always helpful, always attentive. He’s not the one causing problems, and he never starts a fight. Everything he does seems to smooth over the tension.

But today… Today something shifts. Satoru’s patience snaps.

You’re out running errands, leaving Satoru and your girlfriend alone in the house. When you return, you find Satoru cornering her in the hallway. His face is expressionless, but there’s an undeniable hardness in his eyes.

“Honey,” Satoru says, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cuts through the air. His gaze never wavers from hers. “We need to talk.”

Your girlfriend glares at him, exhausted. “What now?” Her tone is laced with resentment.

“You’ve been really fucking hard on her lately,” Satoru continues, his voice deceptively gentle. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture almost predatory. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hard on her?” she scoffs, her eyes flashing with anger. “Oh, so now you’re playing the ‘knight in shining armor,’ huh? Tell me, why does everything have to revolve around you two, huh?”

Satoru’s lips curl into a tight, almost amused smile. He leans in, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re always together. It’s like I’m invisible! It’s like I wasn’t even your girlfriend too— she was my girlfriend first! why are you just… swooping in like im not here?!” Her voice cracks with frustration, but her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Satoru tilts his head, his expression cool and controlled. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t feel like she has to pull away from you.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. His gaze hardens. “I said maybe you should stop acting like a bitch towards her,” he states with calm finality.

Her face pales, and for a moment, she looks like she might explode. “Excuse me?” she whispers, barely holding back her fury. “You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just come in here, into our relationship, and tell me how I should act?”

Satoru’s smile remains unchanged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you’re making things difficult for her. You’re pushing her away, and it’s your fault.”

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?” she spits, glaring at him. “You’ve been plotting this from the start. You want her all to yourself.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think? Really?” He takes a step closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who’s been making it hard for her, not me. But if you’re too blind to see that, then that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “I think you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s smile widens. “Maybe I have.” His eyes flick to the door, a silent invitation for her to leave, to walk away. “But you know what? That’s your choice.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he turns, walking away like he’s won.

Your girlfriend stands there, her body trembling with anger and frustration. She breathes heavily, looking at the door, before storming out without another word.

You return home, bags in hand, and freeze at the sight of your girlfriend standing outside. Her expression is clouded, her shoulders hunched, and she looks as though she’s just been torn apart.

“Hey… Are you okay?” you ask softly, approaching her, your voice filled with concern.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Are you seriously asking me that?” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? You’ve been so wrapped up in him, in Satoru, that you haven’t even noticed me. I’m right here, but you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care anymore.”

Your heart sinks, confusion and frustration rising. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying—”

“No! Don’t give me that!” she snaps, her voice raw with emotion. “You’ve been all about him. He’s always there, always helping, always doing for you. What about me? What the fuck do I get?”

Your eyes widen as the weight of her words settles in. “That’s not fair. You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” she sneers, taking a step back. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. Like I’m just the other option, the one who gets pushed aside because you want him. You think I don’t see that?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you say, your voice wavering, emotions thick in your throat. “I’m not choosing anyone. I never wanted this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” she mocks. “But it’s happening anyway. Because you don’t see it. You don’t see me anymore.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them away, fighting back the lump in your throat. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you are.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve already hurt me.”

Before you can respond, she spins on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on your chest.

Inside, Satoru watches from the window, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watches the scene unfold.

You rush inside, groceries in your arms, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The door slams shut behind you with a soft thud, but the weight in your chest feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried. You fight to keep the tears at bay, but they burn at the edges of your vision.

Before you even reach the kitchen, Satoru is there—appearing as though he was waiting just for you. His hands are quick, steady, and gentle as he takes the groceries from your hands, setting them down on the foyer table with a careful precision. His eyes meet yours, searching for the storm brewing in them.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before his arms are around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“My heart, come here.” His voice is a soothing whisper, an easy contrast to the fury that still bubbles beneath your skin.

You crumble against him, the dam breaking, and sobs rack your body uncontrollably. It’s as if all the frustration, all the pain, all the love you’ve been withholding explodes at once. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, a steady presence, even as your body trembles with the weight of everything that’s happened.

“She’s being fucking unfair!” you choke out between ragged breaths, the words barely making it past the tightness in your throat.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His hand brushes through your hair, slow and gentle, as though each stroke is meant to calm the storm inside you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his own breath steady and warm against your skin.

“I know.” His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes your heart twist. “She’s not seeing it, baby. She doesn’t see how much you’re doing, how much you care.” He holds you tighter, his grip firm yet comforting. “But I do.”

You pull back just slightly, enough to look up at him. His eyes are sharp, a mixture of understanding and something darker, something protective. He wipes away the remnants of your tears with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face.

“She’s pushing me away, Satoru. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make her understand,” you whisper, voice raw, the weight of it all crashing down on you again.

His smile is small, but it holds a certain promise in it—a promise that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. “Don’t worry about that. Let me handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck. There’s something in the way he says it, something confident and unwavering. His hand moves down your back, his fingers brushing against your spine in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through your body.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” he murmurs, eyes darkening just slightly. “She’s not going to ruin what we’ve built. Not when we’re this close. You and me… we’re untouchable.”

You want to say something, to question him, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he holds you makes it hard to think of anything but him, anything but this—the safety, the comfort, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay again.

The thought makes you dizzy. And in the quiet of his embrace, you let yourself be swept away by the weight of his devotion.

The three of you sit on the bed, the TV playing in the background, but the quiet tension in the room thickens with every passing second. Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer, while your girlfriend watches, her hand inching toward his thigh.

Satoru notices first, his eyes flicking to her before he shifts slightly, pulling you into him even more. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His touch is steady, reassuring, as if to say it’s always been you, not her.

Your girlfriend hesitates, her fingers brushing his chest, but Satoru doesn’t react. Instead, his lips find your neck, kissing you softly, purposefully ignoring her advances. Her frustration is palpable, but she pushes forward, her fingers finding their way to his lap. She leans in to kiss him.

Satoru pulls away slightly, the edge in his voice sharp as he grabs her wrist. “Not yet,” he warns, his gaze unwavering. His attention shifts back to you, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to drown in him.

Your girlfriend, still sitting beside you, looks lost. She reaches again, trying to touch him, but Satoru doesn’t let her. With one hand still on you, his other gently pushes her back. “I said no,” he repeats, his voice dark with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.

You moan as Satoru’s hand slides between your legs, slipping under your clothes to find you already wet for him. He takes his time, teasing you, while your girlfriend stares, her breath catching in frustration.

The more Satoru touches you, the more your body responds. His fingers slide inside, slow at first, but he picks up the pace, bringing you to the edge. You can barely keep your composure, his lips never leaving your skin, his movements relentless.

And then, without warning, your girlfriend’s gaze shifts—no longer hungry with desire, but with a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Satoru’s full attention is on you, and he isn’t even looking at her. She’s no longer part of this equation.

As Satoru picks up speed, his breath ragged in your ear, you come apart under his touch, body trembling, desperate for more. He pushes deeper, claiming you fully, making it clear that you belong to him.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your breathless moans and Satoru’s steady pace. Your girlfriend sits motionless, helplessly watching as the last pieces of her place in this dynamic crumble.

Satoru wastes no time, maneuvering you onto your back on the bed. His hands are rough, skilled, as he strips you of your clothes with an urgency that matches the fire in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips burning trails on your skin as he works his way lower, lower, lower.

“Look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growls, his voice low and thick with desire as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. The sensation makes you gasp, your body arching up involuntarily. You can feel his knee pressing against your cunt, the heat of him seeping into you, sending electric shocks of anticipation through your veins.

Your girlfriend, watching from the edge of the bed, stays silent, her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. She’s hot and bothered, her body reacting despite the anger twisting in her chest. She’s fed up with the whole situation—tired of being the afterthought. She hates the way Satoru devours you, but she can’t tear her eyes away.

“Ng—Satoru…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his mouth works its magic, sucking your nipple until it’s slick and swollen. His lips leave your skin with a soft, wet pop as he shifts his attention lower, his knee pressing harder against you, reminding you of how he owns every inch of your body.

He lifts your legs, spreading them wide as he moves between them, his eyes dark with intent. “Fuck,” you yelp as he finally lowers his mouth to your cunt, his lips and tongue finding your clit with practiced ease. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth as he hums with approval, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he mutters into your heat, his voice muffled as his tongue works relentlessly. You can barely process the words as your hips begin to squirm under the relentless pressure, his grip locking you in place. Your feet flail, trying to gain some sort of control, but Satoru has you right where he wants you—completely at his mercy.

“Sat—Satoru—” you pant, your body trembling, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach. His tongue is relentless, his mouth working you down to the bone, and you’re losing yourself to him.

“Down, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing despite the intensity of his actions. “Let me eat.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone making your heart race even faster.

Your hands dig into the sheets, fingers curling tightly as his mouth continues to devour you. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck of his lips, drives you closer to the edge, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. His grip on your hips tightens, ensuring you stay locked in place, and you feel your body trembling, the first waves of your orgasm crashing over you.

As you’re lost in the pleasure, you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend—her expression a mixture of frustration and arousal, her eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. The tension in the room shifts, the air thick with everything unspoken. But Satoru’s focus is entirely on you, making it clear who truly holds his attention.

You’re pulled back from the edge, gasping for breath as Satoru pulls away, his lips glistening, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks up at you, his face smug but tender, a twisted combination of possessiveness and affection. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

Your girlfriend, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watches, her chest heaving with a mix of frustration and desire. But she says nothing, the distance between the three of you growing ever wider.

Satoru’s movements slow for a moment as he looks down at you, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness and hunger. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it gently as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you’re helpless like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and gravelly. “Can’t get enough of that sweet little pussy of yours.” He groans, his hips rolling slightly, teasing you just enough to make your body twitch. “You’re all mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this.”

You whimper beneath him, your hands fisting the sheets as his words make your core tighten with need. Satoru lowers himself, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks again, his voice dripping with desire.

“Say it,” he commands, his breath hot against your skin. “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love how I fuck you like this.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I love it, Satoru—fuck, I love how you make me feel.”

He chuckles low in his throat, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Good girl,” he purrs. “So fucking perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna make you feel like I do, not even your girlfriend. You’re mine, and you know it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, feeling him fill you completely. His words sink deep into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. “Yes, Satoru… only you…”

“Damn right,” he growls, his thrusts growing faster, more brutal. “I’m the one who makes you come apart, not her. Every single inch of you belongs to me now. You’ll never be able to leave me after this, baby.”

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in as he pulls you against him with each powerful thrust. He watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring you as you squirm beneath him, your body moving in rhythm with his. He groans, the sound deep and throaty as he leans down to kiss you again, hungry and demanding.

“You wanna come again, huh?” Satoru whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? I know you’re close… you’re so fucking tight around me. You love how deep I fuck you, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please, Satoru, I need you… need more.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “I’ll give you more, baby. I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

He picks up the pace, slamming into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you raw.”

“I want it so bad,” you moan, your body trembling as you feel your orgasm build. “I want you to make me yours, Satoru. I want everything.”

With that, he groans, his thrusts growing even more intense as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you into a state of pure bliss. “That’s it, baby,” he growls, “Come for me. Let me feel how fucking tight you are around me.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body spasming as you scream his name. Satoru follows close behind, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own release flooding you as he grits his teeth in satisfaction.

You feel yourself being gently lifted, your body weightless in his strong, warm arms, and you’re dizzy from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. Satoru moves you up the bed effortlessly, his chest pressed to yours as he cradles you in his embrace. His lips brush your temple, soft and tender, as he whispers, “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’ll clean you up and feed you in a bit, my love.”

You nod, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you, your body still humming from the intensity of everything. The soft comfort of his touch is like a balm for your overstimulated body, and you lean into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

But then, your gaze shifts, and you look around the room, your mind catching up with the reality of the situation.

“Where’s—”

“Gone.” Satoru whispers, his voice low and soothing as his lips press against your neck. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything feels impossibly right.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you hug him tighter, the full weight of his words sinking in. Gone. It’s just you and him now.

“Finally,” he breathes, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

for the anon that requested this, i hope its up to your liking and expectations. :) tried my best. pls let me know what you think through the inbox 🤍

© All Rights Reserved mymoonisgrey

[gvshing]

Roommate Vi✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Masterlist C.W. mentions of being drunk

Roommate Vi loudly plays her games in the middle of the night. It’s 2 am and she’s screaming at 14 year olds for getting her killed in Fortnite. “Dude! What the fuck! You were supposed to cover my ass!” Is all you hear, all night long, through the paper thin walls. When she gets too loud you’re throwing pillows at the wall. Her big ass headphones planted atop her head, denting her hair into the shape of them, tuning out the sounds of quiet thumps against her wall. You eventually have to go knock on her door to tell her to keep it down around 3 am. She has work in the morning, you can’t quite wrap your head around how she plays all night and still makes it in on time. Vi will apologize, embarrassment etching her features. Though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like seeing your frazzled state standing at her bedroom door every night. Cozied into your pajamas and a blanket wrapped around you, sheltering you from the cold. She keeps it cold as hell in the apartment. She runs naturally hot so you never complain, enjoying wearing the hoodies around the apartment and the old stained sweats you’ve owned since you were a teenager. They were more comfortable than the shorts that rode up or the tank tops you were always worried would move and flash her. She loved seeing your sleepy eyes and frizzy hair from all the tossing and turning trying to tune her out. She stays quiet for as long as she can, but she has a hard time controlling her volume when she’s angry or heavily enthused. Usually, she’ll get loud about an hour after you’ve scolded her, but that works for you. By that time you’re sound asleep.

Room mate Vi comes home drunk on the weekends after nights of bar hopping with her friends you still have yet to meet. Except in passing when they’re helping her get into the apartment. You’ll do a silent exchange of taking the load of Vi’s weight into your arms, nodding and a quiet thank you slipping through your mouth before they’re gone again. You’ll pull her into the room, wrecked from her getting ready earlier. Clothes thrown all over her bed and hair products splayed across her dresser. Moving the clothes to the side, you carefully help her into bed, she throws herself the rest of the way down and cackles loudly. “Woah! Hi Y/N! When did you get here? Or me? I missed you~” In a sing-song tone she’ll realize she made it home safe once again. She cracks her eyes open into slits to glimpse you taking her shoes off. Sighing loudly as you place the shoes on the ground, she huffs in annoyance. “What could you possibly be annoyed about, Vi? I’m helping you.” You say, frustration lacing your voice. You’re not mad that she’s come home like this again, she’s still young, that’s what she’s supposed to do at this age. Still worry swirls around your chest at the thought of her friends not being there one day, but deep down you know she’ll always make it out safe. She’s strong, even shit faced drunk. And to be honest, you never mind helping her after a night of drunken adventures. It warms your heart to know you can be there for her in such an intimate way, even if her drunken self always finds something to groan and pout about. She’ll continue sighing loudly until you sit next to her lying body on the bed. Stroking her hair until she settles, “I’m going to grab you water and some medicine for when you wake up, okay?” She groans once more and throws her arms around your waist, rapidly shaking her head, holding onto you until sleep finds her. You sneak out of her room and return with the hangover remedies, softly setting them down on the nightstand and quietly exiting the room, fearful you’ll wake her up.

In the morning, she’ll wake up in a haze, quickly take the medication and gulp down the water you left for her. She’ll stumble out of her bedroom, finding you in the kitchen making breakfast. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get that drunk or make you take care of me.” She apologizes profusely, clambering over to the table to sit down, wincing at the way her head pounds harder when she sits down a bit too hard. “I never mind, Vi. You’ll feel better soon. Want breakfast?” You both sit in silence until after she finishes eating. Slowly she’ll feel better and then you’ll recount your night of babysitting her drunken persona. Secretly, she loves when you take care of her, drunken or not. And you love to be the one taking care of her. Love the feeling of being useful to her. 

Room mate Vi has a bad day at work like 70% of the time. You’re not sure why she still works there if she hates it, but she needs the money and you can understand that. She slams the door open and closes it a bit loud and viscous. Stomping to her room to scream into a pillow and punch her mattress out of anger. You hesitantly walk up to her door and knock lightly. You hear a quiet ‘come in.’ through the door and you slowly open the door and stand in the threshold. “You- What’s wrong?” Anxiety spreading through you. You’re never mad at her for getting as rough as she does when she’s mad. But, it still makes you feel uneasy. She exhales a breath of irritation. “Just a bad day. Work fucking kills me. The customers have to be having meetings in the mornings about how they’re all going to come in and ruin my day. Like they have to be. It’s insane.” You give her a look of sympathy and walk over to her desk chair. “I’m sorry. Tell me about it?” She’ll rant for an hour about how every customer was rude, obnoxious or stupid. Ending it feeling better about her day having gotten it out of her system. You truly make her feel at ease.

Room mate Vi and you reserve Sunday nights to hang out together. Usually cozying up in the living room, a shared blanket and too many snacks for one night, a movie playing on the TV. Every Sunday you trade off who gets to pick the movie. Vi usually picks an action movie or a romcom that she makes you promise not to tell anyone she enjoys. You taunt her with the threat of telling whatever friend that brings her home that week and she’ll tickle you until you can’t breathe and you’re promising over and over you won’t actually tell anyone. She settles back into her spot and gleams with triumph. Throughout the night you guys always find yourself moving closer to the other until you’re practically cuddling. Snuggled into her side and her arm thrown around the back of the couch, that’ll eventually get tired of being up there and trail down to being wrapped around your shoulders instead. You fall asleep like that and she gently scoops you up and brings you to your room. Tucking you into bed, she’ll push your hair back behind your ear and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. She tells herself it’s normal to feel the way she does with you. You’re friends after all. She walks out of your room and softly closes the door. She stands in front of your door for a minute and catches her breath, waiting for her heart to slow down back to its normal pace. She just likes being around you. Nothing more, you’re a good friend. She finds herself staring at you, often, yeah. Friends do that. Catching herself missing you when you walk away, and imagines kissing you, more than she probably should, it happens, it’s normal. Yeah, friends feel that way sometimes. Sure.

Room mate Vi who isn’t able to convince herself she doesn’t like you when you come home one day, giddy about a first date you have that night. She starts feeling a searing jealousy rising in her. She can’t push it away and she’s pouting all day long. Sending you off with just a “Yeah, have fun. Be safe.” when you’re leaving. It leaves you perplexed, her sudden coldness. She sits at home, brooding, the rest of the night until you’re home. When she sees the look of disappointment on your face, she feels her heart leap. She feels bad for finding joy in your disappointment, but she can’t help herself. “Are you okay? Date not go well?” She hears the eagerness in her voice and inwardly winces. You huff and trudge to the couch, throwing yourself on it. You lay across her lap and stare up the ceiling. She strokes your hair and raises her eyebrows. A soft ‘hm?’ sound leaves her throat. “It wasn’t bad, but there just wasn’t any chemistry. I feel bad. I was so excited but she was so bland. I almost feel like she did it on purpose to drive me away. Maybe she didn’t want to go out and was just being nice when she said yes… I don’t know.” you sigh in defeat and toss yourself around to shove your face into her lap, shading your face away from her. She exhales softly and clears her throat, unease setting in. “Maybe? I doubt it. I bet she was just boring. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you? You’re so pretty and funny.” You snort in amusement. Twisting around to face her again. “You’re just saying that because you have to. But, I appreciate it.” She stares at you in disbelief. “I’m not just saying that, babe. You are a catch, people should feel blessed to be in your company. Let alone in such an intimate way.” You stare at her, unable to convince yourself that she’s being real. “Thanks, Vi. I appreciate you. It was just disappointing, but my feelings aren’t hurt.” She nods in a solemn agreement. She swallows her anxiety and reaches over to grab your hand. You interlock fingers and smile down at your connected hands. “Go on a date with me. I’ll show you what a good time with someone who values you, should feel.” You choke on your spit when you hear her say that and sit up fast. “What? I-” you stare at her and she continues staring at you, confidence spilling out from her. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She smiles mischievously. “Uh.. Okay. Fine. If you want to, you don’t have to do that just because you feel bad for me. That’ll make me feel worse.” You trail off and she shakes her head, chuckling lightly. “I mean it. I was going to ask you either way.” You laugh loudly and throw yourself back into her lap, covering your blushing face.

Room mate Vi plans the most thoughtful dates. A picnic with your favorite foods, stay at home movie night with a fort she made herself, though it looks janky and falls down a few times, surprise beach days. By the end of every date you share, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, feeling like you did a thousand sit ups from the pain of laughing too much and butterflies making a home in your chest. She always makes you feel that deserving feeling she preached to you. With her it felt easy, it made sense. And you felt silly for not seeing it earlier. It felt obvious that you both would be a good match together, but yet it took you so long. And it took her asking you. What if she didn’t say anything? Would you be living your life going on mediocre dates until the end of time? Either way, you’re glad you don’t have to do that. Glad you have each other.

Girlfriend Vi adores you and never goes a day without telling you how pretty and smart you are. She loves to see you shy away from her, loves to see your coy smile. You continue your Sunday movie nights, but with more kisses and cuddling now. You go with her on the weekends to watch how she gets herself to that point of drunken-ness. But, you’re the one taking her home now, not just tucking her in. You’re cuddling into bed next to her now. Her warmth radiates off her, no need for blankets when you have her to warm up. You wake up to her head shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around you and legs locking you in place. She snores lightly, peacefully resting off her hangovers, hard work days or rough workouts. You kiss her on the top of her head and snuggle closer into her, closing your eyes to drift off into that same peaceful rest. Feeling thankful you’ll never have to live without her or her calming presence. Even when she’s mad. 

[zuhaism]

i saw you have a sophia fic brewing and i’d love to req for literally ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE OF HER. she’s such a perfect muse and i just love reading people’s thoughts on her 🥹🥹 any hcs?

pairing : sophialaforteza x brothersbff!reader

a/n : THIS IS LIKE A SPOILER FOR MY SOPHIA FIC COMJNG OTW. my it girl this month is sophia i love her face omg and her kindness on dream academy i cant. my angel.

• sophia who tries to convince her friends she’s not into you and it was just a silly childhood crush. "i don't like her like that," she insists, arms crossed, looking almost offended at the accusation. her friends, however, know better. they exchange glances, barely holding in their laughter.

• she gives herself away all the time. like when she immediately straightens up whenever you walk into the room. or how her gaze subconsciously follows you when you’re talking to someone else. manon smirks. “oh, and what about how you always go quiet when she’s around?” “i do not—” daniela cuts in, deadpan. “you literally stop mid-sentence.” and right on cue, you walk by—brushing past sophia with a casual “hey, soph.” sophia freezes. entirely. her friends just watch. they watch as she visibly tenses, eyes wide, jaw slightly clenched like she’s trying to not react. the moment you disappear down the hall, her friends burst into laughter. "SHUT UP," she groans, face burning.

• whenever you call her name unexpectedly, she turns around way too fast and then tries to act normal, like her heart isn’t racing. her stomach flips at the sound of your voice saying her name, but she plays it off by raising an eyebrow. “what?” she asks, trying to look like she doesn’t care, crossing her arms. you just smirk, shaking your head. “nothing, you just looked cute in my jacket.” her friends bursts into laughter at how fast she turns beet red. “i thought this was Basil’s,” she tries to brush it off, tugging at the sleeves like that’ll somehow make the situation less mortifying.but then you tilt your head, smirking, “well, maybe this should be yours.”

• her friends gave eachother knowing glances and teasing smiles to sophia. she’s trying so hard not to react, but she can’t even come up with a snarky response her face is burning, her heart is pounding, and she’s pretty sure she just forgot how to breathe. “whatever,” she mutters, turning away in an attempt to save face, but she doesn’t take the jacket off. in fact, she wears it the rest of the day, pulling the sleeves over her hands whenever no one’s looking. sometimes she wears it at home but no one knows that of course.

• if you ever ruffle her hair or flick her forehead playfully, she’ll grumble about it but secretly loves the attention. “y/n, stop it,” she huffs, swatting your hand away, even though her ears are already turning pink. but the second you turn around, she’s fixing her hair with a small, hidden smile. her friends definitely catch it. if you don’t do it for a few days, she wonders if she did something wrong. like, are you mad at her? did you get bored of messing with her? she tells herself she doesn’t care, but when she sees you approaching in the hall, she stands a little closer, waiting to be fake annoyed.

• and when you finally ruffle her hair again, she’s about to grumble like usual, but then “ugh, y/n—” “hold on,” you cut her off, and before she can process it, you’re smoothing her hair back into place, carefully fixing the strands you just messed up. her breath catches. she just stares up at you, wide-eyed, completely frozen as your fingers lightly graze her scalp. her face is burning. “there. much better,” you say casually, like you didn’t just ruin her entire day in the best way possible.

• and then, to make things worse you give her a light pat on the head. like she’s some flustered little puppy. “good girl.” sophia doesn’t even breathe. she just stands there, stunned, mouth slightly open like she’s about to say something but nothing comes out. she watches you walk away with her brother groaning at you. once you were out of earshot her friends lose their minds immediately.

• megan is the first to react, nearly choking. “GOOD GIRL??” she gapes at soph, then turns to the others. “did i hear that right?” manon leans in, smirking. “sophia… if you’re still not into her, i’ll gladly take your place.” daniela hums, side-eyeing you as you casually walk off. “honestly? if you’re serious you dont want her, it’s open season.” sophia finally snaps out of it, whirling around. “SHUT UP. ALL OF YOU.”her friends just laugh, shaking their heads, because she’s so obvious.

• when she’s walking in the cafeteria, she subtly checks if you’re already there. if you are, she pretends she didn’t see you, but if you wave, she instantly wave back. sometimes, she tries to act like she’s so busy looking at her phone, but the second you greet her, her focus snaps to you. her wave is always a little awkward too stiff but you smile anyway, which makes it worth it.

• if you casually drape your arm around her shoulders, she stiffens for a solid three seconds before melting into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the first time it happened, she froze like a deer in headlights. now, she tries to act unbothered, even tilting her head slightly against you but if anyone teases her about it, she immediately pushes you off with a glare (but she doesn’t really mean it).

• the first time it happened, it was so unexpected. you had just casually thrown an arm around sophia’s shoulders like it was second nature—like it was normal. but for her? she almost passed out. meanwhile, you? completely unbothered. just chatting away like this was the most natural thing in the world. and after a solid three seconds of internal chaos, she relaxed. melted, even—because your arm was warm, your presence was familiar, and if she leaned just a little into you.

• tilts her head slightly against you? sure. shifts a little closer? okay. lets herself enjoy it? absolutely not. because the second someone (usually megan or manon) raises an eyebrow as they walk down the hallway, she immediately stiffens, shoving you off with a glare. "get off, y/n." you just laugh, raising your hands in surrender. "okay, okay." then she goes off to regroup with her friends. ignoring the way her cheeks burn. megan grins as she comes over. "you literally didn't care five seconds ago." "i DIDN’T NOTICE," sophia argues, glaring at her. but later at home, when you do it again effortlessly slinging your arm around her like it belongs there. she doesn’t push you away. she just pretends not to hear her heart pounding.

• whenever your band plays at school events, sophia acts completely unbothered. arms crossed, face neutral, like she’s barely paying attention. but the second the song ends? she’s the first to cheer. loud. enthusiastic. maybe even a little too eager. she swears she’s just there for her brother. just supporting the school. not because you’re on stage looking stupidly good under the lights. definitely not that. but her friends aren’t blind. her eyes never leave you the entire performance.

• and when you’re learning a new song? she’s suspiciously invested. “you should play this one next,” she says, casually sliding her phone across the table with a playlist already queued up. “oh?” you smirk, leaning in a little too close. “you been thinking about my setlist, baby?” immediate regret. her ears turn red. "shut up. just listen to it." and it doesn’t stop there. she finds excuses to hang around when you’re practicing in her basement with Basil and the others. she says it’s ‘boring’ at home, but everyone knows better.

• Basil groans every time she shows up. "you don’t even care about band stuff." “i can’t hang out with my brother now?” she huffs, plopping onto the couch like she belongs there. but the way she sits up the second you pick up your guitar? the way she suddenly has opinions on which songs you should cover? yeah. Basil’s not buying it. "jesus, if you like her so much, just say that." “i do not.” but the giddy little smile she tries (and fails) to hide when you invite her to listen to the set. tells him otherwise.

• sometimes she texts you late at night, she spends at least five minutes rereading what she wrote before pressing send. and if you take more than a minute to reply, she convinces herself that she said something dumb and deletes it. the next morning she’s met by your text “??” “nothing”

• if you ever notice something small about her—like a new bracelet or how she tied her hair differently she thinks about it for the rest of the day. “nice bracelet, soph.” your voice is so casual, like you didn’t just send her entire nervous system into overdrive. she blinks down at her wrist, lips parting slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the little beaded bracelet she put on that morning. “oh… thanks,” she mumbles, trying to play it cool, but the second you walk away, she’s staring at it like it’s the only thing in the world. her friends don’t miss the way she keeps glancing at it, fiddling with the beads between her fingers. “you’re so obvious,” lara snickers, nudging her side. “mind your business,” sophia hisses, face burning, but even as she says it, she tugs her sleeve down over her wrist. she suddenly wants to protect it from the world.

• when you laugh at one of her jokes, even if it’s dumb, she gets this little proud smile and immediately tries to think of another one to keep you laughing. sometimes she catches herself laughing when you laugh too. it’s like muscle memory. now, whenever she gets the rare chance to make you laugh, she feels this ridiculous sense of accomplishment, like she just won something.

• sometimes, even when she’s not trying, she still finds herself smiling just because you are. like earlier today when you were joking around with her brother. she had no idea what was even said, but you were laughing, and next thing she knew, she was already smiling. she’s not even focusing, but whenever she sees you smile, she smiles too.

• “what are you smiling at?” daniela teased, catching her in the act. sophia immediately wiped the smile off her face, turning away. “nothing.” but the both of them knew it wasnt nothing.

[madewithsilk]

Can you do a rlly feminine reader with either Ellie williams, Abby, or Vi? Please n thank youuu 🙏🙏

— ᴠɪ x ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ (ꜰ!) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

— Vi who worships the ground you walk on. She'll get you everything and anything you want, you've hardly ever heard the word no leave her mouth. How could she say no to you?

"Vi, which one should I get!" You pout, complaining with two equally beautiful dresses in your hand. Vi looks dumbfounded while staring at you, snapping herself out of the trance. "Uh, get both, I'll buy both." She clarifies, watching you wrap your arms around her. She'd spend a million dollars on you to get that same reaction each time.

— Vi who follows you around like a lost puppy. Her friends have even called her out for it, when you're at a party or a reunion of some sort, she's after you and following your every whim. She can't help it. And it's even worse when you're upset with her, she can't take it.

Vi's eyebrows furrowed, hugging you from behind and nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck with unshed tears. "Why are you so mad, baby?" She whispers, knowing damn right why you were angry. You scoff and jerk her hand away but she just holds you closer. "Wanna do my makeup or some shit like that? Just stop being mad." You turn around with lit up eyes, a smile coming across your face.

— Vi who enjoys servicing you more than receiving. She loves getting down on her knees for you, begging you to let her eat your cunt. She loves when you tangle your hand into her hair and guide her, or when you grind against her face like if she were a toy.

Her blue eyes gazed up at you as her nose grinded on your clit and her tongue fucked your entrance. Your legs were thrown over her shoulder, whimpering and bucking your hips upwards. "Vi, m'so close—" She gave you as many orgasms as you wanted.

— Vi that loves when you leave bright pink kiss marks all over her face. She gets woozy by the end, head spinning with all the little lipstick marks her cheeks and neck.

You had been trying to find a kiss proof lipstick, trying on multiple kinds and brands just to see Vi and see if it would rub off. Perhaps you purposefully tried all not not-transfer-proof ones so she could look beautiful with you lip marks. "Awh, none of these don't smudge!" You bounce slightly on the couch, complaining. "Jus', just keep trying, dollface."

— Vi that loves playing housewife with you. She’s always been the one to do everything her whole life, so coming home from work to a pretty wife who prances around with a floral apron on while cooking dinner and doing laundry is just her dream.

Vi puts her coat up, takes her shoes off, and tumbles over to the kitchen just to wrap her arms around your waist and sway you side to side. “Made your favorite, ma’am,” You tease and giggle just for her to kiss you briefly. “Love you so much,” And when she wanders off to the bedroom, clean clothes, tidy space, and bath set up for you both, she falls even deeper in love.

— Vi who dreads punishing you and even then treats you like glass. She knows she has to put her foot down when you act up, but its so hard. You're also so stubborn when it comes down to it, she's practically begging you to say sorry.

“Jus’ apologize baby, I’ll let you cum right away,” She’s stripped your third orgasm from you, pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping pussy. You shake your head, squirming and moaning. It isn't till the fifth orgasm she stripped you of that you finally babbled “M’sorry! So sorry— please Vi!”

— Vi who kisses your cunt after you cum multiple times. She grinds against the mattress, getting off simply from placing small pecks on your twitching nub, tongue circling it gently and watching your body shiver.

“Did I do good?” She whispers against your pussy, sending vibrations up your core. You nod and pant, “Such a good girl,” You praise and pet her hair.

[koofleur]

sweetener

details ;

pairing: navy officer!jungkook, teacher!oc summary: when he surprises you on christmas type: drabble wc: 1.1k

۶ৎ ♡ 국 ; nin's diary: hey guys, first post in here! would mean a lot if you showed some love! i had an account before, @/kookoomyboy which got terminated for some reason i still haven't gotten clarification about :( ps: this was a requested piece from when i was there.

“dada! look what i drew for you!”

the little girl’s giggle melts in your ears as soon as you step out of the classroom to drop her off. ara, your brother jin’s daughter was such a bubbly child, closely resembling her dad’s and mom’s soft features.

“jin, hi” you waved at him, nudging ara to her dad as she scurried towards jin’s open arms.

“hi, oh my baby who is this handsome man you’ve drawn right here” he sweetly appreciates his cherubic daughter, cradled in his arms, your smile widens seeing your brother so happy.

“ara, would you draw one for me as well?” you coo into her ears, petting the silkiness of baby hair that is tied up in a cute ponytail.

“yes auntie! i’m going to draw one with uncle jungkook and you!” she pats onto her bag as it clinks with all the colorful pens and papers stuffed inside.

“oh sweetie auntie would love that!” your mind, though, wanders off to jungkook, who is probably in the middle of the vast ocean, working for his country, making everyone proud.

but you sure miss your high school sweetheart, the black haired doe-eyed boy you met years ago, who’s now your husband. 

“__, if you ever feel alone, maybe i can drop ara off at yours sometime so we can getaway a little you know.” he winks lightly at ara’s mom, seated in the car, oblivious to the snarky comment he just made.

“i would love to have ara over, but not this christmas.” your lips curved into a smile.

“jungkook will be home on the 25th, tomorrow. though it’s late, i can still have him with me for a whole month!” you felt like a schoolgirl again, one who is head over heels for that one boy.

“finally that little dork finds time to spend with his wife. literally after dating for almost half of your lives and even marrying you he’s off in the middle of the sea, visiting once in a while like santa.”

jin’s brotherly instincts make you laugh as you shake your head

“i’m proud of him, jin. and i can wait, work here at the kindergarten and even play with ara and would still not feel alone because i know he’s with me everytime.” you say, matter-of-factly as jin mocks you again for acting like a teenager (as if he’s any better), but you didn’t mind, because these fleeting moments of thinking about your husband made you feel alive each time.

“okay then, it’s already evening! see you at christmas dinner tomorrow, and you better come with jungkook.” he “threatens”, making you helpless and thus ushered him to the driver’s seat, waving goodbye to ara, as you walk back to your own car, ending the day’s work at the kindergarten earlier than usual, to start christmas preparations.

you couldn’t wait to add final touches to the tree, and to countdown until the time jungkook comes home, when it would ultimately feel like one.

———

“that’s perfect!” your best friend jiah chimes through the phone, as you proudly show off the apple crumble recipe you were trying to replicate.

“it’s a bit too sweet for my liking though, but jungkook would surely love it.”

“yeah yeah lovergirl, isn’t your nice man home yet?” jiah asks as she is engaged in decorating her tree, busily shuffling through a multitude of gift boxes lying in front of her.

“he’ll only be here tomorrow, but before our usual dinner anyways.” you put the dish away in the refrigerator.

“okay then, i have to put up the star now, it’s long overdue.” you bid goodbye to jiah, sending her a pouty flying kiss, receiving nothing but an eye roll in return. typical.

picking up the gold and red star laying on the centre table, you heave a deep breath before trying to reach the top of the dark forest green christmas tree, already decorated.

after much struggle, but efforts in vain, your short figure hurries to the store room in search of a wooden stool stacked away somewhere.

10 minutes passed, as your defeated form emerges from the store room and leans against the door, high on contemplation as to how you’d accomplish this mission.

“never back down, angel.” you feel your senses coming alive, hearing a voice so familiar, a mix of aftershave and bleu de chanel ringing in your nose, a pair of sturdy arms wrapping around your waist lifting you up to bring you eye-to-eye with the top of the tree, holding you steely on the broad shoulder.

you had him memorized at this point. it was jungkook. his white uniform clad body, fit and firm, fluffy black hair that brushed against your exposed waist through the flimsy material of the red tank top wrapping around your figure.

say, you’ve taken his words in, quietly leaning forward, placing the star oh so perfectly on the tree, pleasantly but not obviously surprised as you wanted to tease him for a while longer. you knew he’d come to you, even if a day earlier than informed and spend time with you like this. and display of strength? you were a sucker for that, only from the man who’d not let a scar touch your body when he had you close.

he brought you down from his shoulder, immediately towering your frame, eyes finally meeting after almost an year.

“hi” he sweetly muses, making your heart topple over and above.

“hi” you smile, looking up at him.

“can i kiss you?” 15 years of togetherness and here he is, asking you for consent. oh he’s your man, jacked and kind. not the boy you knew years ago.

“please do”

his words moved into you as he presses a sweet peck onto your lips.

a feather touch, makes you yearn for more.

a moment.

coming back up to look into your orbs for a second, he dives back in, to your petals, like a man starved. foreheads pressed together, relishing the minute the both of you get engrossed into the kiss. he dips down, and learns you in a way no other can. pulling you closer it seemed like he was going to kiss you until christmas eve. you wouldn’t mind that.

“merry christmas, darling.” he whispers, voice hoarse and warm on the cold winter day.

“i missed you, love. merry christmas.” you kiss his nose in response, as he scrunches them. hands smoothing through the locks of your hair, he stares at you for a minute.

“i’ve made your apple crumbles, extra sweet this time though.” your eyes search his, as he chuckles.

“i think i’d want something just a wee bit more delightful than the desert you made, though.” 

his eyes gleam in mischief, placing you on his lap, cradling you close to his chest, hands ran on it’s own accord, exploring his broad shoulders.

“then let me be your sweetener, babe.”

[ramp-it-up]

Fade to Love

Summary: You and Bucky go way back. Way back to when you acted together 20 years ago. You had a crush on him then, but you were too young. Tragedy and artistic passion made you best friends. Will your history make you lovers?

Word count: 4.3 K

Pairing: Actor!Director!Producer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I've been dreaming about this ever since I got my #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Best Friends to Lovers. As always, I crave feedback, so please let me know how you feel in asks, comments, reblogs and likes. TIA! ❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Best friends to lovers. All of the reckless behaviors that come with growing up in Hollywood, teenage crush, small age gap, young love, tragic loss, idiots in love, cigarette smoking, mutual pining. Then comes the smut. :)

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———

This was deja vu all over again.

The paparazzi swarmed the studio as you and Bucky arrived for your meeting at the studio. After all, you'd spent your teen years under the camera’s glare, a co-star in an ensemble drama series, Idol’s Ridge, that captured the hearts of millions 20 years before. 

During those five years portraying Sophie Randall, you’d met the people who’d become your best and enduring friends. Sam Wilson, who played your older brother, Peter Randall, Carol Danvers, who played your best friend, Morgan Blair, and James “Bucky” Barnes who played Sam’s Best friend and Morgan’s older brother, Jack Blair. 

There were several other actors from the show with whom you’d remained cordial and friendly, but this was your core group. 

But today? Today was different. Today, you were meeting in a creative capacity, not just as an actress. You were going to control the narrative. 

The past twenty years had been a whirlwind. A marriage, scandal, and a career that had taken unexpected turns. You'd left the acting world long ago, but here you were again, standing next to Bucky Barnes, one of your best friends. Someone who’d been through it all with you.

Bucky, with his model handsome looks, dark hair and true blue eyes, was more than just a pretty face. His career had been varied, lucrative, and meaningful.

He was now reaching phenomenal heights. And he was the one the tabloids still associated you with, before, during, and after your marriage, even after all these years. 

The shipping of the characters was inappropriate at the beginning, but toward the end of the run when you were an adult, Idol’s Ridge fans were calling for Jack to notice Sophie, and wanted you and Bucky together, even though you never dated.

It was others pushing that narrative, always trying to create drama where there was none, not you two. 

You and Bucky were just friends.

But if you were being honest, that “what if” had been curling around your mind since you were a kid with a crush on a co-star who was too old for you. 20 to your 15 when you first started the show, Bucky didn’t spare you a second glance in a romantic capacity, but he took you under his wing and protected you, calling you his “Little Star.” 

He decided that nothing was going to ruin your innocence, lecturing you all the time about the pitfalls of fame at a young age, even as he was reveling in those pits. If he knew you wanted him to ruin you, he didn’t let on.

Bucky’s decency did nothing to sway your heart away from him. In fact, it only made him more appealing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes.

If Bucky noticed you growing up and becoming a woman, he didn’t let you know. You were always his little sidekick, not quite a sister, but definitely not a romantic interest.

Perhaps it was because his best friend, another rising star in tv and film, did. 

Steve met you briefly when he was filming in LA and hanging with Bucky. They were roommates in New York and best friends, having known each other as child actors from Brooklyn.

After he met you when he was 24 and you were 19, Steve talked about you all the time to his best friend and begged Bucky to give you his number. 

Bucky refused, citing the fact that you were not ready for the likes of Steve Rogers, the golden boy heartthrob actor who partied harder than he did. Yes, that was the reason.

On the night of your 21st birthday after Idol’s Ridge was over, you had a get together in Manhattan, because you were filming a movie in New York City. You invited Bucky who was now based out of Brooklyn, and Steve was not going to miss this opportunity to get next to you.

That night, 25 year old Steve Rogers bought you a drink, and the next morning, Bucky heard you two in the room next door, cursing his, and Steve’s, timing. The rest was tabloid history: the whirlwind romance, the young, impetuous marriage, the substances, the breakout films, the nominations, the miscarriage, the rumors, the tragedy. 

You were a widow at the age of 26, the caretaker of the legacy of one of the most talented young actors of your generation. Gone too soon.

Bucky was there for you, and you for him, feeling the loss as no one else could. When you were ready to get on with life, you and Bucky created Valkyrie Production Company as a tribute to Steve.

While you slowed your acting career way down before 30 years old, only taking on about one indie film project a year, Bucky’s career had taken off. 

He’d transitioned from actor to actor/director, and of course, actor/director/producer. You watched him get engaged to Natasha Romanov, one of the older Idol’s Ridge alums, break up, and then date a string of actresses and models, but nothing ever stuck.

You didn’t understand. He could be a bit intense, but Bucky was such a good guy. He deserved happiness. Now, he was a 40 year old single successful actor slash slash with no family to speak of but you.

“Ready to roll?” 

Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back into the moment. You smoothed your pencil skirt down your hips, which were wider now than they were 20 years earlier. You wondered what production would think of you at 35, no surgical augmentation, just naturally you in a sea of plastic.

Bucky was the same way, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray and crows feet framing his striking eyes. But on him they were ‘sexy.’

Women were held to a different standard.

You missed Bucky appreciating your curves and your looks as you bit your lip and looked up at him with those big eyes.

Bucky’s heart clenched when you smiled at him. So fucking beautiful.

“Yeah. Let’s make magic, ” you murmured.

Bucky was a goner. 

He loved your voice since you developed the lower register of your tone. It was one thing that the critics and fans raved over in anything you did.

He chuckled at how you’d trashed his trailer when he’d tried to hide your cigarettes from you that one time. It was all for naught, since you quit 18 months after you started. 

He didn’t know that you’d just done it to hang out with him outside the soundstage door, stealing time. But it had permanently changed your voice into something that cemented your icon status in the present day, despite your limited career.

Bucky grinned that boyish grin, the same one he’d flashed a thousand times when you were on set together all those years ago. It made your heart do that little flip it always did, despite everything.

You had a meeting with the studio execs to discuss the next project, a reboot of the very series you'd starred in all those years ago, Idol’s Ridge.

It was too perfect, too full of nostalgia. But it also felt strange.

You glanced over at Bucky as he started talking to the execs. He was charismatic, confident, everything he had always been. But there was something in the way he kept glancing at you. His eyes were more intense, more aware of your every movement. 

It was unsettling, especially the premise he pitched. 

You finished up with the execs and stepped outside the back entrance for a quick break and Bucky lit up a cigarette, something you hadn’t seen him do in years. 

“You’re quiet today,” he said, leaning against the wall. You inwardly railed at him smoking again, but he was grown. You watched the smoke curl around him through narrowed eyes. Then you grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

“Don’t do that, Star…”

You raised an eyebrow at him and then inhaled, Bucky watching you closely. Too closely, you might have thought if you noticed the way he watched your mouth after you removed the cigarette.

Bucky put the cancer stick in his own mouth and closed his eyes as he took his own drag, tongue chasing the filter as he removed it to exhale. He peered at you through the smoke, licked his lips and then dropped the half smoked bone on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his brown Ferragamo.

“We quit.”

You laughed and leaned on the stucco wall with your hand, staring up at him while he smiled down at you. This was your thing, this unspoken language that was understood but not explicit.

You worked together, but it was always more than that. 

You were waiting for him to speak, but Bucky could always wait you out.

“James.”

You punched him on the arm. Hard. 

“Ow!”

He laughed and rubbed his arm as he looked down at his shoes, smiling.

“You can do it, Star. I believe in you.”

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname. He always told you that you were the brightest little star on the set. 

“But Bucky…”

You thought you lost it when Steve disappeared. But you couldn’t lose that feeling, so you took small roles, just to have permission to be someone else for a time.

Your films were critically acclaimed, but your confidence was shot.

“You can do it.”

You appraised Bucky. Something had shifted. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was something more. Bucky looked right back at you, his expression softening. 

“Are you in or are you out, Star?”

“I’m in,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

He tilted his head, studying you. 

“Good. Because I need you.”

“You’ve always needed me,” you said, half-joking, half serious.

Bucky chuckled. 

“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.”

You could feel your heart pounding. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before. Like he was really seeing you. But you were reading too much into things again.

You took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve always trusted you, right? With everything. You’re the only person I’ve never felt like I had to pretend with.”

You took his hand and Bucky looked down at you tangling your fingers with his. 

He should tell you. 

“I know, Buck. You’re my best friend.”

There it was. The friend zone. Bucky sighed, but held on to your hand.

“Although we didn’t talk about that one plot point.”

You released his hand and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in your sweater. Not that Bucky noticed that sort of thing.

Bucky looked at you, one eye closed, squinting from the LA sunlight. Or was it because you were so gorgeous? 

To you, his glance felt loaded, like there was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. But of course you tried.

“Which one?”

You smiled at his evasion.

“You know. The one where our characters are married now?”

Bucky smirked.

“We discussed this being centered around the children of the cast from 20 years ago.”

You huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, Bucky, but our characters were never a thing.”

He stood up and walked two steps toward you, into your space.

“Not true. Sophie always had a crush on Jack, but he blew you off. It’s 20 years later, he’s grown up and finally appreciates the beautiful woman who was always right there in front of him.”

You looked up into his clear blue gaze and had a scorching comeback for him.

“Oh.”

He reached for your face, palm resting on your cheek, thumb brushing at the side of your nose.

“Hold up…” 

Bucky moved even closer and brought his face close to yours, warm menthol breath hovering over your own. He pulled his hand back and looked at it, showing it to you briefly. You didn’t see anything.

“Eyelash.”

He opened the door and held it for you as you tried to get your soul back into your body.

“Break time is over.”

—--

The next hours were a blur.

The production meeting went long as you brainstormed for the reboot, and you and Bucky worked seamlessly together, bouncing ideas off each other and firing on all cylinders. The dynamic was amazing and reignited your old crush.

You went to Bucky’s LA home after the meeting, excited at the preliminary greenlight for the project. You both decided to work on an outline that weekend to deliver to the studio Monday morning.

You’d gone home to pack a bag and get your essentials, as Bucky said you could bunk in one of his guest rooms. 

It would be like a sleepover with one of your girlfriends, sweet, innocent and fun.

But after eating takeout tacos from Leo’s, you got to work in Bucky’s home office, and the vibe was thriving, but different. Every time your hands brushed as you passed papers or exchanged a glance, it was electric.

The air arced between you, but you couldn't tell if it was just you, or if Bucky felt it too. 

As you sat looking at the whiteboard with the preliminary outline of the pilot episode, Bucky leaned back in his chair and regarded it, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“This shit is fucking brilliant. It’s going to be better than the original.” 

You looked at him, excitement coursing through you. You smiled at him and got up to walk behind his chair to lean on it and admire your ideas, as if you could see better what he meant from his perspective.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” 

You leaned down and whispered in his ear, afraid to voice it too loud. Bucky swiveled around in his chair to look at you. You were still in your outfit from this morning, too excited when you pack to change into something more comfortable. You looked gorgeous. 

He stood up and grabbed your hands in his.

“Better believe it, Star, we’re going to do this thing big.”

You squeezed his hands back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. Bucky’s hands were on your arms now and he was drawing you closer.

“Couldn’t do this without you, Star. I love… working with you.”

Your stomach flipped as he murmured at you. You inhaled the spice of his cologne and savored his touch while listening to his voice.

But your stomach dropped when you heard the ‘L’ word and you didn’t know what happened; just like Sophie and Jack all those years ago, you didn’t know what came over you when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s.

You had every intention of ending the contact before it began, but Bucky’s hands were now in your hair and tugged you close. He turned and lifted you onto his desk, stepping between your thighs, pressing them wide enough so that your skirt fought the movement.

It only made everything hotter. 

Bucky used his hold on your hair to tilt your head so he could kiss down your neck. You arched your back, needing his mouth all over you, needing him to rip you out of the clothes that had the nerve to create a barrier between you. 

For some unknown reason to your cunt, words emerged from your lips,

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

He pushed your cardigan off your shoulders and nudged your tank top lower so that he could mouth at your cleavage. Your panties flooded with wetness. 

“We’re both grown, Star.” 

The acknowledgement in Bucky’s rumbling voice sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. He skated his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until you had to lift your hips to allow it to bunch around your waist. He fingered along the edges of your panties. 

He looked down.

“Black lace. Fuck.” 

He cursed low enough that you had to strain to hear him. He licked his lips, his saliva making them look so delicious. 

“Can I touch you, Starlight?”

You shivered at the nickname and nodded, breath caught in your throat.

“Need your words, Baby. Need that beautiful voice.”

“Yes, Bucky. Please touch me…”

Bucky’s fingertips traced your clit through the fabric. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you.” 

“Me too,” you whispered, and he met your gaze, which threatened to stop his heart. 

His blue eyes were fire, bright enough to make your whole world glow. If you let him, he’d sweep you away and ensure you enjoyed every second. You wanted it. To be swept away by him. 

Bucky started the torturous slide of his thumb over your clit. You threw your head back and whined, caught up in a nirvana you’d only dreamt about.

“Bucky! Dont…”

He stopped what he was doing, stilling his hand over your cunt.

“Don’t?” 

His voice was broken, and pleading. You used your free hand to cover his where he cupped your pussy. 

“...Don’t stop Bucky….” 

Still he didn’t move, searching your face for answers you didn’t have. You drew in a shuddering breath. Bucky’s slow smile sent your stomach into a dizzying flip. 

“Naughty girl. You want to use me for your pleasure. Your own personal sex toy.” 

You dragged your gaze over him, from his dark hair, to those wicked blue eyes, to his sinful mouth, down to the pants clearly sporting a huge hard-on. You grew bold in the knowledge that he’d started this. 

Bucky Barnes wanted you, too.

“I have a sex toy. In fact, I have several. None of them look a thing like you.” 

His laughter rolled through you. 

“I guess I have work to do. Need to retire some sex toys. Check.” 

“You’ll have to work real hard. I’m kind of attached to them, especially Arthur. Haven’t had real cock in 2 years.”

Bucky arched his eyebrow and hooked his fingers through your panties and dragged them down your legs, stepping back so you could kick them off. 

“I’m disturbed that you named your vibrator.”

“Dildo,” you corrected.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“But I’m up for the challenge of making you scream my name…”

Bucky went to his knees between your spread thighs, looking at your pussy so intensely you could feel it like his touch. 

“And I won’t tell you that I’ve jacked myself to the thought of you countless times over the years.” 

“Bucky…”

He pressed a painfully gentle kiss to each thigh and then his breath ghosted over your clit. 

“I sure as hell won’t tell you that when I fucked my hand, and imagined being inside you, that I came so fucking hard, Star, just from thinking about being buried in you to the hilt.”

You tried to focus past the pleasure of his mouth, his big hands holding your thighs wide as he devoured you. But his words had you floating.

“I… You fantasized about me?” 

Bucky licked up your slit and then kissed it, looking up in your eyes before he answered you.

“Hmmm. Yes. I did.” 

He sucked on your clit hard enough to make your back bow. 

“Eating you out...” 

Another long lick and a smile that he was accomplishing that very thing. 

“You on your knees for me...” 

The image in your mind of looking up at Bucky made you clench down and Bucky smiled at your pitiful pussy.

“...Bending you over something, like this desk, and fucking you hard…”

You whimpered, your pleasure building as much from the fantasy as from Bucky’s mouth. 

“... Maybe taking that ass…”

He rolled his tongue over your clit, working you in just the way you needed. 

“....cuming inside you, or all over your back. I’ll let you choose.”

“Oh! Bucky!”

You were practically screaming as you tried to slow your pleasure, to make it last, but Bucky drove you to the brink and you couldn’t resist him. You came with a cry that filled the room around you.

Bucky didn’t give you a chance to recover, though. He stood and stepped back between your thighs to take your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue and it made your toes curl. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he lifted you off the desk easily and walked you down the hallway, still kissing you, never missing a step. 

“You’ve done this before,” you murmured. 

“Not like this. Never this.” 

He kept you pinned to him with one arm around the small of your back and used his other hand to pull your tank top off. You ran your hands down his muscled chest. He really was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him and touching him only magnified the sensation. 

He spun and pinned you between his body and the wall next to the door, thrusting against you. The seam of his pants pressed against your clit and you cried out. 

“More.” 

Bucky dragged his mouth up your neck and set his teeth against your earlobe and that set you on fire.

“You’re so needy, Star. I get it, I really do. Been wanting to show you how I feel for 14 years…” 

You gasped and Bucky’s teeth scraped against your lip, making your nipples tighten in response. He let you down and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.

“Strip.”

There wasn’t much left to take off, but you obeyed and his grin made your heart stutter. 

“On the bed.” 

You crawled on the mattress and reclined among the pillows. You were rewarded by Bucky stripping out of shirt, and his pants and underwear in one go, shoving the material down his strong thighs and kicking free of them, leaving him naked. 

The sight of his large cock straining against his stomach had you biting your bottom lip.

You knew what came next.

You craved it. And you forgot all about Arthur. You reached for him. 

“Don’t make me wait any more, Bucky.” 

He pulled a string of condoms from the nightstand and tossed them on the bed next to you. You counted six and raised your eyebrows. Bucky gave you an unrepentant grin.

“One condition.” 

“Damn it, Bucky.” 

Of course there were conditions. 

“Stay in my bed tonight. Another fantasy of mine.” 

You melted. Why not? It was finally time to have what you wanted. And you wanted Bucky.

You met those intoxicating blue eyes and nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

He was on you in seconds, shoving your legs wide and he ground the base of his cock against your clit. He tangled his fingers in your hair and took your mouth like you were the sweetest fruit and he’d never get enough. 

You reached blindly over and grabbed a condom. You tore the wrapper with your teeth and you rolled it over his cock. He allowed it, shifting back to give you the room to work.

Your body cried for him; you needed him inside you and you needed it at that moment. You lay back and  guided him into you and he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he had sheathed himself completely. 

Oh god. The stretch. Bucky broke free of your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between you. 

Each of your exhales came out as, “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” 

He gentled his touch, stroking your hair as if you were a wild animal he was taming. 

“Stay with me, Starlight. I’ve got you.” 

As if this was something that was forced upon you, rather than what you grabbed with greedy hands because you wanted it so badly. 

You smiled, blissful. Fucked out, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s cock pouding inside you. You needed more.

“Please move, friend. Fuck me, Bucky.” 

You hitched your leg around his hip so you could take him deeper and leaned up until your lips brushed his ear.

“I need it hard.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes together and bit his lip as the pounding of his cock increased. You both thought he would cum right then.

“‘M not your fucking friend…”

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up even as he impaled you again. 

“You want me to fuck you hard?” 

“Yes!” you moaned. 

“Knees wider, Starlight. Let’s go.”

Bucky slapped your ass and then grabbed a handful of your thick hair, tugging at just the right amount of pain to go with the pleasure.

The first stroke was slow.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fucking vice. Almost had me cumming a few minutes ago.”

You could tell that Bucky’s teeth were gritted when he spoke. He had to brace against the urge to rut into you like a wild animal, but his pace and intensity increased. 

For long, mind-blowing minutes, he thrust into you, paying attention to your sounds and movements to know that he was hitting that spot inside you. You meet him thrust for thrust as Bucky began to fuck you like his life depended on it.

He made the mistake of looking down at how your ass took the shock waves of his back shots and the evidence of your arousal left on his cock as he pistoned inside you and he cursed.

“Fucckkkkk! You should see the beautiful cream you’re leaving on my cock, Star. So fucking hot.”

The way you moaned set him on the road to orgasm and again and he reached for your clit, rubbing his thumb over it. Almost as soon as he did, you screamed his name and shattered beneath him. Bucky followed you headlong over that cliff and collapsed beside you, dizzy.

He looked over to see you already falling asleep, exhausted. He kissed your temple and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, coming back with a washcloth for you.

When he was done cleaning you up, he gathered your boneless body in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you curled into him, your head on his chest and leg thrown over his. 

It was like you didn’t want to let him go.

“I know the feeling, Star,” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes.

A feeling settling in his chest that he’d almost, but not quite, ever felt before.

[universefcb]

make one which reader and Pedri are trying to have their alone moment, but the universe seems like to be against them, and everytime they try something they're interrupted

↬❥ The universe against us

Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

a/n: I THINK THIS IMAGINE IS WHAT I LOVED THINKING AND WRITING THE MOST KAKAKAKAK. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

REQUESTED!

warnings: Hot kisses, stress, and comedy.

The sun was beginning to set in Barcelona, dyeing the sky with orange and pink hues. The city was alive, but inside Pedri's apartment, all that mattered was the comfortable silence between the two of you. He was there, sprawled on the couch, one hand resting on your thigh while the other absently played with a lock of your hair.

— It's been a while since we had a moment alone... — he murmured, his voice hoarse, his brown eyes fixed on hers.

You smiled, sliding your hand down his chest.

— That’s right. There’s always some event or games…

Pedri chuckled softly, leaning in to capture your lips with his. The kiss started softly, but soon intensified, his firm hand gripping your waist, pulling you closer. Your bodies adjusted naturally, and the heat that formed between you was unmistakable.

That's when his phone started ringing. Loudly. Insistent.

Pedri groaned in frustration, throwing his head back.

"I don't believe."

He ignored the call and went back to kissing you, but seconds later, the phone rang again.

“Better answer it,” you said, laughing at the irritation on his face.

He picked up his cell phone and answered without even looking at the caller ID.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

It was Gavi.

“Bro, can you tell me where my black boots are? You borrowed them last week!”

Pedri closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Gavi, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes, I do. That’s why I’m calling. There’s training tomorrow.”

“It’s in the hall closet. Now stop calling me.”

He hung up before his friend could respond and threw the phone away.

“Okay, problem solved. Now, where were we again?”

You laughed and pulled him into another kiss, this time more intense, his hands sliding over your skin in a way that made your entire body shiver. He leaned over you, his knee gently pressing against your leg, and you were about to finally lose yourself in each other when…

TOC, TOC, TOC!

The two were startled by the knock on the door.

Pedri closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

“If it’s Gavi again, I’ll kill him.”

He stood up, clearly irritated, and went to open the door. It was his brother.

“Fer, this is not possible now!”

“Relax, bro. I just came to get my headphones that I left here yesterday.”

Pedri practically pushed his brother out of the apartment and slammed the door. When he returned to the couch, his gaze was determined.

“I do not accept that the universe wins.”

“Me neither,” you agreed, pulling him by the collar of his shirt.

This time, you decided not to give him any more chances to interrupt. He gently cupped your face and deepened the kiss, his hands exploring every inch of you. You fit perfectly against him, his skin feeling warm under your fingers, and everything finally seemed to be going in the right direction…

But then…

The loud sound of the doorbell made you both jump on the couch.

Pedri stared at the door, his eyes shining with fury.

“If it’s Gavi or Fer, I swear…”

He opened the door with a jerk, and you were both taken by surprise. It was a delivery man.

“Request for Pedro Gonzalez?”

Pedri frowned.

“I didn’t ask for anything.”

The delivery man looked at the name on the paper and then at him.

“Oh, it was your brother. It’s in his name, but this is your address.”

Pedri ran his hands over his face.

“I'm going to kill Fer.”

After taking the order and closing the door tightly, he walked back to you.

“Forget the universe. I don’t care anymore.”

You laughed and pulled him back, deciding that this time, nothing else could get in the way.

And finally, the universe gave up on being against you.

✦ tysm by request

[skztext]

Hwang v. Hwang

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝑰𝒏 ❣︎ 𝑯𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒏

< Messages: Forbidden Young Love

Recipient: Hwang Yn & Hwang HyunJin

Contact Name(s): Jeongin [Iyenah 🧡] Hyunjin [#1 Hater] Seungmin [Seungmin (Jeongin’s Boyfriend)] Yn[Weirdass kid]

Username(s): Yn [not.your.hwangynn] Jeongin [i.2.n.8] ʎǝɾ︎ı̣(yeji)[thehwanggirl] Seungmin[miniverse.___ (private account/ toptierhater)] Felix[yong.lixx (private account/ justice4bbokari)] Minho[t.leeknowsaurus] Changbin[jutdwae] Chan[gnabnahc]

a/n: insomnia and boredom makes me creative. all for kicks and giggles. apologies if i misrepresented the group and the members. enjoy this mini series based off of hyunjin’s message in Brother SKZ: You’re dating who? enjoy the tiny story at the end app social maker ʙɪɢ ʜᴜɢs 🫂 ʜᴏᴍɪᴇ sᴍᴏᴏᴄʜᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ💋

warning (s): sassy kings// top tier haters// profanity// pet names// friends being friends// loving bullying// sibling clashing with sibling// siblings fighting// tiny bit of violence// tiny angst// ALL fictional

tag(s): @avilio-is-dead @chuuyaobsessed

word count: 1118

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Instagram post came as a surprise not only to the rest of the group, the fans, and the group’s media team but to Yn as well. The younger Hwang looked at her phone with tears in her eyes, she wiped away the few that rolled down her cheeks before getting out of her car. Yn sniffled putting her phone back in her sweater pocket, she made sure her car was locked before walking up to the apartment. When she knocked and the door opened she was greeted by the freckled blacked-haired Aussie.

“Hey Ynn!” He stepped aside to let her in, Felix was as welcoming as ever, he was always sweet to Yn. He treated her like a sister since she was close to his younger sister and Yn treated him a brother—better than how she treated her brother.

Walking into the apartment she was rushed by Jeongin, who picked her up swiftly into a tight hug. Yn hugged his neck, “You could get into so much trouble with that post-Innie.” Her voice cracked as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I don’t care, I’m not hiding you anymore. You’re my girl, you’re my world and I want to be able to show you off.” Jeongin assured her as he pulled away slightly to look at her, a hand cupping her face to caress her skin lightly.

“Gross. Go do that in private,” Seungmin chimed in as a greeting to Yn, walking out of his room. He nudged his head to his room, “Don’t do anything weird.” He teased sitting down on the couch and grabbing the controller to continue the game the maknae was playing. Jeongin smiled small, thanking his puppy hyung, and held Yn’s hand to lead her into the room.

Once the door was closed Yn hugged him tightly, crying into his neck quietly mumbling out the conversation between her and Hyunjin. Jeongin clenched his jaw, stopping himself from speaking ill of his hyung. He just apologized for causing her so much drama, he comforted her, “It’s going to be alright princess. I promise,” he kissed her forehead sweetly. He moved them to the bed, sitting down on Seungmin’s bed with Yn beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, leaning his head on hers, “No matter what happens Yn… I won’t ever leave your side.”

“And I won’t ever leave yours..” Yn reassured him, hugging his waist and hiding her face on his shoulder.

In the living room, Seungmin and Felix played Tekken, being anything but quiet and respectful while playing against each other. At the end of their match banging on the door filled the living room, Seungmin looked at Felix with a blank look, “Bet you your next paycheck it's the dumpling boy looking for Romeo and Juliet.”

“As if I’ll take that bet,” Felix joked getting up to open the door for their new guest. Opening the front door Felix saw Hyunjin and Changbin, who stood in front of Hyunjin.

“Hey, Bokki.. Can we come in?” Changbin in a hesitant tone. Felix glanced over his shoulder at Seungmin before sighing and stepping aside, allowing the two in. As expected, Hyunjin stormed past him, his jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury. Changbin followed quickly, his hand gripping Hyunjin’s shoulder in an attempt to hold him back.

“Where are they? I know Yn and that little shit are here, so where are they?” Hyunjin demanded, his voice sharp as he scanned the apartment, shrugging the hand off of him.

Seungmin sighed, pausing his game and setting the controller down. “Relax, drama queen.” But Hyunjin wasn’t in the mood for Seungmin’s teasing. He turned toward the closed door, his fists clenched. Before anyone could stop the quick little ferret, he stormed forward and swung the door open.

Yn and Jeongin, who had been in the middle of a hushed conversation, jumped at the sudden intrusion. Yn flinched, gripping Jeongin’s sleeve tightly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hyunjin’s voice was like a blade, sharp and laced with venom as he glared at Jeongin. “You thought posting that was a good idea?”

Jeongin stood his ground, his expression hardening. “I’m not hiding her anymore, hyung. She’s my girlfriend, and I’m not ashamed of that. I love her! My love just won’t go away by your say so!”

Hyunjin let out a bitter laugh, stepping forward aggressively. “You think this is about hiding her? Do you seriously think just because you think you love her is enough?! You just made her a fucking target, dumbass!”

Yn pushed herself between them, placing her hands on Hyunjin’s chest to keep him back. “Stop it, Hyunjin! You’re overreacting!”

“Overreacting?” Hyunjin looked down at her, his expression darkening. “Do you know how much shit this is going to bring you? To him? To us!? Do you have any idea what people are going to say? What they’re going to do?!?”

Yn’s eyes welled with fresh tears, but she stood her ground. “I don’t care! I’ve been so desensitized to all the hate you don’t even see it!! I’ve been putting up with it all of my life Hyunjin!! And I’m tired of you always interfering with my life when it comes as an inconvenience to you!”

“You’re being reckless and fucking stupid, Yn,” Hyunjin snapped. “This isn’t just about you!”

Jeongin had enough. He grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist, yanking him back. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

That was it. Hyunjin swung.

Jeongin barely dodged the first hit, but the second one caught his jaw, sending him stumbling back. Yn screamed for them to stop, trying to push her brother away, but to no avail.

“Hyunjin!” Changbin was the first to react, wrapping his arms around Hyunjin from behind and pulling him back. Seungmin grabbed Jeongin before he could retaliate, holding him in place. “Don’t,” he warned, voice firm.

Yn stood between them, shaking with anger. “I hate you, Hyunjin,” she spat, her voice breaking.

Hyunjin froze.

Yn wiped at her face aggressively, breathing heavily. “You always act like you’re protecting me, but all you do is suffocate me. And make everything worse, I’m done.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something unrecognizable before he tore himself from Changbin’s grip. Without another word, he turned and stormed out.

The apartment was silent except for Yn’s shaky breaths. Felix, Seungmin, and Changbin exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

Jeongin reached for Yn’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Hey… it’s okay.”

Yn swallowed hard, shaking her head. “No. It’s not.”And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if things between her and Hyunjin would ever be okay again.

“So are we telling mom and dad—?” Seungmin spoke up referring to Chan and Minho. Earning him soft glares from his fellow group mates, Felix shook his head, silently reminding the puppy that it wasn’t time for jokes.

[rin-eko]

Take Care of You - Caleb x Reader

Desc: Caleb taking care of you when you're feeling anxious and overwhelmed

Content/Warnings: light main story spoilers, non-sexual nudity, reader feels overwhelmed, comfort

WC: 2.4k

The silence was worrying.

Not a soul was in sight on the rumbling train speeding toward Linkon, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track accompanied by the drizzling rain hitting the windows.

Caleb was the only one in this train cart this evening, and the dark grey sky seemed to match his mood just as the lack of the train’s usual noisy chatter from the public seemed to match the dead silence in his inbox.

He checked his phone again, where several messages still sat, bereft and unanswered.

4:05pm

Me: Pipsqueak, can I come to Linkon this weekend to visit ya?

4:15pm

Me: We can go to the old markets you love tomorrow and pick up some dinner ingredients on the way home. I’ll make your favourite :)

5:10pm

Me: Are you off work? Be safe on your way home. 

5:31pm

Me: Hellooo? 🤨 Earth to pipsqueak..

5:32pm

Me: There’s no way an addict like you has lost her phone. What’s up?

5:35pm

Me: Is something wrong? I tried calling you. Call me back, I’m starting to get worried.

The messages continued until 7pm, at which point Caleb had just decided to get on the bullet train and head straight to Linkon, continuing all the while to text and call you. With every missed call and message left unanswered, the suffocating feeling in his chest continued to grow, his fingers fiddling as he stared at his phone, willing a message of… literally anything. A full stop would do at this point.

Another minute changed on the time, mocking him.

7:46pm

Me: I’m on my way to Linkon now. Call me.  

His thumb scratched the furrow between his brows. Sure, your relationship had been… less than perfect since you the two of you reunited, but you always answered his messages, even when you were angry with him. This radio silence was agonizing. Flitters of panic seized his lungs as long minutes continued to tick by.

He forced himself to take a breath. You were most likely fine. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had just lost track of time while hanging out with your friends, or if you were currently collapsed in your bed after a hard work day, not bothering with either dinner or a shower. You were fine. You were fine.

He took another deep breath. His hand flexed.

Should he just put a tracker on you?

…

Caleb’s strides sounded a lot more relaxed than he felt as he made his way to your apartment door, casually rapping on the door in his usual rhythm.

Silence.

His jaw tightened as he knocked again. And again.

Fuck, this shit isn’t funny.

He picked the lock and entered, greeted by more of that damned silence along with the dark living space. You were nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t until he heard a small noise coming from the bedroom that his chest loosened slightly. He made his way there, pushing open the slightly ajar door.

You were in your room, dusting your shelves when you heard your name in that familiar, steady voice.

Your head snapped to the doorway, where he was leaning, arms folded across his chest. His hair appeared slightly messy, as if he had been running his hand through it, and his deep purple eyes held an intense glow you almost felt compelled to look away from.

You took out the one earbud you had playing classical music and frowned.

“Caleb, what are you doing here? You can’t just enter someone’s apartment like that.”

As soon as he had seen your face, the tightness in your jaw and your tired eyes, Caleb had recognised that something was wrong, but your harsh tone confirmed it.

That, and your death glare that would have anyone else shaking like a leaf.

But he only felt relief that you were okay, at least physically. He knew you well enough to know that glare was only a surface-level protection, like a cat arching its back with its hair standing on end in attempt to make itself look bigger.

But beneath that he knew something was wrong. Even when you tried to be strong, you always appeared so vulnerable to him.

“You weren’t answering my texts or calls, I was worried,” he kept his tone soft and soothing, but you were having none of it, your frown deepening fiercely.

“Do you seriously think that’s enough of a reason to just show up here and barge into my home without permission? What is wrong with you?” you were snapping at him, hissing at him, looking so, so pained and exhausted to him.

This was different to the petty fights you had occasionally been instigating with him since you reunited. At those times, he could tell you were just struggling to find a place for him in your life again. You wanted him close, but he had also hurt you. Perhaps your instincts were telling you he wasn’t what was good for you.

He didn’t mind when you snapped at him, recognising you were desperately trying to regain some semblance of foothold in your strange relationship neither of you could really put a label to anymore, so he rarely commented on it or argued back.

But this was different. You just looked exhausted, filled with a tension that didn’t allow you to rest.

Your head hurt.

It hurt, but it wasn’t a physical pain any amount of paracetamol could fix.

You didn’t understand. You rarely felt like this, so when you felt the lowness creeping in throughout the week, you figured it was manageable. Nothing a good meal and some rounds on the claw machines at your favourite arcade wouldn’t fix.

But now, you didn’t even feel like leaving the house.

Maybe it was harder for you to handle precisely because you rarely felt this this. You were at a loss. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you also didn’t know how to fix it.

And your head continued to throb, anxiety clouding your mind, only heightened when you started to worry that you would never be able to stop feeling this way.

Why had this happened? These pressures you couldn’t even name kept piling up. You were on the verge of tears from thinking and thinking and thinking some more, and yet unable to come to any solutions. You just wanted to stop thinking, for your mind to be quiet once more.

You wanted to scream into your pillow to drown out the noise in your mind. Scream until you faded into particles, peacefully floating around. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel this awful disquiet.

You cracked a half-smile. Were you reverting to your angsty teen years or what?

You sighed and dropped the cloth you were dusting with, muttering as you walked past Caleb toward the bathroom.

“Whatever, I’m having a shower. I don’t think I need to tell you to make yourself at home considering you’re already acting like this is your home.”

He stayed silent, watching you disappear into the bathroom and hearing the shower turn on.

Looking around, he decided to clean up a bit and make you dinner. Your apartment was as messy as ever, and after peering into the fridge and taking note of the minimal ingredients, he made a mental reminder to go out the next day to buy your groceries. You were always telling him not to worry and to stop treating you like a kid, but how could he when this is how you took care of yourself?

He sighed and grabbed some ingredients from your freezer to make you a simple hotpot, perfect for the rainy day.

However, when the hotpot was bubbling and ready, and you still had not emerged from the shower, his concern grew once more.

In your room again, he could hear the shower still running. He waited ten more minutes before deciding to knock on the door just in case you had… he didn’t know, drowned yourself in the shower, maybe?

His overprotective imagination knew no bounds when it came to your safety.

You didn’t respond so, despite your earlier scolding, he decided to enter the bathroom.

His heart dipped.

Through the condensation clouding the glass shower door, he could barely see your small figure, curled up in a ball in the middle of the shower. You held your head as the water pounded onto your back.

You didn’t see or hear him, focused on having the scalding water pummel you so you had no room to think. You didn’t want a relaxing, soothing shower, but one that would silence your mind because you couldn’t do it yourself.

He went to you, unable to do anything else. He couldn’t stand to see you like that. You looked so lonely and lost. He wanted to be your anchor. As many times as it took, even if it took forever.

You didn’t notice him even when walked further inside the bathroom, quietly grabbing a towel and opening the shower door.

You only looked up through wet, blurry eyes when he reached in to switch the shower off, wincing at the searing hot water.

“Staying in a hot shower for so long isn’t good for you,” he murmured, not an ounce of scolding in his voice. He stood tall above you, wearing a loose white tank tucked into faded jeans, white socks on his feet and his silver dog tag gleaming as if reminding you of something.

What? That he would always come home? That he would always be there?

You didn’t say anything, your wet hair sticking to you as he held out a hand to help you up before holding the towel open and looking to the side, considerate of your nudity.

You walked straight into the warm, fluffy towel, and he immediately wrapped it around you, holding you steady.

Still seeing you were dizzy from the hot shower and steam, Caleb picked you up, bridal carrying you into the cooler air of your bedroom.

There was no room for anger in you anymore, only pure exhaustion. Though you expected you wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight, just as you hadn’t been for the previous few nights.

You sighed and rested your head on Caleb’s shoulder, tucking your hands to your chest and quietly enjoying the little comforts such as the familiar rhythm of his confident yet relaxed stride. He gently deposited you on the bed before making his way to your closet to find sleepwear for you.

You remained lying down, head turned to the side as you blearily watched his figure.

He returned with an oversized shirt that could well have been his, and a pair of comfortable underwear, leaving to the bathroom while you dried and changed.

He returned with your hairbrush and dryer, gently helping you sit on the floor next to the bed so he could sit on the bed and dry your hair.

It was a routine the both of you were very familiar with, and for the first time in days you felt a tiny semblance of yourself returning.

Since you had reunited with Caleb, you had become reluctant to rely on him as had become second nature to you growing up. As for Caleb’s second nature, it was taking care of you as well as everything you yourself should be taking care of.

So having you finally rely on him for something again, even as small as drying your hair, sparked a new light of hope and affection within him.

The only sound in the room was the comforting whir and hum of the hairdryer, sending waves of warmth to your head and skin. His legs remained comfortingly on either side of you, and you rested against one, hands fidgeting in your lap.

After a while, he switched the hairdryer off and used the towel to gently dry the water in your ears. He smoothed your hair up into a loose bun before helping you up onto the bed once again.

You immediately burrowed into your pillows, kicking the blankets over yourself.

He sat beside you, stroking your hair.

“I made food, do you want to eat?”

You shook your head. “I just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered. You sensed he was about to get up and quickly grabbed his hand.

“Caleb,” you croaked. “Don’t go.”

What anyone else may have been annoyed with, or held against you, he never did, taking your quick-changing attitude in stride.

He smiled lightly and tightened his hold on your hand for a brief moment. “Don’t worry, pipsqueak, I’m just turning the lights off.”

He returned to the bed once the room had darkened, only the glittering city lights outside providing small light grids around the room.

You both lay under the covers, facing each other. His arm loosely wrapped around your waist, your hands tucked against your chest.

He stroked your waist soothingly and started, “I… know I am the reason for your stress and sadness and-”

You immediately shook your head and buried tighter to his chest, speaking muffled into his shirt.

“No. I mean, yes, but not this… usually I’m fine, but just the past few days I’ve been feeling… I don’t know… and I don’t know why, either. I just want my brain to be quiet.” You were so tired, and it reflected in your hoarse, forlorn voice. You were desperate for some peace, were helpless against this thing that had gripped and trapped you. You felt blocked from any good emotions, wanting to recover them but unable to feel them as you usually could.

You held your head. “It’s so noisy,” your voice cracked, broken. Tears stung your eyes, running down your temples as you peered up at him.

Hold me tighter, and his strong arms immediately squeezed you.

His chest tightened painfully. He wanted to protect you from everything, but how could he solve what you were feeling?

“Can you… stay the weekend?” you murmured.

His lips brushed your forehead. “Of course. I won’t go back to Skyhaven until you feel okay.”

He wanted you to need him, to rely on him, but not like this. He detested this invisible cause of your pain. Hated that he couldn’t see it and feel it in his hands as he rid you of it so you could return to your bouncy self. He would take any arguing over this, would rather be Caleb-the-Loathsome so long as you didn’t lose the spark in your eyes.

Your eyes were already dipping when he spoke again, with a quiet conviction you somehow caught between dreams and reality, his breaths comforting against your hair.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he murmured. “Relax and let go for as long as you need.” You felt the whisper of a light kiss press to your head.

“I have you, always.”

You drifted to sleep.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

PLEASE, PLEASE, DON’T TOUCH ME WITH YOUR DIRTY HANDS ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; from the corner of a dim-lit host club, you catch the gaze of a handsome monk.

word count; 12k

contents; suguru geto/m!reader, cult leader!geto x host!reader (<- non-sorcerer), reader is described as considerably smaller than geto, the host club culture in this fic is kind of butchered / twisted to suit my own agenda i’m sorry :’3, friends with benefits, bittersweet hurt/comfort (emphasis on hurt), angst, open ended, very suggestive (constant sexual tension; vague dirty talk; very light nipple play; sex is alluded to and briefly shown both in passing and in present, though the descriptions are vague and no explicit terms are used. basically: sexuality and eroticism are present all throughout the fic, but actual smut is evaded.) reader has implied mental health + self-image issues, geto is in denial and repressed and kind of mean, you both refuse to admit what you really want and suffer more for it. heavy satosugu implications + switching povs. unrequited love (but not really.)

a/n; this is the closest any of u are getting to smut. from ari... this fic is not at all typical of me (both with the suggestive /borderline explicit tone, m!reader and a part of geto’s character i don’t often focus on) but still very much up my own alley of tastes and queer longing; i feel like i was born to write this fic …. in a way. and i’m proud of myself for finishing it!! hopefully it’ll make your heart ache in the most pleasant of ways <3 dedicating it to my lonely soulcrushed gays i hope you look at the sea tomorrow without wishing you could wade right in

spit it out, darling /

quietly exposing a double-layered facade /

so, that’s the kind of person you are.

everything you see before you — belongs to you alone.

golden lights, dim flickers of neon, an elysian field of artificial luminescense. music that thrums under your skin, beats along with your heart, crawls up your windpipe with erratic thump, thumps that have the hair on your nape standing on end. there's alcohol in your system, tobacco clouding your mind, a giddy smile on your face. bright lights, loud music, men's voices clouded in deceit. yes, all of this is yours.

every nerve in your skull dances along to the devil's waltz you're in. excitement, lust, pure adrenaline. sweet, so sweet, you could lap it up from the floor.

"why don't you sing us a song, sweetheart?"

you're tipsier than you should be, when you're still on the clock. you can barely recognize the voice, barely tell if it comes from the handsome bartender or your boss or one of the regulars — it doesn't matter, either. your lips grow into a grin.

"sure, sure."

it's a fever dream, a haze, stumbling up to the stage with blood pumping in your chest. your skin feels hot and cold at once, but it's a good feeling, fuzzy, your head stuffed full of cotton. bliss. your hair is tousled, your tie undone, adam's apple bobbing as you grab onto the mic — as your bleary eyes grow focused on the video screen up above. you feel like a beautiful mess, but your vocal cords remain intact.

the music stops, comes to a halt, changes tune. someone shuffled the playlist and now another song is playing. familiar, a heavy baseline, and —

you start to sing. it comes to you naturally, you scarcely need to look at the lyrics.

golden lights, grinning men, your own voice in your frazzled ears. it comes out with a rasp, quickly peeled away, stripped, silky vowels sifting from the base of your throat. you've yet to lose your touch, a sound so beautiful it stops belonging to you the moment it's left your lips. the world looks mesmerizing, when it's confined to a raunchy indoor sunset; your world. center stage, all eyes on you, greedy, lapping at your exposed skin, the smudges of lipstick on your neck. shining under dusty starlight.

everything feels so possible, from here.

this is — vaguely, partially, at the very least in spirit — why you do this. not for the back-alley rendezvous, rough hands pulling at your flesh, the blooming of hydrangeas on your injured skin. not for the alcohol, or the money. actually, you're lying to yourself, it's all of that combined — but this is where your heart lies.

this is where you spit it out for all to see.

their gazes feel good, on your neck, your chest, your waist and your hands. the attention is fuel. you feel like a spectacle, like someone else entirely, shedding skin, just for a couple minutes. you meet their stares, you're sure you're smiling, gleaming through the fog of it all. the chorus melts on your tongue, as your eyes glide through the lounge. all-seeing.

in the corner of the room, a lone shadow flickers.

(and the beating of your heart halts at a pitfall.)

you sing, despite the interruption. meeting the golden, shimmering gaze, catching his eye. the man is seated at a lone table, no host to entertain him. it's hard to see, from here, with the lights and the haze and the whiskey in your veins, but you can make out his figure — wide, clad in heavy garments — just the barest contours of his face. handsome, though, you can tell, can see it in his gaze and the way he's sitting, comfortable and poised. elegant. a beautiful, beautiful jawline.

lowlidded eyes staring deeply into yours.

the song continues, lyrics rolling off your breath, perfectly timed with your overlapping gazes. for just a moment, something sinks its jaws into you.

darling, vague complaints and fridays

this sickness makes me want nothing more than to hurt you.

you think you catch the hint of a smile, on that shadowed face. the lonesome man raises his glass, brings it to his lips. you hope he’s drinking you in just the same, gulping you down, devouring you.

the moment splits in half. another gaze, another man. you're content, to perform for as long as your lungs will allow — until you hear the first clap of hands after a job well done. when it comes, you can only pant into the mic, savour the strain on your throat. the room is spinning. you think you need to sit down, for a while. everything feels like a blur.

"aghh, my shoulder is killing me…"

slim, pretty hands pass you a glass of water, cool against your heated fingertips. you accept it, swirl it around for a moment, just to hear the satisfying clink of ice cubes colliding. slumped against the headrest of a leather sofa, maroon, blinking sluggishly as if to rouse your mind into a working state.

"shouldn't have tuckered yourself out so early. the night is still young."

"i know, i know," you hiss, digging the heel of your palm into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. it stings, like someone pressed the butt of a cigarette against your naked skin. when you tilt your head back, a thank you on your tongue, the host is already gone, off to entertain a guest. you're pretty sure someone just asked for a champagne bottle to pop. ah, the noise is bound to grate you…

a raspy sigh pushes past your lips, as you empty the glass with one big gulp.

"what a beautiful voice you have."

a different voice. not one of the hosts. when you look up, still keeping the rim of the glass against your lips — you see a sliver of gold.

for a moment, you wonder if it's…

— nope. it's a tooth.

a big, bulky man, clad in a sleazy red suit, lips curled into a similar grin. your eyes glide across his features, tallying the damage; blonde hair, fat biceps, chest hair exposed… a big nose, that's not bad. the gold tooth is certainly a choice. you wonder if he's going for dirty rich, or classy poor. you're half tempted to ask what bank he co-owns with his father.

instead, you smile.

"ah, you flatter me." the glass clinks when you put it down, scooting over to make space, not-so-subtly. you tilt your head, angle your body until you feel the fabric of your undone blouse start to slip down your shoulder. his eyes drink it in, a moth to a flame. "are you here to spend time with me, mister…?”

a part of you wants to laugh, at how successful the pure, youthful flower schtick is to men like him. it's how you make money, though — you lie successfully.

and he takes the bait. "i think i just might be, yes,” he plops down next to you, legs comfortably spread — his elbows finding purchase on the headrest.

"i'll have to make it worth your while, then, won't i?"

a rumbling chuckle. the man fishes a cigar from out of his pocket, hands you the lighter and waits. you need no instruction, leaning forward, flicking your fingers against it until the bottom catches ablaze. he puts it in his mouth, fat and thick, the scent almost overpowering. you've built up a resistance, but you still need a moment to exhale, withholding a cough. maybe that would appeal to him, though…

he keeps it between his lips, exhales through his nose before pulling away to speak. "well, i pay good money for your company. i'd say it's only fair."

a breathy chuckle. "that's true…"

there's a hunger to the way he looks at you. a kind of gaze you've learned to associate with filth, desire. he's still smiling, too wide, that golden tooth gleaming in between the yellowish-whites. smells of gin, underneath the tobacco, and something else. vodka? it's hard to tell. his size advantage is stark, when you're thigh to thigh like this — he looks like he could snap you like a twig. looks like he’d want to. one of his hands slithers around your hip, suddenly, squeezes the flesh and lingers just to feel you shudder. his grin widens when you can't withhold it.

(… ough, you lament. one of the brutes.)

with a muttered sigh, underneath your breath, your lips drag themselves up — it's voluntary, takes effort to push back the urge to run from his grip. a perfect smile, sweet and coy, still leaving much to the imagination. a hint of mystery, intrigue —

a glint in your eye.

no room for mistakes. your shoulder still aches, but it's bearable. you’re just about to part your lips, cozy up to him, say a pair of sultry, well-picked words, when —

”may i have him, for a moment?”

a smooth voice cuts in through the fog.

deep, velvety tones, rubbing against your ear drums. sweet and saccharine, honey dripping down your chin; it sends a shiver down your spine, heat to the back of your neck. he blooms in your mind before you even tilt your head to meet his dark gaze, sharp and low-lidded. you can picture him before you even see him. voices carry weight, they always do, but his is special. you haven't heard anything quite like it.

wine and tequila. oil and water.

two voices speaking, all at once.

a tall man is standing just before you, hands tucked into the long sleeves of his haori, gazing down at your touchy customer. it’s the strange, shadowy figure from before. up close, he looks more like a monk; a gojogesa wrapped around his abdomen.

you were right, of course.

he is handsome. 

with greed, you etch his features into your mind, lap it up. a sharp jaw, nose, well-defined cheekbones… obsidian eyes, with flecks of tinted gold, though you can hardly see them under these dim lights, with their narrow shape. pretty, pretty monolids, crescent moons. his hair is the real kicker, though, silky locks that flow down his back and shoulders, stop around his waist. looks like it’s been pampered, oiled and brushed, how lovely. one of his hands slip out, to dust off his sleeve, and fuuuck, they're —

— a grumble resounds to your left.  

”i have him for the next hour. you can piss off,” spits the wild boar next to you, abandoning your hip to curl possessively around your neck. and uh oh, that doesn’t feel too nice. would he get hissier if you pulled away? ”fuckin’ monk.”

catching tells is a skill that takes honing. observing, attention to detail, a reward for one’s attentiveness. you like to think you’re good, very good —

though you only barely catch the twitch of the monk’s left brow. the way his eyes coil into slits.

a hum buzzes in his throat. 

then he’s leaning forward, one big, beautiful hand coming to rest on your customer's shoulder, like he’s using him as a step stool. bending forward to look you in the eye. two abysses, gazing into you.

swirling gleefully.

his lips curl up into a sly smile. ”i’ll pay you double,” he whispers, for only you to hear. ”what do you say?”

for a moment, your breath stills in the back of your throat. that same halting of your heartbeat as before, enraptured by his gaze, hook line and sinker. because he’s close, you can nearly feel his body heat, almost pick up on his scent, warm and rich.

(and, well —)

”… sounds good.”

he rewards you with a smile. crescent-eyed.

”wonderful.”

(you’ve always been weak to a pretty face.)

the man on your left grows silent. stunned, you think, and — oops, he looks pissed. a booming voice spills out, the smoke from his cigar still fattening the air with toxins, making your eyes water. ”hah? that’s not how this works, you gold digging —”

”leave.”

a flick of his wrist. his robes sway, with the motion, like a curtain being drawn shut. the gesture itself is a command; elegant, there's no need for shouting. the way his voice drops says enough, exudes casual dominance, ripe as golden fruit on heavy branches.

a shiver, a phantom hand counting the vertebrae on your spine.

and, naturally — what you expect is a brawl. a very angry customer, one very injured customer, none of them a blessing upon your paycheck this month. casual dominance is sexy, sure, but not much else — it won't save you from a fist kissing your teeth. and, well, just going by the size of their arms alone —

… the man on your left stands up.

and leaves.

you watch, blinking owlishly as he heads for the exit, steps measured — controlled — as if guided by a puppet string. the thought makes your shoulder itch. the bell rings out, across the lounge, a pleasant chime. he's gone, he actually left. just like that.

one moment of silence, and then a breathy exhale.

"i hope you don't mind," comes a tender voice, softening, woven with silk. "but you seemed a little… uncomfortable."

the stranger takes the now empty seat, but keeps his distance, hands still tucked comfortably inside his sleeves. robes fluttering with the movement, spilling across the leather cushions and draping down to the floor. they look expensive, well made, not cheap cosplay or an elaborate joke — is he actually a monk? at a host club? sounds like the headline for a trashy porno. black hair frames his face, a single silky bang, and you can't even really call it odd because everything about him is already so out of place.

your mind spins with questions. but he's handsome, and he chased away what you're sure was the beginning of a really bad night —

a smile slips onto your lips, cheshire-esque. your eyes crinkled at the edges as you breathe out a chuckle. "no, not at all," you purr. "thank you, kind stranger."

smoothly, you cozy up to him, your thigh ghosting his own, hand about to curl around his bicep — just to feel his build, from under all those layers. he doesn't let you. doesn't say a word, but his brow twitches, a silent tell to back off.

so you do.

(maybe he's one of the look, don't touch types? some kind of power fantasy?)

you don't mind. smile still sweet, your expression doesn't falter. it's fine, this distance is tantalizing in its own right. like he's a painting on the wall, or a holy sculpture — something you'd get in trouble just for smudging with your fingerprint.

the handsome monk remains silent. watches as you fix your blouse, absently, it's in your nature to adjust to the whims of whoever you're servicing. a few buttons are undone, the fabric only covers one of your shoulders. exudes anything but elegance. your fingers curl around the fabric, ready to fish it back up.

that's when he speaks.

"do i not strike you as the promiscuous type?"

it's half a question, half a jest. there's a gleam in his eye when you meet it, something like a silverfish in a pool of dark water. an amused smile on his lips. his voice is light, and you can't help but mirror his expression — something slightly devilish.

"oh, are you?" you grin, tongue swiping against the back of your teeth, tasting the faded cocktails, a spark of syrupy flavours. "i'll leave it as is, then."

your fingers part with the soft linen, reaching instead for the empty glass on the table. putting it to your lips, sipping up what little has melted off the ice cubes, excess. then the clink, and you're turning towards him, smiling with a tilt of your head.

"what would you like to order, handsome?"

a quirk of his brow. "saké," comes his answer, flat.

"classy."

"is it, now?" he doesn't seem impressed. gazing at you with something familiar, but you can't pinpoint it. even though it's right at the tip of your tongue.

no matter, no matter. the sensations of this world have already tainted what remains of your common sense. "and can i get a name, with that order?" you ask, instead, raising yourself up into a standing position; ready to go grab his drink.

"geto," is all he says. smiling, but it's surface level; almost mocking. "just geto."

夏油. summer oil.

you think of autumn, bleeding sunsets. bottles of whiskey poured into a boy's waiting mouth.

(suddenly, you feel like weeping.)

"that'll do, that’ll do.” you give him a wink, before heading for the bar. before you know it, you're pouring the saké into his cup, the scent of fermented rice soothing the sting of tobacco still biting at the back of your throat. old and expensive, your nose picking up a roasted fragrance, fruity undertones.

geto didn't seem intimidated, by the price. you suppose he wasn't joking when he said he'd pay you double.

"how is it?" you ask, maintaining a distance while watching him drink. his eyes are closed, in what you hope is contentment, lips cupping the rim as he sips.

"… good," he hums, appreciatively, swirling the cup in a controlled motion, a gentle vortex. "no, not bad at all. i suppose money really does pay for service…"

another sip. your gaze drinks in his hands, practically dwarfing the cup, thick fingers keeping it safe and steady. would he hold your hips, like that? make sure you stay afloat? or would he drop you to the floor and watch you shatter…?

"are you really a monk, geto-kun?"

"san," he corrects, a cut of his tongue. he's smiling, though. it's hard to tell if he's genuinely bothered by the prefix. "and yes, i am. does that surprise you?"

"a little," you admit, pouring the beverage into your own cup. you watch it fill, swirl around and shimmer, letting out a humoured breath. "i mean, it's not often i get to service a holy man…"

a low noise, almost a snort. eyes of burning cedar flit to your face.

"mm, i see. your usual customers are more of the barbarish kind, are they?" he leans back, keeping eye contact, voice like the weights of a scale, judging. he tuts, quietly, a click of his tongue. "that's not good, you know. men like that don't know how to treat what's fragile."

"fragile?" you laugh, can't help it, teeth gleaming under dim lights.

"yes."

teasing words die on your tongue. something like, maybe i can take more than you think? but no, it's gone, sputtered out somewhere between your gums. because geto says it like he's talking about the weather.

like it's not a challenge; like there’s nothing to prove.

like it's fact.

(you're fragile. you'd break under pressure.)

"… if you say so. anyhow…" you lean forward, a pang of heat flashing against your nape when you catch his lips twitching upwards. "what temple?"

geto breathes out a chuckle, sweet saké on his tongue. "why?" he asks, raising a brow, hand coming to rest against your skin. you remain still, as he drags a thumb against the smudge of lipstick right below your throat. the sudden contact does something to you, makes you pliant, like a kitten being lifted by the scruff. "you don’t strike me as the devout kind. could it be you just want to see me hard at work?"

dark eyes crinkle with mirth — your heartbeat sputters like a firefly crushed under a boot. ah, his voice is like a balm to your ears. honeyed vowels, spinning a sticky web in your mind, just the slightest hint of a rasp underneath. it sneaks into his speech, makes him sound like a sexy dad, and you're screwed, you realize — totally and completely.

"maybe," you say, playing coy. "can't i?"

"i'm not sure how my congregation would feel," he hums, gazing down into his cup again. tapping his fingers against his knee, rhythmic, from forefinger to pinkie. "a little thing like you, hanging off my arm during a sermon…"

another hum, as if he's tasting the thought on his tongue, but you get the feeling he's mostly trying to tease you. a perfectly still smile on his lips.

"i suppose you'd make for good eye candy."

"oh, i’d be honoured to."

this time, his smile feels somewhat genuine, the golden glow of the bar lighting his eyes on fire, makes you think of his name and all its flavours. honey, whiskey, bramble berries eaten under summer shades. he grins, just barely, and your shoulder aches again. pangs of pain, sparks of pleasure. makes you want to lean right in.

makes you crave more.

you drink with him, or more like you watch his measured sips, because for once you don't want your mind completely sullied, want to remain at least slightly lucid, enough to hold a conversation without embarrassing yourself. it pays off. geto is intelligent, well-spoken, an intellectual. absolutely morbid. he stays for an hour, take it or leave it, but it feels like dusk has already bled into dawn by the time he’s gone, everything blurring together until he's all you can see. his pretty lips, the cupid's bow above it. silver tongue peeking out with every syrupy word.

when he stands up, you’re expecting him to ask you to accompany him. tempted to ask yourself. but he tells you of business he must attend to, with graceful poise, as if cutting a firm line between himself and this establishment. him and you. you know that tone, it's like a boyfriend telling you to not be clingy while he's working. a sense of overstepping.

another smile, and then he's leaving. you get the feeling that it falls as soon as his back is turned. call it a gut feeling, but liars know each other like the back of their own hand — and so-called perfect men are always wearing one mask or another.

it doesn't matter, either way. your heart still clenches pitifully, when the bell of the store sings its tune. you watch his back until it's no longer visible.

and then you exhale a sigh. left alone, with a half-full bottle of saké and a strange sensation in your bloodstream, something that pulls and tugs restlessly at the nerves of your brain. muddied, but somehow clear, the room not so blurry anymore.

you feel cold.

(the pain in your shoulder is gone, too.)

fingertips trail along plasticized polystyrene.

cup ramen, stacks of surimi sticks, and a can of beer. you eye the products in your arms, silently counting up the price. it's dark out, the lights of passing cars and the city illuminating the world beyond your local konbini; occasionally, the store's bell will ring, but otherwise it's silent. you're spent. you need this, an unhealthy midnight treat, you deserve it after all the drinks you poured last night.

this world, the real world, is different from the host club. less flashy.

depressing, really.

your feet carry you to the freezer, to eye a bundle of honeydew popsicles. you could eat one on the way back, but by then it'll have melted — you could eat it before slurping up the ramen, but that would make you feel even more like a mess. hair a mess, face a mess, bags under your eyes and a hoodie draped around you, sweatpants and sandals. you can't be bothered to perform on a day off. couldn't be bothered to put on makeup, give the cashier anything more than a vague nod on the way in.

there's no one here to see you like this. no one to see you at all. you're allowed a moment's respite.

"my, my."

…

a voice rings in your ears. you stiffen, standing by the freezer, staring at popsicles and tubs of ice cream; a shiver trailing down your spine. a familiar, familiar voice — honeyed, the slightest hint of a rasp.

and when you look up, you see them. eyes of rusted gold.

sharpened into crescents.

"what a pleasant surprise." he tilts his head, bangs gliding along his skin. "out shopping this late?"

fuck, it's him, it's actually him. of all the people —

"sure am," you exhale, smiling wearily. peering up at him through droopy eyes; fatigue clinging to your voicebank. "are you stalking me, geto-san?"

a chuckle bubbles past his lips. he's still wearing the same robes, eyes gleaming, lips curling up and exposing pure white teeth. "ah, you caught me."

you can't even tell if he's joking. but you breathe out a matching chuckle, as he steps to the side, walks towards another aisle, passing you by. your eyes follow his broad back, trailing after him — ice cream can wait for another day — until you're taking up the empty space at his side. his hand slips from out his sleeve and reaches for a wakaba brand pack of cigarettes, cream-coloured, his fingers flexing as they curl around it. a blink, your lashes fluttering, ravens taking flight from a lamppost outside.

"… you’re a smoker?"

an absent hum. "oh, yes. occasionally."

when geto walks up to the counter, you follow. still carrying your hastily chosen snacks, digging up your wallet from the pocket of your sweatpants, ripping it open with your teeth. you give him a glance while the cashier scans your items, one after the other. "isn't that, like… against buddhist values, or whatever?"

"i'm not buddhist."

beep, beep. you swipe your card, still staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

"… huh."

he clicks his tongue. "i dabble in… a religion of my own making," he adds, smiling. "one could say."

the cashier bows. you return it, gathering your products, turning on your heel to scope out the tables by the windows. not one seat occupied, that's good. you walk towards them, a hum on your tongue.

”sooo… you're a cultist?"

just a joke, to lighten the mood. geto only chuckles, doesn't answer — when you turn your head he's looking at you like you just said something funny.

it shouldn't put you ill at ease.

(you’re fascinated.)

the view from where you plop down to stretch your weary legs is soothing, familiar, twinkling stars dimmed by light pollution and cars whooshing by, blinking street lamps, a river running farther ahead; from the old train station to a faraway clearing of woods. the night sky is vast and wide, the moon hidden behind a cluster of blue clouds. a word sits on the back of your tongue and stays there, heavy like lead, you swallow it while tearing the plastic off your ramen — geto takes a seat besides you, rests his elbows on the table and watches you, chin poised against the heel of his palm. robes hanging off the small chair, meeting the floor. a puddle of ink.

a minute passes. you pour hot water into the cup, crack open the can of beer, exhale when your fingertips meet cool condensation. then you take a swig, throat bobbing gently. geto watches. waits.

"did your business go as expected?" you ask, finally, peeling back the lid of your meal as steam wafts into the air. smells of shrimp and tom yum, the noodles swimming in foam. just about done.

"it did, yes," geto responds, closing his eyes. "did i leave you wanting?"

the bell jingles. a glance in the direction of the entrance tells you it's a group of schoolgirls, out past their bedtime. anxiety swirls in your gut, gnaws at your fragile ribs, little fish nipping at strings of seaweed. they shouldn't be here this late, but what can you do? nothing but stifle it, chew at a surimi stick while breaking apart your chopsticks — the moon peeks out, briefly, paints the city blue.

and, well.

he did, but that doesn't mean he has to say it.

"you wish," you breathe in the broth, choke on a grin. "i have other customers. not nearly as handsome as you, but it'll do."

”hm… should i be flattered?"

you bring a mouthful of noodles to your lips, slurp them up with fervour. a series of beeps resound behind you, idle schoolgirl chatter having died down into hushed whispers. you can't see them, your back turned, but you could wager a guess as to what, or who, they're whispering about. it makes you chuckle through the bite, which makes geto stare at you.

a quirk of his brow, his upturned lips. he tilts his head, lazily, a wilting bud.

"it's just —" you swallow, failing to stifle a humoured breath. leaning forward, to sip at the beer can, just to feel the burn at the back of your throat. imagining yourself and him, from an outside perspective — a shady, hooded guy eating cheap ramen with a monk. "this probably looks like an intervention."

geto hums. doesn't laugh along.

"it could be."

a spark of body heat, hints of bergamot and incense. he's leaned closer, close enough that everything else feels like a shadow, you're encapsulated in his gaze, hidden by the curtains of his robes and silky hair. it sticks a pin inside your heartbeat. falls to the floor with a clatter. he's close, and he smells good, and you're sleepy.

and his voice ghosts the nape of your neck.

"do you need a cleansing, my dear?"

a deep, rumbling purr against your ear. there's the rasp, the baseline, the moment where your mind shatters on the konbini floor. it echoes, thrums under your skin, makes heat gather in your abdomen. for once, he's being serious, you know what people sound like when they want you to be theirs for the night. when you meet his eyes, it's even more clear.

deep pools of desire.

geto stands up. dusts off his robes with steady hands, gives you crescent eyes and a sly smile before turning on his heel. broth clings to your lips, the taste of beer, you've barely touched the surimi. your limbs feel tied up in knots, strung along by a puppeteer.

and you follow. 

he could be a murderer, for all you know. a serial killer. maybe he'll take you to some shady love hotel, wrap his hands around your neck, say something about sin before twisting with all his might — you think of all the threats you've heard over the years.

but he’s handsome. beautiful, like this, when you’re a little tired, a little too sloppy to act well. a mess, you must look pitiful, but he wants you. he wants you, he's fascinating, looks like an angel when the light hits just right. if it brings his hands upon you, would sinning be so bad? it's too late, you've already stood up, there's no need for a wager when the loss is just as sweet. you follow; follow him outside, to where the stars barely twinkle and crisp air cups your cheeks, follow him until your heartbeat is racing so fast you can scarcely hear his voice.

messy sheets, steady hands, golden eyes.

that’s the first time you sleep with him.

geto is… an odd guy.

a month has passed since your first meeting. a handful of nights spent under covers, or dim lights, at a host club he's become something of a regular at — though it never takes him long to bring you to a different, emptier bar. he waltzes in with his fancy robes, pays no mind to any of the other hosts — you know they're jealous, too bad for them — and calls you over. doesn't even need to speak, the moment your eyes meet his you're already walking his way. he pays well, buys expensive bottles of saké, brings you with him when he's gotten bored of sneering at the other guests. it’s always just a matter of time.

everything about him spells disaster — spells out something like poisonous berries, or rotten cadavers on an open fire when you’re on the verge of starving.

something a little too good to be true.

he's good in bed, for example. very good. if the monk shtick wasn't already so ridiculously out of place, you're sure it would have shocked you even more — how he knows exactly what to do, where to touch, how to explore the crevices of your body like a lock skillfully broken into, solved, elegant twitches of metal before the door knob loosens. geto is weird, probably a cult leader, but god, is he good at sex.

it's been a while since you felt so truly satiated. every part of your body tended to, filled, ruined and stitched back together again; your mind successfully turned off, painted blank, only blissful clouds and cotton left in your skull by the time he's done. when he steps into the dim-lit lounge, you know you'll be sleeping well into the morning. you know you'll get to see the way his biceps flex and twitch, the tattoos on his back and shoulder, paintings of ink, red flowers and white dragons — that you'll get to feel his weight and see into his brown eyes and paw at his chest, plush and fat, gape at the thick set of scars carving an x inbetween them. the body is a temple. you've never truly understood that, not until now.

not until him.

and it's silly. stupid, naive; it's never good to get a crush on someone who's made what he wants from you abundantly clear. your little arrangement is set in stone — no will he won’t he, no second guessing.

but no one has ever treated your messed up body with that kind of reverence.

so, forgive you for having a bit of a crush on the weird, perverted monk guy. forgive you for being deliriously predictable and easy. for being a little enamored by the way he keeps his distance, how your wants fit together so perfectly — bodies pressed together, minds lodged apart. no strings attached, only sweat and sex and chemicals making a mess of your muddled brain. he wants nothing more, you want nothing less. he pays no mind to the pills on your nightstand, you don't ask about the scar.

it's a silent give and take. he's handsome, takes only a little more than he's given every time. you've found you don't really mind. he's not insatiable, just greedy.

and, well. you've always been eager to excel.

(always the type to get caught up in a backdraft.)

"goddd, that fucking shift…"

a wince twists your throat, spills out when you crane your neck and stretch your limbs above your head — waiting for a crack that never comes. try as you may to get the knots out of your joints, the ache remains — your nerves frazzled, wrists bruised from one too many rough grips, fatigue sticking to your bones. geto sits on a couch in the corner, watches as you slump onto the bed, limbs like dead weights.

"… i need a raise."

a breathy chuckle. "do you, now?" he asks, a glint in his eyes like the cityscape outside. this view isn't bad, your hotel room a few stories high, overlooking the empty streets. ”and here i thought my tips would be more than enough to keep you afloat…"

"well, afloat…" you murmur, shutting your eyes for a moment — voice carried by a sleepy rasp. "i'm afloat. but don't i deserve more than that?"

"do you?"

you can practically hear his smile. he loves that, answering a question with another question. you think it's insufferable, and somehow still enough to have heat twisting in your gut. "i do," you groan. "believe me, i do."

geto hums, absentminded. you can hear the turning of paper-thin pages, a newspaper left for guests to flip through. with a sigh, you raise yourself up on your elbows. "and god, that dick… i swear he tried to throw me under the bus today.”

flip, flip. "who?"

"you've seen him… you know, the tacky guy?" weary limbs move across silken sheets, help you into a sitting position, so you can gaze at him properly. black hair, firm facial lines, big, beautiful hands. that's your geto. "cheap dye, piercings? looks like he's got a rich daddy?"

"what kind?"

his wry response pulls a chuckle out your lips. "both, probably." you mutter. "ungrateful little shit…"

finally, geto lifts his gaze. pools of amber, sloshing summer oil, burns on your hands and neck. he meets your eyes with a calm glint in his own, setting the newspaper back on the table in front of him.

"i don't know who you mean," he smiles, and you think he must be lying, trying to avoid work talk — either that, or he really does only pay attention to you. the thought is sweet, intoxicating, too good to be true. ”but i take it he's giving you a hard time?"

a scoff.

"understatement of the century…"

slowly, he uncrosses his legs; lets his sandals meet the carpented floor, and stands up to his full height, before walking over to your place of rest. you watch him, lazily, eyes never parting from the swooshing of his heavy robes, the way that he moves, like he's following a path carved just for him. you've met men who take up space, who do it like it's easy, like it’s their birth right — this is different. his steps are not heavy, loud, nor flashy. he moves quietly, like a serpent, a mesmerizing slithering across the floor. geto stops in front of you, and tilts his head; slips a smile onto his lips. crescented, a half-moon.

”would you like me to take care of him for you?”

(it lights up his expression.)

”… take care?” you echo, blinking sluggishly. ”what, you gonna kill him?”

”would you like me to?”

…

a hum. you stare off into space, for a moment; feeling his gaze weigh you down and split you apart, he doesn't need his hands for that. it's a tantalizing proposition — you can't tell if he's joking, but you know he likes it best that way. you also know your job would be a whole lot easier without a little brat messing up your monthly quota. ”kind of.” it slips from out your lips, a deadpan reply.

and a chuckle rumbles in his throat.

"he really is bothering you." his smile splits itself further, white teeth showing for a second before he laps over them with his tongue. "i suppose i'd be doing you a favour."

you snort, raising a practiced brow, meeting his gaze head on. "what, did you think i was exaggerating? lying? i'd never."

”of course you wouldn’t.” he exhales, a husk to his breath — amusement buzzing behind closed lips. "there'd be no need. you're easy to read, after all."

(ouch.)

the comment has you wanting to laugh, call him a dick, roll your eyes in a show of discontentment. what a callous thing to say to such a dedicated actor.

then again, you haven't been doing a very good job of it, recently.

to geto, you must be nothing more than a fruit wanting to be peeled. he undoes your layers with ease, and it's humiliating — irritating — has warmth blooming under your bones. grime doesn't dissuade his appetite, after all. there's no real need for acting. not when he looks at you just the same regardless. not when you're fairly sure he wouldn't so much as stir, even if you killed someone in front of him; he'd listen to your reasons, your motives, not saying a thing. he'd look into your eyes without flinching.

geto probably knows how empty you are. you don't think he minds; think he might even prefer it. you think you could tell him anything, but you won't.

(you have some pride, after all.)

”i think you’re the only one who can see through me at all," you admit, words coming out softer than you meant them to. a slip of the tongue.

for a moment, you regret your words. avoiding his gaze, though you feel it searing into your skin, the tip of a cigarette burning tender flesh. the hotel room is quiet, the cityscape glitters and gleams, sways softly in a dark night, a shattered mirror world. geto hums.

”keep it that way.”

his voice drops, an edge to it — a jolt down your heartbeat. there it is, the edge of a kitchen knife making itself known. the words make your throat run dry, a few seconds where you can only feel the air leave your lungs, enter, leave again. but you plaster a smile onto your lips and meet his eyes. perhaps a little too cheery to be convincing. ”… yes, sir."

you're being studied. your flesh is being cut into. soon, he'll dig into it with hands and limbs, more than just his eyes — soon, your ribs will split apart to make room for him. and his gaze carries all of this, it's like he's telling you himself. eye to eye communication. his cornea tells you there's nothing you could hide from its all-seeing gaze. you're inclined to believe that; doesn't make any it less terrifying. exhilarating.

geto seems pleased.

when he leans in, you aren’t ready. a stutter building in your throat. close, close, now you can smell the green tea off his breath, dried leaves and boiling water, like the pools in his eyes, rising steam, his breath ghosting your lips. he's going to kiss you.

how rare.

”easy to read," he repeats, voice a quiet whisper, gravelly against your ear. "and easy to trick."

a gasp. a sharp jolt, a spark of pain burning down your spine, your chest — your mind works overtime to catch up to the sudden sensation, lost in his voice and his gaze and his warmth — he just pinched your fucking nipple. the burn blows your eyes open, parts your lips, his thumb and forefinger applying pressure through your thin shirt. it hurts, not letting up.

and geto smiles. light and easy.

”… and sensitive.”

it's a dull remark, like he's still reading from the newspaper, listing off this weekend's weather patterns. heat blooms in your gut. you feel like something small, molded just to fit his hands, waiting to be exposed and split into halves. it's humiliating, to be seen, you're not sure if you want to flee or stay right here — if just the weight of his palms make up for the sting accompanying them.

”… just for you,” you hear yourself speak. a hitch of your breath, yet you force the words out, mustering a smile — sleazy, flimsy, as long as it looks convincing it’s fine. you won't make it easy for him. not today.

but geto smiles. the corners of his eyes crinkle like ginkgo leaves, melted gold, like he knows something you don't. a slow, delighted exhale. "idle flattery won’t save you, this time.” he tuts, and twists, waiting for a jolt. ”not when it’s so obvious.”

a strangled wince claws at your lips, but you swallow it down — inhale, exhale, try to steady your breathing, try not to shiver or pull away from his cruel grip — geto watches your silent endeavors, your attempts at staying afloat. you expect him to laugh.

instead, he cups your chin. tilts it up, up, up, until you're looking into his abyssal eyes, baring your bobbing adam's apple, your vulnerable throat.

he looks admonishing.

"tsk, tsk. whatever shall i do with you?" he clicks his tongue, a chastising purr to his voice. "so careless with your body, but dishonest about what it wants. are you ashamed just to live, darling?”

an involuntary gulp. the question makes your heart constrict, a guilty twist. sends a pang of pain into your veins, a downward tug at your lips, has you falling silent.

a moment where you cannot fully hide the pain in your expression.

(shah mat.)

geto tilts his head, then, silky bangs across soft skin, a flicker of satisfaction in eyes like golden fruit. ripe for plucking. he graces you with a smile, the branches of his lips curling up, up, blooming like a grotesque flower — like he knows exactly what you're thinking. like he knows you, in and out, like he's already seen every ghost in your skull, tasted them on his tongue and taken them down his throat.

there's no scaring him off.

at last, he lets you go — takes a moment to get seated on the edge of the bed, and pats his lap. a heavy hand, a silent cue. you lick at the back of your teeth, savouring the burn his fingers leave behind.

"come here," he croons, as if taking pity on you. ”let me give you some relief.”

he doesn't have to ask you twice.

so you end up beneath him — you always do — his weight bearing down on you, big hands dwarfing your hips, heated pants and the creaks of a worn out mattress echoing in the empty hotel room. a cacophony of filthy noise, skin on skin, bone on bone, you've done it all too many times before. he's so close you wonder if you've morphed together. so close you don't know where he ends and you begin.

geto inhales, heavy, a dark look in his eyes.

"maybe i should just buy you off," he rasps, breath hot against you, sweat dripping down his brow, "keep you at my temple… always within reach."

any ability to speak has left you, at this point, any coherent method of speech. you can't say anything — not, hey, that’s a pretty fucking strange thing to say, or — you would have me entertain a bunch of monks? seriously? not even yes, yes, please, i don’t want anyone else to ever see me like this again. i don’t want to be ruined by anyone but you.

only a breathy whimper makes it past your lips. it makes him chuckle, into the hollow room.

(and he’s gone again, the morning after.)

geto would not consider himself a fickle man.

every action has a consequence. every choice must be weighed, considered, carefully plucked apart.

there is value in the act alone. weight is synonymous with heart, and geto, despite himself, cannot help but cling to his; worn out as it may be, soiled with fingerprints. there is weight behind his every action, care. choice means being human. choice means weight, which means heart, which is all he needs.

all this to say — geto suguru does not bet on losing dogs.

how he ended up in the corner of a dim-lit, shady host club is honestly beyond him. a grotesque sort of happenstance. the air smells of champagne and cologne, handsome hosts and guests chattering at every table in sight. all of them vermin.

what would his family say, if they knew what he was doing? ask if he's come down with a fever, no doubt. he can practically hear their voices — geto-sama, with a bunch of monkeys? willingly? no way. he could barely take the train to osaka last week! they'd be right, that's what grates him — that he's sitting there, and people-watching, still entirely uninterested in choosing his host for the evening. uninterested in drinking. cheery voices, sultry whispers, the popping of bottles and buzz of a karaoke machine. everything is loud, everything sparkling with the mere illusion of glamour.

disgusting. but he stays, only crinkles his nose and soothes his senses with the scent of his own robes, mellow incense. tries not to picture the walls red.

that's when he sees you.

a stumbling, giggling figure, clad in flimsy clothing, reaching for the mic. you're pretty, he can tell even at this distance. but stained, with lipstick and alcohol, a rotten smile on your face — rotten in the sense that it's so obviously hollow. it's only when you part your lips and sing that he is pulled out of his stupor, that his eyes narrow in an attempt to focus on anything else. your voice rings out, like the chime of a bell, clear and bright — the song doesn't match your vocals, doesn't do it justice. you stand on stage, a spectacle, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

(that's how it starts. the beginning of his fixation.)

geto finds himself thinking that he likes the way you look like this. sparkling, glowing, golden rays surrounding you — it creates a crescendo of light, from where he’s sitting, something like a halo, makes you look almost holy. makes him want to laugh, because that couldn't be further from the truth. you're a bug. a bug that gets paid to be of service.

pitiful, he thinks. you're pitiful. you're swaying like a drunk angel.

but your voice carries a longing he finds impossible not to indulge. to gaze at, silently, until your eyes happen to fall across his own, splatter on his brow — a flicker of light, in the middle of a too-small stage. he captures them. keeps them there.

and he swears your smile grows brighter.

(jaws snap against his ribcage. a spider weaves a web of silk.)

darling, vague complaints and fridays. he tastes the lyrics off your tongue, white noise. has already sicked the curse on you, almost on autopilot, call it morbid curiosity. it curls around your shoulder, and yet you do not falter. do not flinch. can you not feel the sting?

this sickness makes me want nothing more than to hurt you.

a smile splits his lips bloody.

everyone else has their eyes on you, follows your swaying, your shimmering skin. he wants to kill them, itches to. leering leeches. but that would surely make you stop singing, so he allows his fingers to twitch without purpose, makes no move to call on another wretched little puppet. listens to you until the song is over, until he can see the pain in your expression. does it hurt, little one? do you finally feel it?

he wonders. but he doesn't ask, even when he has you seated beside him, tipsy, shirt nearly slipping off your shoulder — he pictures your skin smudged, soiled, bite marks and bruises. it does nothing but add to his growing revulsion. his first night with you is over in the blink of an eye; a failure, on his part.

before he leaves the bar, he swipes his thumb across the back of your neck. watches the curse unclench its jaw, unlatch its decaying gums, a sickly purple against your ruined skin. leaves behind sticky saliva, droplets dribbling down your collarbone. filthy. he can scarcely remember why he came, why he stayed. to satisfy his curiosity, his mind supplies, only part-lie. to fill the gap. to see what it's like — men with men, dim-lit glamour, icecubes swirling in glasses half-empty — a useless endeavor. it's cheap, he feels nothing. no real desire. not the burning kind he used to fantasize about, tangled limbs and spit.

… not until you say that.

"you wish," he watches you breathe in the broth, choke on a grin. "i have other customers. not nearly as handsome as you, but it'll do."

he wonders why that's what makes his patience snap. bug on bug, the thought of something rotten catching you between its teeth. the knowledge that you don't mind — that you want it. filthy, pitiful, he feels sorry for your bones and your skin, at the mercy of your heart, swaying to and fro without a thought. feels sickly at the thought that it exists, that it beats.

that the same bundle of flesh slumbers beneath your ribs as his. heavy, weighty; a bleeding lump of flesh.

so he takes you to bed. out of practice, it’s been a while, but if you notice you're a better actor than he gave you credit for. he feels your heart beat against his own — yes, it's there, right there, squirming around. disgust. exhiliration. a way to pass the time.

that's what you are. what this is. he tells himself, in a soothing voice, that it means nothing; that it's not a betrayal, not if he's just using you.

not if you're just a source of warmth on nights his hands feel cold and need something to tend to.

he’s gentle, the first time you sleep together. not as much the other times, but you need it, don’t you? he can tell. you get this look in your eye. like you enjoy being along for the ride, having all thoughts pushed out of your body. it would not do, for him to leave you unsatisfied — sorcerer or not. would not do for his pride, the satisfaction he feels when you bloom in front of him, shatter and curl into yourself like a rhododendron in the precipice of summer.

what you are is a distraction.

(but you're beautiful, when he unmasks you.)

no, geto certainly is not a fickle man. he weighs his options with care; he calculates; he does not bet on losing dogs. your whines are sweet, though, your mind a lid he wants to uncap. it feels good, to be above you. to see you in your entirety, knowing the other men you sleep with don't get the opportunity, don't care to in the first place. wouldn’t want to.

you haven't been loved properly. he can tell.

"please don't go…"

words aren't necessary. your limbs, wrapped around his waist, say enough. the dew at your lashline says enough. you aren't lucid; it's the most primal part of you, clawing its way out. that says enough.

he soothes you before leaving. makes sure you're sound asleep.

you're his, he thinks, watching your poor body seek solace in silky sheets. feels it seek out his touch when he runs a hand over your hip. you're beautiful, and you're his. those other men don't know how to treat you, but he does. he knows what you need. little things like you should be treated like glass, spoiled —

then broken into splinters.

they don't understand. how could they? horny, mindless apes. he should kill them. slaughter them, for having laid a hand on what he owns. what he bought. he should wrangle their corpses for every set of handprints they've left on your delicate wrists.

he should. he will. their time will come.

one last glance, before he leaves for the compound. when you're bathed in moonlight, sick thoughts cloud his mind; when he wraps his gojogesa around heavy robes, and watches you slumber in the king-sized hotel bed. a dangerous indulgence.

it's something in the way you move. maybe he's always sensed it, maybe that's why he wanted you, the thought often eats him alive after you've slept together. something in the way you move, yes — your disposition, the way you carry yourself — like nothing could hurt you, even though it already has, the world has left its mark on you, he can see it in your eyes. try as you may to conceal it. rot knows rot.

even now, he sees it. something in the way you glow under dim lights. when all that surrounds you is gold, blinding white — he can almost delude himself into thinking that your hair is the same. strands of white, like a summer sky — pink lips and a clear voice —

it reminds him of someone.

honestly, suguru… i think you're the only one who understands me at all.

(he crushes the thought before it can shatter him.)

what you are is a distraction. he repeats it, chews it between his teeth until it tastes like nothing at all. a way to spend the time. wish-fulfillment, maybe, at best — there is no room for anything more. no room to think thoughts like if only you weren't what you are, if only you were like him — no room for second guessing or digging himself deeper into the ground.

he's already slipped deeper than he would have liked.

a shake of his head, and the thought is vapour. he scrubs the image of your sleeping body from his mind; reminds himself, dully, of what you are.

he thinks he can go on, like this. just like this.

there is no danger in the web he's weaved you.

”i wanted to be a singer.”

a gentle breeze, clouds covering the sky. you say it so casually, he’d think you were mentioning the weather if it wasn’t for the sadness in your voice.

you fail to keep it out.

bathed in salty air, clouds of smoke, facing the sea with a forlorn gaze — your elbows rest on the railing overlooking it. a cup of bitter coffee stands on the cafe table behind you, abandoned, left to cool. espresso steam blends with roasted nicotine. tobacco stings your eyes, he’s sure; would you blame your glassy eyes on that, were he to point it out? 

(oh, how he wonders.)

”is that so.”

geto lights his own cigarette. one, two flicks of his thumb before orange sparks at his fingertips — he delights in the jolt of his nervous system, the way it burns. delights in the rush of dopamine that follows, when he inhales, feels it flood his lungs and sting his windpipe on the way out. a heavy exhale, his trail of smoke mingling with your own, in the crisp and solemn morning air. he can't tell which is which.

the world is quiet, here. like you’re the only ones awake. hidden under a bleak sky, murky blue, nearly gray. he likes it better when it bursts with colour, but this is just fine. you look pretty when your eyes lack light.

geto flicks the butt of his cigarette, ash crumbling on his thumb. his voice comes out with a rasp, laced with thick smoke, but it doesn’t waver, deep and silky even still. the air smells a little like disease, but he finds he doesn’t mind it. finds he likes the contrast. polluting an air that smells too much of summer. ”well, you certainly have the vocals for it.”

you let out something like a scoff. it lingers, in your throat, drags against the walls of flesh. 

amused. 

when you turn your head to meet his gaze, eyes just slightly red, smile dipped in sardonicism — he thinks you’ve never looked more lovely. not even beneath him, satin sheets spread out like an altar of worship. 

or an altar of sacrifice. 

sweet as the bite of a ripened peach. 

”do i?” you ask, irony tinged on your tongue. wearing a flimsy smile, that seems to fade the longer he looks at it. he watches your cupid’s bow sway, the drag of an arrow. ”you’ve worn them out, you know.”

a breathy exhale. he hides it with his cigarette, takes another drag just to feel the burn at the back of his throat. he smiles, though, can’t help it. 

”… you’ll live.” and he exhales, air rushing to flood his lungs, greedy. the salt burns more than the tobacco. ”you still have time. it’s not too late to try again.”

a sudden, eerie silence.

”… i don’t know about that.”

he thinks he could love you, just like this.

"i think i might be out of time."

there's a sad, sad look in your eyes. it makes you look older than you are, more weary, like a pillar of salt left to face the sea. hair swaying in the air, gently, tousled locks and pursed lips, a painting just for him. you look tired. you look exhausted, broken down.

something about it makes him soften.

"do you feel hopeless?" he chuckles, a breathy noise, it scatters into the open air and then disappears. "you haven't seen the world. in that sense, you might as well be a child."

smoke slithers from the butt of his cigarette. everything is silent. no scoff, no click of tongues or scraping of nails against ceramic cups. nothing fake, about this moment. time is all you have, he wants to add. there's no escaping it. but he hesitates, for a moment too long, taken by the suffering in your gaze — geto wonders what you're thinking about, with such a blank expression. wonders what kind of pain you must be feeling. you look like you could shatter where you stand, just a sheet of broken glass, or a fish out of water — a lost soul, flecked with seafoam and cigarette smoke — a pretty little thing, watching the sea like you’d like to wade right in. like there is nowhere you belong, nowhere on this earth.

nowhere to seek solace.

he could love you, when you look this fragile. could allow himself a moment to taste it on his tongue, dip his toes into the first syllable. just to feel the chill.

(even just for a little while.)

you don’t bite back. neither of you speak. only the dull scraping of ocean waves fills the empty air.

”i love you.”

you are the first to step over that boundary.

it’s whispered into his neck. broken, quiet, more of a shallow breath than a sentence. so small, so quiet he thinks he must have heard you wrong. words get lost on both of you, when blood is pumping in your ears, through your veins, when skin meets skin. you’re too tired to speak properly, speak at all. he’s being hard on you tonight — couldn’t think clearly, only saw one of your other regulars try to cop a feel, and, well —

that doesn’t matter, now.

”i love you…”

— there it is, again. 

the breathiest, most silent little whimper he’s ever heard. 

(geto inhales. curses himself.

a lump forms in his throat.)

you aren’t coherent, you don’t know what you’re saying. he knows that. of course, he knows that. you’re just trying to stay afloat in whatever way you can. just babbling nonsense into his ears like it'll make him go a little easier on you, like you just want his affection —

he thinks he might throw up. 

moonlight flits in through the window blinds, illuminates his back, lotus flowers blooming where ink meets skin on his left shoulder. the dragon curls around his back, coils up in anger, disgust. curses crawling in his stomach, hot with irritation.

this was supposed to be a distraction. he was never planning to keep you, you're no human — certainly no partner. the tremors of his heart mean nothing, it's all chemical, all a masquerade. you are nothing.

once the fun has run its course, he'll kill you.

that's what he's been telling himself. he'll slaughter you, etch the sight of red blood against satin sheets into his memory, taste the excess dripping down your waist — he’ll drink it in and throw it up.

but you love him.

(you love him.)

geto wants to hate you. 

what he hates most of all is that those words disarm him. peel his skin away, leave only the flesh. he can’t help it, though he tries — a futile endeavor —

”you’re okay.”

a tender, tender, whisper, spilling from his parted lips. when did they part? when did making room for you become as natural as breathing?

”you’ll be okay.”

a weak whimper, nestled against his throat. arms go slack around him, your body peeling itself of guarded skin, allowing him to do as he pleases. so good, so pliant.

(his poor, poor boy.)

geto tastes iron, bursting hot and heavy on his tongue. sinks his teeth into his lower lip, as far as they can go, until the sting itself fades away. keeps going until you pass out, softly, silently, tenderly. kisses your neck, shushes your cries. keeps a big palm on the back of your neck the entire time. rocks you to sleep, as if it's muscle memory.

tender, he reminds himself. when someone tells you they love you, you treat them tenderly, suguru. 

(a burning, rotten memory. his mother’s voice.

he feels like dying.)

once all is said and done, he watches you slumber under blue light. dim, it casts a shadow over your features, but he can still see it clear as day; the creases on your face, the lines of your jaw and cheekbones and the way your chest rises and falls.

for once, he doesn't leave.

instead, geto tucks himself behind you, drags forgotten covers over his frame, pulls you against his warm chest, a mother to her newborn — your sniffle-like breaths safe in the boundary between his throat and sternum. he holds you, and closes his eyes. your heartbeats soften, gradually, in tune with his own, clammy skin sticking together. he wants to clean you. wants to give you a bath, scrub the stains away.

you look so very fragile.

he swallows the bile, and keeps his eyes shut. he can allow himself a moment of pretending.

(but this farce will have to end, soon.)

some days, geto doesn’t miss him at all.

some days, hues of cherry pink and bright-sky blue remind him of nothing more than fruit and summer. on even better days, fruit and summer don’t remind him of boys biting into ripe peaches, or napping in the sun, or tickling his ribs while on the back of his bike until they both tumble to the ground.

some days, geto doesn’t linger in the past. 

(most days, it’s all he does.)

you’re lying in bed, on your side, curled up with your knees against your chest. naked and unguarded, a newborn fawn. he thinks of how your legs shake after a particularly rough session. almost cracks a smile, but he's too tired, mind too tangled up in knots; he didn't sleep a wink last night. can only watch you from across the room, in silent contemplation, map your features into his mind. he feels fondness for you, like this, only like this. (especially like this.) when you’re entirely bare. a freshly plowed field, a peeled fruit, ready to be carved into halves, willing to be split. breathing very softly into sheets left dirtied.

the world has yet to wake, outside the window.

in moments like this, he indulges in the thought. not enough to suffocate, just sting. he pretends that your hair is white, like marble flooring, like specks of dust collecting light. pretends you're in another country, another life, with no weight on your shoulders. the thought tastes sweet — tastes like bramberries and sunlight and whiskey, tastes like a breakfast well-served. a life where meaning frames the world.

but that sunlight makes its way through your shut blinds, one way or another. no matter how tightly he closes them. and, in turn, your lashes flutter apart.

geto closes his eyes, and pretends he cannot see their colour. pretends that they’re blue, blue, blue, a blue so staggering it makes the sky look white.

a blue that dyes the whole world monochrome. 

(if it was him — would he be like this? sleeping soundly, satiated, nuzzled into his chest instead of a pillow? would he be as good as you? as willing to be ruined?

would he want to ruin anyone but you?)

”… geto…?”

you sound surprised. voice a broken tune, raspy and high, like splintered glass. he's bewildered that he finds it charming. that it makes him feel anything at all. you raise your hand to rub at your eyes, groaning softly, twitching like you're having trouble just to move your limbs. geto stands by the door, rests his back against the wall, and watches you. isn't sure how long he's stood there and contemplated leaving.

"… you're still here?"

hope. he can practically taste it, off your breath.

a low click of his tongue. he takes a step forward, towards your bedside, sunshine gliding across his skin, his robes. he's fully clad, no sight of scarring or tattoos, the barest of marks you left when you nipped his neck in your sleep. he won't let you see it.

and he towers above you like a scarecrow on a hayfield.

doesn't say a word. only reaches out to grasp your jaw, palm flat against your chin, trails his hand down your neck. two fingers, dragged between your fragile ribs. neither rough nor gentle. you're pliant, there's no fight in you, a lamb making itself soft for the blade of a dagger. you let him explore you, while a frown threatens to break through his pursed lips — thick brows furrowed together. you don't jolt, or yelp. you trust your body with him. silly, stupid, naive.

can't you see what he's made you into?

"... maybe i should cut your heart out," he breathes, surprised by how sincere he sounds, the shadows that covet his voice. "save us both the trouble. hm?"

that makes you scrunch your nose. eyelids too droopy, too weighty to keep themselves up, they just flutter shut again. oh, whatever shall he do with you?

"… my heart…?" a soft sigh, a noise in the back of your throat, like a cat awoken from its nap. you're mumbling, he has trouble hearing you, isn't sure if you're fully lucid or if you think this is a dream. a yawn spills past your lips. "y'can have it…"

… bare. unguarded. heart ripe for plucking.

any man could steal it. rob it from its branches. you don't seem to understand your own appeal, your true appeal; it's aggravating. your ribs are so easy to peel apart. when someone speaks softly to the confines of your heart, they just fall open, all on their own.

so very guarded, yet trusting even still. so, so eager to let the right one in.

”… you remind me of a friend.”

the words have already left his lips. it's too late, now.

sundrops splatter against your nose, the corners of your bottom lip. he could picture them crimson, camellia and spider lily, grows sick at the thought, a macabre twist of his guts, like he just swallowed something terrible. sunshine frames your expression, the way it shifts in the light, shadows passing by and painting your teeth when you speak. pink gums, pink tongue, swollen from abuse. a flicker of knowing, of remembering, when your pupils dilate; coil into slits.

"… friend?" you echo, a breathless mutter. "or boyfriend?"

geto twitches, from the tips of his fingers. still resting just where your ribcage ends.

they leave your skin, his thumb brushing gently against your navel before parting, a tender feather-like flick. you're sensitive, there; he knows your body like the back of his own hand, sees the shudder that slithers through you before he feels it.

sometimes, he wonders if you know him just as well.

silence. only quiet, quiet breaths. any answer geto could give stays clogged at the base of his throat, full peaches blocking his windpipe, keeping the words from bubbling up and erupting. fuzzy fruitskin against red flesh. he wants to taste the nectar. wants a lot of things he can never have, not in this life.

hey, suguru. peel it for me.

… huh? what's with the attitude?

"it’s complicated, huh."

geto swallows.

"… i suppose it is," he breathes, eyes straying from your own. deep cedar, bright honey, enclosed in globes of amber, finding solace in your sullied bedsheets. will you clean them? would you keep them as is, if you knew you'd never see him again?

what was he hoping for, all this time?

an exhale. you're smiling, you're sleepy, he wonders if your body is still blissed out enough to save you from the heartache. "am i the rebound?" you ask, a hint of humour, stretching your limbs out like a sleepy feline.

a sigh.

"… essentially."

the soft rustling of sheets. your skin is dyed golden, by the silent sun, illuminated against pure white. an altar, marble flooring, specks of dust and sodium light. you let out a little noise, something like a hum. as if struck over the head. a moment passes, and you still, eyelids falling shut. a chuckle breaks your silent death.

"it hurts that you’re so straightforward." sincerity always brings nothing but pain, he wants to tell you. if you'd never opened your heart to me, you wouldn't be feeling this way. if i had never held it in my palms, perhaps i wouldn't be feeling so empty. this is the price humans pay for loving so callously. "you're a pretty cruel guy. has anyone told you that?"

geto smiles. he closes his eyes, and steps away from you; voice a quiet breath of air.

"just once."

there is nothing to be done about a heart of stone.

geto turns on his heel, and does not look behind him.

he will leave. leave, and leave no trace, leave your home untouched, only purple marks smudged across your nape to prove his greed, to prove he ever sunk his claws into your tender flesh. imprints of teeth on your chest. fingerprints on your hips. marks will remain, and fade with time. soon enough, you'll forget about them. he will make his way past the second street, and think of neither you nor satoru.

he will not think of blue eyes, or summer. he will not think of your eyes, bleary with forgotten dreams, lost potential, speckled with what he knows to be love — a word so heavy he wishes he could spit on it. a word he wishes he did not revere.

he will not think of you, even as he crosses the main street with the fountain you like, glittering under a sun just about to break the world into halves. even as he watches a man play the violin by the train station, listens to the thin strings bend and bow just like your vocal chords under the dim lights of a trashy bar he’d never have gone to if it weren’t for you. he will not think of the way you glow.

he will think of nothing, and no one.

"… see you, geto."

(he thinks he’ll be okay.)

[halliejaade]

Here's a little one shot from my upcoming Joaquín Torres x Female Reader fic, Edelweiss. It's a childhood friend's to lovers fic and I am so excited to share it with you all!

Tick...

Your knee bounces rhythmically.

Once. Up. Down.

Twice. Down. Up.

You pause. Once, and then twice again. You're not sure what it is about the combination that calms you, but you've always done things in pairs. The clock in the corner ticks loudly, reminding you that in only an hour you'll have to say goodbye.

You never quite mastered that; not when your childhood dog, Lucy, passed away. Not when the blip happened and everyone you loved just... disappeared. And certainly, most definitely, you didn't think you could bear this.

Joaquín grins nervously at his mother, who smooths out the wrinkles that apparently only she can see on his tan T-shirt. You weren't sure how he was able to make the uniform look so good, but somehow he pulled it off. He ran a hand over his cropped hair, before turning to you.

"Don't look so sad, rain boots," He says, attempting a bright smile. The nickname makes you laugh somberly.

You had only been ten when you moved into the house next door to his. For whatever reason, for an entire year, no matter the occasion, you refused to wear any shoes other than your bright green rain boots. Joaquín had adopted the nickname for you after you became friends, and had never stopped calling you it.

Tick tick...

You blink owlishly, willing the tears to dry before they can spill over your lash line.

His mother glances between the two of you. "I'll just be over there for a moment."

She joins your mom at the cafe which is probably too expensive for their tastes, but is a good reason to allow the two of you this last moment together in the busy airport.

"Do you have to go?" You ask quietly, fiddling with your favorite bracelet.

He steps into your space, his boots coming toe to toe with your dirty sneakers. The sight causes a tear to finally spill down your cheek.

"I'll visit when I can, okay? I swear to you." He whispers, placing his hands on your shoulders. The look you give him after makes his heart squeeze painfully.

He hates seeing you so sad. Hates the fact that he's the reason you're crying.

"Please-" You hiccup, "Please be safe, Joaquín."

Tick tick tick...

One moment, you're standing toe to toe with him, and in the next, you're pressed close to his chest. You turn your face into his neck, his arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders.

"You remember when we were little and we always played heroes?"

You nod, before sniffling. You had never cared much about the Avengers, hadn't cared much about paying attention to things like that, but Joaquín was always so excited that you couldn't help but fall in love with the concept of the superheroes.

"I'm finally making that dream come true," He says into your hair. "I'm gonna make little me proud."

You tighten your arms around his torso. "I'll be the first to buy your figurine when you inevitably save the world some day."

He pulls back, and looks into your eyes. "I'll miss you so very much, Y/n. But I'll write to you, and I'll come home whenever I can. I'll be safe. I swear."

The prospect that he'll write you letters makes you giggle. "You remember the letters?"

He nods, his own laugh escaping his lips as he recalls how twelve year old you thought it was so romantic that soldiers sent letters home to their loved ones. "I'll do anything to make you smile."

Tick tick tick tick...

An announcement screeches over the speakers.

Joaquín frowns slightly, before letting go of you. Both his mother and yours abandon their coffees, and join you back near the gate.

"I have to go now," He says, as if the announcement didn't tell you that already.

Boom.

Another quick round of hugs goes around before Joaquín grabs his bags and leaves.

"Do you think he'll turn around?" Your mom asks.

Joaquín's mom nods, "Y/n is here. Of course he will."

As if on cue, he turns, right before he's out of sight. He waves to your mother's before his eyes land on you. He sends a wink your way, and mouths, "I'll see you before you know it, rain boots."

You only hope that he's right, and that he'll come home safe and sound.