#i wanted to say something about it and put out there

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[cerastes]

“Hear me out”s are a losing game. You are better off betting your life savings on a single game of poker. You can’t do a meaningful hear me out, it isn’t possible. The very nature of the internet is people lowkey trying to come across as “I Have Seen Fucked Up Things In My Time” experts and survivors. Anything that can threaten to put a crack in that fragile ego will immediately be shot down. “Hear me out”s aren’t regular statements, they are challenges, you are trying to come across as someone with Higher Fetish Power than others, which directly clashes with someone’s I Have Seen Fucked Up Things In My Time-fu. No one will ever admit to have a less esoteric fetish or kink than others. Not on the internet.

“Hear me out”s say something about the shooter: They too want to Have Seen More Fucked Up Things, and not only have they normalized it, they get off on it. They usually append “cowards” to the “hear me out” because it is a statement of me > you. The most annoying kind of person, in the most annoying arena, challenging you to the most annoying duel. The best counter is to shoot it down because that has no counter in this context: They already showed their hand, you can simply call it a bad hand and win.

“Hear me out”s are self-destruction. Your “hear me out” could have been a link and a “this is hot”. You willingly chose the losing battle when it would have taken less effort to not lose. “Hear me out” is not about your “hear me out” ultimately, it’s about you thinly veiled with something else. Sun Tzu warned you about this.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

i know nanami’s only 27, but i can’t help but think that he’s probably got a lot of “old man” traits that he’s acquired one way or another. maybe life made him that way, maybe he chose to act like he is in his 40s and not late 20s, but either way, having him around would be a very interesting experience to say the least because i’m pretty sure he…

he complains like a seasoned retiree. he’s got that heavy sigh, rubs his temple routine down to an art. the kind of man who mutters, “i’m too old for this,” when he’s only been awake for ten minutes. if you suggest staying out late, he just looks at you like you suggested committing a crime.

he has a very specific way of doing things. nanami doesn’t just go grocery shopping—he has a route. he knows which brands he likes, which cashier is the fastest, and he refuses to go on weekends because “that’s when the amateurs show up.” he folds his laundry a certain way, and god help you if you disrupt his system.

his idea of “treating himself” is so dad-coded. nanami doesn’t do impulse buys—when he does spend money on himself, it’s always something practical. “i finally got those orthopedic insoles” or “this is a quality briefcase; it’ll last a lifetime.” and he probably has one (1) expensive pen that he never lets anyone borrow.

he dresses like he’s ready to scold someone for stepping on his lawn. pressed slacks, polished shoes, dress shirts with the sleeves neatly rolled up. casual wear? good luck catching him in it. even his loungewear is suspiciously put-together—like, who wears an actual button-up pajama set in 2025? nanami kento, that’s who.

he drives like a dad. he never speeds, always uses his turn signal, and complains about “reckless drivers” while driving exactly the speed limit. the kind of man who refuses to start the car until everyone has their seatbelt on.

oh, and dating nanami as someone younger than him would be an experience. he already acts like he’s in his 40s, so the age gap (however small) feels so much bigger because he refuses to let loose. but deep down, he wants to—he just doesn’t know how. so to be in a relationship with him is to get used to stuff like this;

he sighs like he’s raising a teenager. if you stay up too late? heavy sigh. if you forget to bring a jacket? exasperated sigh while taking off his coat to drape over your shoulders. if you tell him about a reckless decision you made? pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs like you just told him you totaled his car. but beneath all that dramatic suffering, there’s genuine care. you might get an “honestly, do you have no sense of self-preservation?” but it’s followed by him adjusting your scarf, making sure your shoelaces are tied, and keeping a steady hand on your back when crossing the street.

he pretends to be annoyed by your energy, but secretly loves it. he acts like your enthusiasm exhausts him, but if you ever stopped being excited around him? he’d miss it desperately. when you drag him to try something new, he’ll complain the whole time (“this is a waste of money”), but afterward, he’ll admit—very quietly—that it wasn’t that bad. he likes how you remind him to enjoy life in ways he never lets himself. he’ll never jump in recklessly, but if you say, “just trust me,” he’ll hesitate… then sigh… then go along with whatever nonsense you’re up to, even if he acts like he’s suffering the entire time.

he acts like a responsible adult, but enables your habits in secret. “you shouldn’t be drinking so much caffeine.” and yet, the next morning, there’s an extra coffee waiting for you. “wasting money on little things adds up.” but somehow, that limited-edition item you wanted just magically appears on your desk. he talks a big game about being responsible, but when it comes to you? he has no self-control.

he takes care of you like an old-fashioned gentleman. he opens doors, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, and insists on carrying heavy things for you. not because he thinks you can’t—just because he wants to. he likes taking care of you, even if he pretends it’s just out of obligation. if you try to carry something heavy, he just looks at you. doesn’t even say anything. just crosses his arms and waits for you to give up and hand it to him. if you call him a gentleman, he’ll scoff, “that’s just basic decency.” but if you really gush about it, you might catch the tips of his ears turning pink.

he thinks trendy slang is ridiculous. you use modern slang just to see his reaction, and it never fails to make him sigh like he just aged ten years on the spot.

“nanami, be so for real.”

“…so for real what?”

“you should just trust the process.”

“i’d rather not.”

if you ever jokingly call him “king” or “bestie” he’ll give you the look. he pretends he doesn’t care, but if you say something really out of pocket, you might actually get him to break character and let out a very exhausted, “what does that even mean?” (you’re keeping track of all the slang that makes him react the most so you can use it strategically. it’s your favorite game.)

he secretly likes when you cling to him. nanami acts like he’s too mature for overly affectionate behavior, but the first time you loop your arm through his or rest your head against his shoulder in public, he freezes. clears his throat. tries to pretend he doesn’t care—but his hand naturally comes to rest over yours, holding you there like it’s second nature. if you ever hug him from behind or whine “but i missed you,” he won’t admit how fast his heart is beating, but he will sigh and say, “i was gone for twenty minutes.” doesn’t matter. he still lets you cling to him as long as you want.

he plans the most responsible dates, but lets you drag him into chaos. nanami’s idea of a date? a nice dinner, a quiet café, maybe a bookstore. nothing loud, nothing unpredictable. your idea of a date? “let’s go to an arcade.” “let’s take a random train and see where we end up.” “let’s sneak into a rooftop at night.” he knows he should say no. but when you look at him like that? sigh. fine. but if you get into trouble, “i had no part in this.” (he’s definitely bailing you out of trouble five minutes later.)

he absolutely dads you when you get hurt. if you get a tiny scrape? nanami reacts like an overprotective father. “what happened?” “let me see.” “you need to be more careful.” and you’re like, “it’s a paper cut.” but he’s already pulling out a bandaid (which he definitely carries with him, because of course he does). if you ever get seriously hurt? he’s scolding you while carefully patching you up. “you’re too reckless.” “next time, call me.” but his hands are so gentle, and he won’t leave your side until he’s sure you’re okay.

he adores when you fall asleep on him. you knock out on his shoulder? he won’t move. his arm is numb, but he doesn’t dare wake you. if you fall asleep on his lap? his hand naturally comes up to run through your hair. if you curl up in bed and mumble “stay with me,” he’ll sigh, say something about how he has work in the morning… and then stay anyway. and if you ever catch him staring when you wake up? he’ll immediately look away. “you were drooling,” he lies. (he was watching you like you hung the stars.)

he acts like he’s too old for all this, but deep down? nanami loves you more than anything. and if loving you takes years off his life? so be it.

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his hair, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[leighsartworks216]

His Beautiful Nose

Sylus x gn!Reader

This is all I think about when I see him sometimes, genuinely. I just see his nose and I go a little insane

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, kissing, biting, teasing, silly

Word Count: 1,001 (all my fics lately have had such satisfying word counts ough so good)

Main Masterlist

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AO3

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"Sweetie, what are you doing?"

You shush him, focused on whatever the hell you were up to right now. Sylus quirks a brow at you.

"I think I have a right to know, since you're holding my face hostage," he teases, speaking in a languid murmur, raspy.

You'd found him asleep in one of his many lounge chairs; legs out, arms crossed, head back. It was impossible to ignore the desire to sneak around behind the chair and hold his face. Of course, doing so woke him up, which led you here.

"I'm just appreciating how pretty you are," you tell him. And it's not technically a lie. You are appreciating his beauty. Just, a specific part of his beauty.

"And you can't sit in my lap and do that?" He reaches back behind the chair. His large hand finds your back easily and begins tracing light shapes into your sides, your spine - wherever he could reach.

You giggle and squirm away from his ticklish touch. "No, now stay still and hush."

He huffs with exasperation, but he does as you ask. His hand settles on your lower back, loosely holding you close. He appreciates you in turn with his crimson eyes, half-lidded with sleep.

You run your thumbs along his cheeks. His skin is smooth, pliant beneath your fingers. He seems so untouchable - and he is. To everyone that isn't you. The fact you're this close means more than you'll ever be able to fully grasp.

You lean down and press a delicate kiss between his eyebrows. His fingers twitch against your back. You trace under his eyes, coaxing him into closing them and putting his full trust in your hands. You kiss the spot again.

The next spot your lips find is perhaps half an inch down, at the point where his nose begins protruding from his face. It's an odd place for a kiss, he thinks. You must be up to something, yet he allows it anyway.

Kisses are slowly peppered down his nose. Each one takes its time, each following the strong line of his nose, over the bump and the wide bridge, down to the tip. Each one pours into the lazy smile tugging at his lips. You really woke him up just to "appreciate" his nose?

The kisses retreat towards his brow, but never reach it. One kiss, then two placed at the most prominent part of his nose's definition, and then-

He cracks an eye open. "Did you just bite my nose?"

You hum with a slight nod, kissing over the spot again. "I've been wanting to bite it for weeks now. This seemed like the perfect opportunity." Despite the nonchalant way you say it, he can practically feel the heat radiating off your face and onto his.

He chuckles softly and draws you closer by your back. "Do it again."

Truly, you didn't expect for that to be his response. You anticipated this being the one and only time you'd ever be allowed to do this. But he's encouraging it, with clear amusement.

Your teeth settle on either side of the bridge of his nose and not very far down, not even as far back as your canines, and gently bite down. It's not a lot of pressure, either. Realistically, it's more of a light nip, but he hums his approval. When you pull away, your lips catch on his skin, just as his do when he bites your hand. It's perfect.

His eyes watch now with unreserved affection. His hand trails up your back, reaches to cradle the back of your neck and the base of your skull. "Come here," he murmurs lowly. You're guided forward, drawn down as he tilts his head further back to meet his lips.

Your mouths move together in languid, drowsy kisses. The faint wet sound of your lips parting and shared, soft breaths fill the room. His nose presses against your chin, and yours in his, but neither of you move from the awkward angle except to deepen the kiss.

You feel the smirk on his lips before you see it. He pulls away and your body is suddenly weightless, floating through the air, carried by playful tendrils of energy.

"Sylus! What're you doing?!" You're flipped over him, slow enough you don't get lightheaded, to the front of the chair and directly into his lap. His arms wrap powerfully around your waist to draw you against his chest. Light kisses trail along your neck.

"You woke me from my nap. It only seems fair to keep you here," he says against your skin.

There's no point trying to push his arms away or wriggling free. He's much too strong for that. So, you give in. You sigh with a playful roll of your eyes and lean back into him, trying to find some comfortable position. Once you're settled, one of his arms slips from around you, and gently fingers turn you by your chin to face him.

"I also need to return the favor, don't I?"

He takes his sweet time doing so. A trail of kisses, all light pecks, winds from your jaw to your chin to your cheek. They finally come to your forehead, where he places one between your brows. Down to where your nose begins. Down over the bridge, to the tip, and back up.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tilts his head and carefully lines his teeth up in just the same way you did. He bites down, gentle in a way that seems unfathomable to anyone else who knew him. After a second, he pulls away, lips catching on your skin.

He leans back into the chair and guides your head to his shoulder before wrapping his arm around you once more. He sighs, long and low, with content. "Wake me up in four hours," he murmurs.

"And what am I supposed to do until then?"

"You should have thought about that before you snuck in, sweetie."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08

[patricia-taxxon]

I want to set the record straight regarding a certain OST for a short film that should be coming out later this year, because one of its directors is making false and hurtful claims about me and my business ethic. After he made a prominent appearance on a drama stream about me & wrote a section of my callout doc, I told him that I wasn't interested in dragging him publicly, but that has felt more impossible as time goes on and I realize the extent of his misrepresentation. I had a vision of this film being able to release quietly in spite of everything, but I don't think that can happen, and I fully expect him to try and hurt my chances at further work.

In 2023, between techdogs 4 and 5, I worked on music for a then good friend's student film. It is by far the most technically difficult job I've ever had, and I did it for free. Now, before you get mad, this is partially (mostly) my fault. I never negotiated a price beforehand, and when I found out partway through that I was working for free, I let it slide for fear of being disruptive. If I was asked to quote a price today, it would have been approximately 900 USD. The work was a hellish and grueling experience, technical in ways I'd never been prepared for, and I sorely regret not putting my foot down, because I was hollowed out by the end of it.

A big portion of his callout against me is concerned with, bafflingly, my decision not to contribute my own money to the film, which at that point would have been a negative paycheck. I didn't pay the thirty dollars that I would've had to pitch in for the film to be screened, and I considered that a fine payment for the nine hundred dollars of work they got from me. He goes on to write that I'm rich anyways, I pay hundreds of dollars on album art (business expenses that I know I'll make back when the music is released) and "furry porn," because apparently if I am occasionally willing to drop a pretty penny on a pleasure purchase then I should simply be compelled to pay them randomly for things I hold no stake in and that I signed no contract for. He also mentions that I paid them later for the DCP file at another screening, of course by that point I had gotten the vibe that they were wanting for me to drop money on their project, so I did, giving the post-hoc justification that "i guess in this case I also care about the film sounding good." He writes "well I guess that was something she deemed worthy" without realizing the implication would then be that he did not see my own work as worthy.

Let me make this clear, this is like if a voice actor worked on my video game for free as a favor with no expectations of royalties, and then I asked them to help me pay to get the game on steam. This is presented along reheated second, third, fourthhand accounts of sexual misconduct.

And before we move on, to the claim that one album artist had to wait for years before receiving payment, this is true. I did forget to pay one artist, and only found out after their assistant contacted me years later, where I then paid six times the asking price as a late fee. I was commissioning over ten album arts every year, and as of now, this is the only time I have made this mistake.

It is impossible for me to refute his claims about the personal time we spent together in Omaha, as it would just be my word against his. I will just say that he should know the omitted reasons that I have grown to feel I was disposed, discarded, and taken for granted by him, and how he has nothing to do with why I hold those memories at that film festival so highly. He also does the classic thing where he positions allowing me to pick the movie in the evening as this favor he did, making me unknowingly rack up debt for a bargain I never consented to.

During all this, he has expressed an existential fear of being harassed for going public about me, and for this reason I want to say that I still hope that this film can be released without a fuss, but his continued participation in a harassment campaign against me has done far more to tarnish his reputation than I ever could. If you really cared about your image, pressure Crim to re-record that drama stream without your embarrassing petty grievances in it & delete your testimony from the callout doc. Thanks.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 27: Public Sex

We have another one of these down. I'll probably stop at thirty. Also, Who knew she was so kinky. On another note, I just happened to have these ideas and requests for Dahyun that I really liked. This is probably the last time she appears though.

Length 2K

Dahyun X Mreader

“Let’s play a game!” The girls all knew what that meant. They looked at each other, wondering what the game would be this time. Sana always wanted to play dirty games when the group had finished off bottles of alcohol. Sana giggled as she placed the pirate on the coffee table in front of the group. “The loser has to do what the others say!” Sana didn’t care who lost; she knew she would get something out of it. The other Twice members agreed to play; it was usually fun to see what would happen. Each member took one plastic sword, putting it into the pirate’s barrel, hoping it wouldn’t pop up. Sword after sword went in, and the members were surprised they hadn’t caused the game to end yet. They looked at each other nervously, each member having one sword left. This would be the last round.

Sana went first, whining as she pushed in the sword. After the click, she was slightly disappointed to see the pirate still in the barrel. She wanted to be the loser; she knew the punished member would have the most fun. Momo went next, and the result was much the same, but she was happy not to be the loser. Mina followed, then Nayeon, Jihyo, and Chaeyoung. It came down to the final three: Dahyun, Jeongyeon, and Tzuyu. They stared nervously at the pirate. “Wait!” Sana said, having an idea of how to make it more exciting. “Everyone choose a hole, then we’ll go in order.” Sana’s idea was to have them choose now before the options become limited.  Jeongyeon, Dahyun, and Tzuyu each chose where they would put the sword, holding the tip inside and waiting. Jeongyeon went first, pushing in until she heard the click; she took a deep breath, happy it wasn’t her. Dahyun went next; the loser would be either her or Tzuyu. Pushing the sword in, she held her breath. The toy pirate popped up from the barrel as it clicked, making her the loser. Tzuyu breathed a sigh of relief as the pirate popped up. She wouldn’t be the one to get punished. 

“Dahyun, go wait in the kitchen. We have to decide your punishment.” Sana cheered, happy that the game was finally over. Dahyun hung her head as she walked to the kitchen. The others chatted about what to have the young woman do until they finally came to a decision. Once they called her back, Dahyun looked around, hoping her punishment wouldn’t be too rough. “Jihyo, do you want to tell Dahyun her punishment?”

“You should do it; it was your idea.”

“Okay! Dahyun, your punishment is you’re going to have to go outside and have sex with someone!” Sana said, clapping as she announced the punishment. “Isn’t this great you get to have sex!” Dahyun was stunned at the punishment. Truth be told, it wasn’t the worst thing, but she knew how Sana had come up with the idea. The older woman had talked to Dahyun about kinks before and knew Dahyun wanted to try public sex. “Oh! And you have to go out in this!” Sana said, pulling up a large coat and stockings. “You only get to wear this,” Sana giggled. The others laughed, seeing the outfit Dahyun would have to go out in. 

Dahyun whined as she grabbed the lack of clothes, stripped in front of the group, and put on her stockings and coat. She grumbled as she walked through the door and stepped outside the dorm. Walking into the streets, she could feel her phone vibrating as the members texted her to ask if she had found someone yet. It had just been a few minutes. It was like they expected the idol to fuck someone in front of the building. Dahyun’s plan was to go further away and find an alley that would be a more comfortable spot. Once she found one, she waited. She watched people walk by before happening to spot you. You would have to do. “Excuse me!” She called. You turned your head to the voice calling you. Seeing the young woman, you walked over before recognizing her as the idol. “Hi, I need you to do something for me.”

“What do you need?” You ask, eager to help the idol. Dahyun beckons you into the alley, going deep into it so people won’t notice the act that would happen. “Dahyun?” You call as you follow her.

“I just need something really quick.” Dahyun pauses as she turns around, moving her hand between the top of her coat, ready to reveal herself. She was getting wet thinking about what was about to happen. “I want you to fuck me. Can you help me with that?” You’re stunned at the request. You always viewed Dahyun as a pure woman, so to hear her asking for sex so blatantly was unexpected. Seeing your hesitation, Dahyun asks again, layering the lust in her voice. “I just really need a nice hard cock. Can you help me? I’m so horny.”

Dahyun opened her coat, revealing nothing underneath her jacket. Her black stockings fit tightly around her thighs. It was the only thing that she had on. She bit her bottom lip, a sly smile forming as the cold air hit her body. Dahyun's thighs were slick with her juices as she stared at you. As your eyes move from the hard pink nubs on her chest to her puffy lips, you feel your desires for the idol building. The night lights made her slick thighs glisten. She waits with bated breath for you to make a move on her. As you unconsciously reach out for her chest, she pushes it out to meet you. Your hand touches the firm mound, and as you squeeze it, Dahyunletss out a soft moan. Hearing your bias moan because of your touch gets you hard, and Dahyun notices. She slips her jacket off her shoulders, dropping it onto the ground before unbuckling your belt and pushing her hand into your pants. Wrapping her hand around your cock Dahyun licks her lips as her hand begins to move along your shaft. “Thanks for the help. I’ll make sure you feel good, too.”

Dahyun’s delicate fingers have your cock in a soft grip as she pulls it out of your pants. She glances down, sucking in a quick breath as she sees its size. “Oh, it’s so big already. You were thinking some naughty thoughts, weren’t you?” You nod, struggling to get a word out as she rubs the tip of your cock with her thumb. You would’ve never imagined Dahyun to be so  slutty, but here she was proving you wrong. Dahyun pushed herself onto you, continuing to stroke your cock as you groped her breasts, her hard nipples rubbing against your palms. You lean down and steal a kiss from Dahyun. 

You’re surprised to feel her tongue trace your lips but push for more. You explore each other’s mouths as Dahyun coats her hand in your precum. She rubs her legs together, becoming more aroused, her mind filling with thoughts of you stuffing her with your cock in the alley.  Dahyun moves one hand down to her clit, rubbing it softly as she jerks you off with her other hand. “Fuck me already,” she whimpers. 

You press Dahyun against the wall, getting behind her. You rub your cock against her cunt only for a second before ramming your length inside her; she cries out, your cock stretching out her tiny cunt. “Oh fuck!”  You don’t give her any time to adjust; her fleshy walls are squeezing tightly as you thrust deep into her cunt. Dahyun moans freely as you slam yourself against her ass, burying your cock inside her with every thrust. You grip her waist tightly, digging your nails into her pale skin. “Fuck, yes, deeper!” Dahyun moans, grimacing as her body bounces against yours, her tits swinging as another thrust makes you bottom out inside her. You move one hand to her tits, grabbing at them as you fuck the idol. 

Dahyun feels her core tightening; she leans against the wall to support herself as she feels her climax approaching. Just as she was going to say something, Dahyun felt your cum being pumped into her womb. A guttural moan escapes her lips as you trigger her climax. As Dahyun’s body shakes from her climax, you slap her ass, watching the soft flesh jiggle as she cums. You spank her again, leaving a handprint on her pale skin as you finish dumping your cum into her. Dahyun groans, moving a hand to her slit to feel your cum leaking out of her. You pull out of the idol and watch as she brings her fingers to her lips, tasting your cum for herself. The sight of the idol eating your cum turns you on and keeps you hard. 

As Dahyun looks over her shoulder to see you still hard, she smiles. Squatting before you, she takes your cock in her hand again.  You cum flows out of her cunt onto the ground as she strokes your messy cock, coating her hand with your cum. She drags her tongue along her palm, moaning as she tastes your salty cum again. “Let me clean you up. I can’t leave such a good cock messy.” Dahyun rubs your cum coated cock against her lips, staining them before she swallows the head. Dahyun moaned around your cock, bobbing her head slowly so her tongue could work around the shaft. You moan loudly, reveling in the feeling of her tongue lapping at the tip as she stops to focus on the head. You place your hand on Dahyun’s head, moving her from the tip to the base of your cock. You felt her lips against your pelvis as your cock hit the back of her throat. Dahyun doesn’t mind the roughness; she was actually enjoying the way you were treating her. As you let her go, she pops you out of her mouth, slapping her cheeks with your cock as she says, “Face fuck me. I’m all yours; treat me like the slut I am.” You’re stunned by Dahyun. You didn’t know what to do for a second but quickly settled on doing your worst to her. You would never get another chance to fuck the idol. 

You hold Dahyun’s head in place as you thrust into her mouth, plugging the hole with your cock as you keep it buried inside her throat for a few seconds before thrusting again. You enjoy every moment of her throat tightening around you. You knew you weren’t going to last long, but that didn’t matter; you were going to fuck Dahyun’s face. Dahyun’s face becomes a mess as time goes on. Saliva coats her chin as it runs down from her lips. Her make-up is ruined, mascara running down her cheeks as her eyes water. “I’m going to cum,” you groan as your thrusts turn wild. You pull out just as you cum, spurting your semen onto the idol's face. Your cum paints her face and lands on her hair. Dahyun sticks her tongue out, getting a few drops on it. She gleefully swallows them. You back up and take good luck at the messy idol. Dahyun’s body was sweaty; her hair was matted. Your cum hadn’t only stained her face but had managed to get onto her body. Cum still dripped out of her cunt. You thank Dahyun for the experience, bowing before you leave. Dahyun stayed in the same place, cleaning the cum from her body before grabbing her coat and walking back to the dorms, cum still on her face as she did so. 

The girls cheered for their members as she walked through the door. Dahyun had a tired smile on her face as she took off the coat and laid back on the couch, letting Sana clean out her cunt as she asked questions about her experience. The others pointed and laughed as they heard the story.

[promptedwordsmith]

I love your headcannons so I gotta put an ask in here. As we all know, MC can act a bit childish and is quick to push touch/affection away.

It makes me think of the quote, "If you touch me without violence, you'll be the first". Would love a writing about it.

Aw thank you! I hope this is what you meant <3

Caleb

The first time Caleb touched you, you flinched.

It was barely anything—a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you something, an innocent, meaningless gesture—but your entire body stiffened, your breath hitched, and before you even realized it, you had yanked your hand back.

The warmth of his skin lingered, and you hated it.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did. His sharp violet eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

But he never stopped touching you.

Not in a way that was forceful or overwhelming. Never in a way that felt like he was trying to push you past your boundaries. But it was there—the careful way his shoulder would bump into yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d place his hand on your lower back as he guided you through a crowd, the way his fingers would brush against your wrist when he passed you something.

Each time, your reaction was the same. A flinch. A step back. A refusal.

At first, he gave you space. He didn’t push, didn’t question. Caleb wasn’t the type to force someone into anything they weren’t ready for. But he wasn’t blind either. He saw the way your guard never dropped, the way your muscles tensed at even the gentlest touch.

And then, one night, he finally asked.

You were both standing outside, the city lights stretching far into the distance, stars barely visible beyond the haze. It was quiet between you, peaceful, until he broke it with a simple question.

“Why do you hate being touched?”

You froze.

Your fingers curled into fists, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to ignore him, wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who let things slide.

When you didn’t answer, he turned to face you fully, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not just me, is it?” His eyes searched yours. “You don’t let anyone touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

And then you said it. The words that had been sitting on your tongue for years, unspoken, buried beneath layers of defense and survival.

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The weight of those words crushed the space between you.

Caleb didn’t react right away. He didn’t wince, didn’t gasp, didn’t give you that pitying look you dreaded seeing. Instead, he just stood there, his violet gaze locked onto yours, taking in everything you weren’t saying.

You braced yourself for rejection, for discomfort, for him to leave—but he didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath and said, “…Then I guess I’ll have to be first.”

Your stomach twisted. “Caleb—”

“I won’t push you.” His voice was firm but patient. “I won’t touch you until you let me.”

That should’ve been the end of it. It should’ve been the part where you turned away and let him go, where he accepted your boundaries and never tried again.

But the problem was Caleb never stopped caring about you.

And worse? You had let yourself care about him too.

Caleb never tried to force his way into your space, never laid a hand on you without permission. But he stayed.

He stayed through the silence, through the bad days, through the moments when you wanted to push everyone away but couldn’t bring yourself to do it with him.

He made himself a constant.

And that was dangerous.

Because the longer he stayed, the more you caught yourself wanting to reach for him.

The more you caught yourself watching his hands—the same hands that had held weapons, that had taken lives, that had commanded entire fleets—and wondering how they would feel if they touched you gently.

The more you caught yourself leaning in just a little when he stood beside you, like some part of you was trying to unlearn a lifetime of flinching.

You weren’t used to it.

You weren’t used to someone treating you like you were something precious instead of something hardened. You weren’t used to someone looking at you like you were worth waiting for.

And it scared you.

Because if you let yourself have this, if you let him in—what then?

It happened one night when you weren’t thinking.

You had both been caught in a battle, pushed to your limits, and despite everything—despite all the odds—you had both made it out alive.

Caleb was covered in cuts and bruises, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but the moment he saw you stumble, he reached for you instinctively—just like he always did.

And this time, for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands found your arms, steadying you, grounding you. You felt his warmth, his strength—and you let him hold you.

It was so small. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just his hands on your arms, steady and reassuring. But to you, it felt like something shattered.

Caleb stilled, his grip light, as if he half-expected you to come to your senses and shove him away. His eyes searched yours, cautious, waiting.

But you didn’t move.

For the first time, you let yourself be touched without bracing for pain.

Without expecting violence.

Without fear.

And the look Caleb gave you in that moment—soft, careful, like he knew exactly how much this meant even if you hadn’t said a word—was enough to make something inside you break.

You swallowed hard, pulse racing.

“You’re the first.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, barely a whisper, but Caleb heard them.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the edge of your sleeve in the gentlest motion imaginable.

“Then I’ll make sure I’m never the last.”

And you believed him.

For the first time in your life, you actually believed someone.

Because Caleb had never broken a promise to you before.

And deep down, you knew he never would.

Rafayel

Rafayel had always been affectionate—too affectionate, if you were being honest. It wasn’t just the teasing smirks or the casual way he draped himself over you like a cat seeking warmth. It was the way his hands would linger, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way he spoke your name like it was something precious.

But you weren’t used to it.

So, when he leaned in too close, when his fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, when his warmth wrapped around you in unspoken promises of safety, you pushed him away. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firm enough to make the message clear.

He didn’t take offense, at least not outwardly. Rafayel always bounced back with a lopsided grin, a lazy roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Fine, I’ll wait. But there was something in his eyes—something quieter, something more knowing.

And you hated that.

Because deep down, you knew what he saw.

He saw the way you flinched, even when his touch was gentle. He saw the way your shoulders tensed whenever he got too close, the way you shrank away from affection like it was a foreign language you never learned to speak.

Most people didn’t notice. Most people assumed you were just distant, that maybe you simply weren’t the affectionate type.

Rafayel knew better.

And that made him dangerous.

It started one evening, after one of his exhibitions. The gallery had emptied out, the patrons long gone, and yet he lingered, still basking in the afterglow of another successful night. You had stayed behind too, for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of. Maybe because he had asked. Maybe because it was easier than saying no to him.

He had pulled you into the back room where his latest painting was covered with a cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked it away, revealing the canvas beneath.

It was you.

Not a perfect replica, not a stiff, lifeless portrait. It was you in motion, caught mid-laugh, the golden glow of light flickering behind you as if you were something divine.

It took your breath away.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You painted this?”

“No, it painted itself.” Rafayel smirked, stepping closer. “Of course I painted it.”

You didn’t have words. You didn’t know how to process something so raw, so intimate. It was one thing for someone to look at you, but it was another thing entirely for someone to see you. And Rafayel had always seen you.

That was the problem.

“I—” The words stuck to your throat. You weren’t good at this. At accepting things. At being loved without conditions, without expectations.

And then, just like always, Rafayel reached for you.

His fingers, long and paint-stained, brushed against your wrist—light, hesitant, careful. No force, no demand, just warmth.

And just like always, you flinched.

You stepped back so fast you almost knocked over the easel. “Don’t.” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharp and unsteady.

Rafayel’s hand froze midair before he slowly pulled it back. His expression didn’t falter, but there was something—something—in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you with that same knowing look that had always unsettled you.

“Why?” His voice was soft. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just curious.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to drop it. You wanted him to go back to making jokes, to fill the silence with something light, something meaningless.

But he didn’t.

Because Rafayel never let things go.

You swallowed. “Because… if you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rafayel exhaled, slow and careful, as if he were afraid of shattering you. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t apologize, didn’t pity you. He just stood there, watching you with those piercing blue-pink eyes of his, like he was unraveling all the pieces of you you’d kept hidden for so long.

It made you want to run.

And maybe he saw that too, because he took a step back. Gave you space.

“Okay,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

The simplicity of it made something inside you ache.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

For the first time in your life, someone didn’t demand. Someone didn’t take.

Someone just waited.

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel never touched you. He still leaned into your space, still gave you that infuriatingly charming grin, but his hands never reached for you again. Not once.

And you hated that you noticed.

You noticed the absence of his touch. You noticed the way his fingers twitched when he was excited, the way his hands curled into fists like he had to remind himself not to reach for you. You noticed how much you wanted him to.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

And one night, when he was sitting beside you, lazily sketching something while you both watched the waves crash against the shore, you made the first move.

It was small. Barely anything.

Just your pinky brushing against his.

But Rafayel noticed.

His breath hitched, and his gaze flickered to you, cautious, questioning.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt electric, buzzing with something unspoken, something fragile.

Then Rafayel, ever patient, ever waiting, turned his hand palm-up beneath yours.

An invitation.

Not a demand.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, before slowly—so slowly—you let your fingers slip into his.

Warmth. Solid, steady warmth.

No violence.

No pain.

Just him.

Rafayel said nothing, didn’t make a big deal of it. He just held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been waiting lifetimes for it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been waiting too.

Sylus

The first time Sylus touched you, you flinched.

It was subtle—just a stiffening of your shoulders, a flicker of tension in your stance. But for someone as dangerously observant as Sylus, it was enough. His fingers had barely brushed your wrist—light, almost teasing—as he leaned in to whisper something low in your ear.

And yet, you recoiled.

He didn’t comment on it then, only let a smirk curl at the corner of his lips as if he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Of course, he had.

Sylus never missed anything.

Sylus was nothing if not patient.

He had seen resistance before. He had encountered people who feared him, people who worshipped him, people who wanted something from him. But you?

You were different.

You didn’t fear him—you feared being touched.

And that… was fascinating.

So, he tested it.

Little things, at first. A hand at the small of your back as he guided you through a door. A knuckle brushing over your cheek under the excuse of tucking away a stray strand of hair. A moment where he let his fingers graze yours when he passed you something.

Every time, your body tensed—just slightly—but you didn’t pull away.

Not right away.

You always let it happen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if waiting for something.

And that was when he knew.

You weren’t just unused to affection.

You were waiting for it to turn into something else.

Something harsher. Something cruel.

Something violent.

And that realization—that truth about you—made his blood burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

The night it finally broke, Sylus hadn’t meant to push too far.

It had been a long evening, tension thrumming beneath the surface between you both like an electric current. You had been irritatingly stubborn during negotiations, as always, challenging him, testing him, making him bite back a smirk as you stood your ground.

But the moment that lingered with him was after, when the night had settled and you had found yourself alone in his office.

He approached you like he always did—without hesitation.

This time, he touched your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t just teasing.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was real.

And you panicked.

You slapped his hand away, hard. The sound cracked through the air, sharp and startling, but Sylus didn’t react. He barely blinked, only watching as you took a step back, breath uneven, eyes wild.

His fingers flexed once before he let them drop to his side.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, quietly—

"If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first."

It wasn’t said with anger. It wasn’t a warning or a threat.

It was just… the truth.

And Sylus, for once in his life, didn’t have a response.

Something Unspoken

After that, he changed tactics.

He didn’t stop touching you entirely—no, never that. But he let you decide.

He let you approach him.

He gave you space but stayed close enough that you could always reach him if you wanted to.

And, for a while, you didn’t.

But then—

One night, after an exhausting mission, you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his. You didn’t move away.

Another time, when exhaustion weighed on you, you let him take your wrist to check your pulse, your fingers trembling slightly—but not from fear.

And then, the night that changed everything—

You let him touch your face again.

This time, when his hand cradled your cheek, you leaned into it.

Not much. Just a fraction. Just enough that he could feel the shift.

Just enough for him to know.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Slowly, deliberately, his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his voice low when he finally spoke:

"I would never hurt you."

Your breath hitched.

He felt it.

He didn’t ask why it was so hard for you to believe him. He didn’t ask who had left you expecting pain from every touch, from every lingering moment.

He only let his hand remain where it was, grounding, steady—yours, if you wanted it.

And finally, you did.

You didn’t say anything that night. You didn’t have to.

But after that, something changed.

Sylus, perceptive as always, noticed immediately.

The way your body no longer tensed at his presence. The way you lingered just a little closer when you stood beside him. The way your fingers, hesitant at first, brushed against the sleeve of his coat as if testing a boundary you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.

And the way, eventually, you did.

It happened late one evening, when the city outside was silent, the only sounds in the room the distant hum of a record player spinning on low and the soft shuffle of papers on his desk.

You had been sitting across from him, absentmindedly twirling a pen between your fingers when, out of nowhere—you reached for him.

Your hand, small but steady, settled against his.

No hesitation. No flinching. No fear.

Sylus, always composed, almost stopped breathing.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

But his fingers curled over yours, slow, deliberate—a silent promise.

A promise that, for the first time in your life, someone’s touch wouldn’t bring pain.

And that was enough.

For now.

Xavier

The first time Xavier reached for you, you flinched.

It was instinct, sharp and immediate. His fingers had barely brushed your sleeve before you jerked away, stepping out of reach so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, tilting his head as if trying to decipher something unsaid.

You weren’t looking at him, though. You were staring at your own hands, fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles tight. Get it together.

"You okay?" His voice was light, easy, like he hadn’t just watched you recoil from his touch as if it burned.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Just—" You hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You shouldn’t do that."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with something colder than you really felt. "Touch me."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before his expression shifted back to something more familiar—a smirk, teasing but careful. "Alright," he said, as if it didn’t matter. "No touching."

Except it did matter. Because Xavier wasn’t someone who kept his hands to himself—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made him feel real. He was the kind of person who nudged you with his elbow when he made a joke, who ruffled your hair just to annoy you, who tugged at your sleeve when he wanted your attention.

But he listened.

For the next few weeks, he was careful. He kept his distance, kept his hands in his pockets, kept a respectable space between the two of you even when it was just the two of you on a mission, walking side by side.

And for some reason, it made your chest ache.

You wanted him close.

You just didn’t know how to let him be.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. If anything, that was the problem.

Xavier had wormed his way into your life in a way no one else had before. He was constant—too constant, maybe. There was no hesitation in the way he cared, no moment of doubt in his affection. He liked you, so he showed it. He wanted to be around you, so he was. There was no second-guessing, no caution.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Because affection had always come with conditions. Because touches had always been accompanied by something sharp—by expectation, by control, by violence.

So the idea of Xavier touching you with nothing but warmth?

It scared you more than any fight ever had.

"You ever gonna tell me why?"

You blinked up from where you sat at the edge of a rooftop, staring out at the cityscape below. Xavier was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why what?"

"Why you don’t like me touching you." His voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t pushing—it was just curious.

You swallowed. "I just don’t."

Xavier hummed, as if considering that. "You sure about that?"

You tensed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, stepping forward—not close, but closer. "I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes."

Your heart skipped. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted, voice softer now. "Like you want me to reach for you, but you don’t know if you should let me."

You exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly. You should have expected this—Xavier wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He was patient, sure, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed things, noticed you.

And now, he was waiting.

You stared at your hands. "If you touch me without violence," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "you’ll be the first."

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might not have heard you. But then, after a long pause, Xavier let out a quiet breath.

"That’s a damn shame," he said. His voice was soft, but not pitying. "Because you deserve better than that."

You didn’t look at him. "Maybe."

"You do," he said, firmer this time. "And I want to prove it to you."

Your breath hitched. "Xavier—"

"I won’t touch you until you want me to," he promised. "But when you do?" His gaze was steady, unwavering. "I’ll make sure you never have to doubt it."

It took time.

Xavier kept his promise. He didn’t touch you—not even accidentally. He was careful, patient in a way that made your chest ache. But he never pulled away emotionally. He was still there, still unwavering, still him.

And slowly, slowly, you started to realize something.

You wanted to close that distance.

You wanted him.

It started small—lingering closer when you walked together, sitting next to him instead of across the room, letting your shoulders brush just slightly before pulling away. And Xavier noticed. He always did.

But he didn’t push.

He let you take your time, let you move at your own pace.

Until one night, after a mission, when you were exhausted and sore and tired of your own fear, you turned to him and—hesitantly, carefully—reached for his hand.

His fingers twitched in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. He let you take his hand in yours, let you squeeze it lightly before letting go just as quickly.

You expected him to say something—maybe tease you, maybe push for more. But he didn’t. He just smiled, warm and real.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

Xavier chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Alright. No teasing. Not today, anyway."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "You love me."

You paused.

Then, quietly, you admitted, "Yeah."

Xavier stilled. His smile faltered—just for a second—before it softened into something genuine. Something real.

"Good," he murmured.

And for the first time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull away.

Zayne

Zayne had always been patient. It was in his nature, woven into the fabric of his being just as much as his steady hands and level-headed presence. As a surgeon, patience was a necessity—an unwavering calm in the face of pressure, a stillness when chaos reigned.

But this was different.

This was you.

You, with your guarded eyes and the walls you built around yourself so high that even he, with all his skill, couldn’t navigate them easily. He had known from the start that you were different—not because you were difficult, not because you weren’t capable of love, but because the world had been cruel to you in ways it hadn’t been to him.

And still, he wanted you.

It started slow. The quiet companionship, the moments where neither of you needed to speak but simply existed together. A shared cup of tea in the morning. The warmth of his coat draped over your shoulders on a cold night. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give, and yet…

Even he had limits to his patience.

Zayne had always been affectionate. Not in a way that was overwhelming, nor in grand declarations. No, his love was in the small things—in the way his fingers would brush against yours when passing you something, in the way his voice would soften when speaking your name, in the way he would lean in, close enough that you could feel his warmth but never quite touching.

And so, when he reached for you one evening—just a simple touch, the lightest brush of his fingertips against your wrist—he hadn’t expected you to recoil the way you did.

You flinched, your entire body going rigid, as if his touch had burned you.

Zayne froze. His hazel-green eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly withdrew his hand, watching you carefully. He wasn’t offended, nor was he hurt, but there was something in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I—”

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and sharp. The room felt heavier in their wake, like the air had been sucked from it.

Zayne didn’t speak for a moment. He simply looked at you, studying you in that careful way he always did—like he was dissecting a puzzle, trying to understand without breaking it further.

You hated the silence. Hated the way it stretched between you like an open wound.

Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

“I see.”

And just like that, he shifted back, putting a comfortable distance between you. Not out of rejection, not out of frustration, but because he understood. He always understood.

You expected him to ask. To pry. To demand to know what had led you to this—why you had flinched, why you had spoken those words with such bitterness. But he didn’t.

He simply nodded, accepting it as fact, and changed the subject.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Because Zayne, for all his patience and for all his understanding, was not one to simply forget.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Zayne hadn’t touched you since.

Not in the way he used to. No fleeting brushes of his fingertips, no teasing nudges, no quiet, lingering moments where his warmth bled into yours. It was as if he had drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

You told yourself it was for the best.

So why did it feel so much worse?

You had never needed touch. Never craved it, never longed for it. But now, in the absence of it, you felt its loss like a phantom pain. You missed it.

You missed him.

And so, when you found yourself standing outside his apartment one evening, your fingers curled into fists at your sides, you knew you had to do something.

The door opened before you could even knock.

Zayne blinked at you, surprised but not displeased. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

You hesitated.

And then, taking a deep breath, you walked past him, into the familiar warmth of his home.

He didn’t ask why you were there.

He simply poured you tea, as he always did, and waited.

You stared at the cup in your hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“I don’t…” You hesitated. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you with quiet patience. “Stop what?”

You swallowed. “Touching me.”

For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely surprised. Not in a dramatic way—Zayne was never dramatic—but in the way his fingers stilled against his cup, in the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“I did.” Your throat felt tight. “I do. But I also… I don’t know.” You exhaled sharply. “I just… don’t want you to stop trying.”

Something in his expression shifted.

He set his cup down carefully before looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Not with judgment, not with pity—just understanding.

“I never stopped,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“I just adjusted,” he continued. “To what you needed.”

And you realized, with startling clarity, that he had been touching you. Just not in the way you had expected.

It was in the way he always made you tea, the way he listened so intently, the way he never pushed, never pried, but always made sure you knew he was there.

He had been touching you in the only way you would allow.

And now? Now, you wanted more.

Tentatively, hesitantly, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and you felt him still beneath your touch.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t push for more.

He simply let you choose.

And, for the first time in your life, you did.

You let yourself be touched—gently, without violence, without fear.

Zayne, patient as ever, simply held still and let you set the pace.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

[luvyeni]

being a passenger princess and giving your driving boyfriend moral support

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이희승 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. word count. 0.7k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ something about road head intrigues me so much idk why

you loved being a passenger princess; not having to drive, just being able to cross your feet on the seat despite your boyfriends protest and eat your snacks you packed , while your boyfriend drove you to your destinations — you could never imagine driving when you had heeseung to do it for you; you were simply there to look pretty and give your man moral support.

“baby you’re stressing me out, i told you to charge your ipad last night , i said it’s gonna be a long drive and what did you say.” he said. “it was already charged.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t roll your eyes at me , you wanted to be the lazy one and not get up to get it.”

was he correct? yes. but you weren’t about to let him know that. “well i thought it was charged.” you said. “you’re on it all day , you clutch on to it like 3 year old.” he said eyes still on the rode. “it couldn’t possibly be charged.”

“tch , and to think im here giving you moral support.” he laughed. “moral support is you pestering me about stopping at a store to get you a snack , then sure princess , i love the moral support you’re giving me.” he put his hand on your thigh. “love it so much.” he squeezed playfully. “i know you do.”

you reached over the console , kissing his cheek. “baby let me drive.” he giggled , never taking his eyes off the rode. “is this not moral support?” you gave him another cheeky kiss. “do you not feel supported?” he smiled. “all the time , baby all the time.” he let you keep kissing his cheek — then you started going lower; kissing his jaw , giving little nibbles. “don’t get too carried away , your parents will ask questions if you leave marks.”

he felt your lips kiss behind his ear , he sighed. “baby don’t kiss there.” he should’ve pulled you off while he was driving , but he couldn’t resist any advances when it came to you. “yo-you know it’s sensitive there.” you smirked against his neck. “i know.” he felt his cock jumping in his sweats. “that’s why i'm doing it.”

“fuck.” you worked down his neck , your palm flat against his chest. “baby , let me pull over then.” his cock hard in his pants, your hand going down to his waistband. “no, keep driving.” you kissed his chest , trying not to block his view. “we’re gonna be late if you do.” you finally made your way down to his lower region. “lift your hips.”

he took one hand off the wheel to undo the tie of his sweatpants , pulling them down enough to free himself. “shit.” he hissed the hair hitting his sensitive tip. “so pretty hee.” you grabbed the base of his cock. “love your cock so much.” you kissed the red tip , his sticky precum covering your lips. “sh-shit baby.” he groaned. “show me how much you love it.”

you slowly worked your way down on his length , his hand came to the back of your head , not pushing you down , just resting as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. “mhm fuck baby keep doing it like that.” he groaned , eyes hazy but he forced them open. “this is so-so fucking dangerous baby — but fuck your pretty mouth feels so good.” his hips involuntarily moving up and down. “god i love you so much.”

you noticed he was about to cum when he began to push on your head. “fuck , fuck princess im about to cum.” he groaned out. “fuck I’m cumming.” you felt his sticky cum shoot to the back of your throat. “fuck swollow all of baby.” he sighed. “be a good girl and clean me.” you licked up all his cum , sticking your tongue out once you swallowed. “good girl.”

“is that the type of support you meant?” he laughed once he got himself together. “almost causing an accident?” you smiled. “you sounded like you enjoyed it.” you wiped your mouth , taking a sip of water. “hell yeah i did.” he said , his hands creeping up your thigh. “let me repay you.” he said. “you wanna cum on my fingers?” you nodded. “ye-yes hee.” his hands working his way into your pants. “good girl.” his hand cup your cunt , not taking his eyes off the rode once as his fingers slid inside of you. “oh heeseung.” you moaned out.

god you loved being a passenger princess.

©️LYVYENI

[blastiebabe]

hell yeah, you are spoiled

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

You place your phone somewhere Katsuki cannot notice, and in an angle enough to be able to see most of the space in the bedroom you share with him.

You press record and come back to sitting in front of your vanity table to continue getting ready for your date night. You have seen this TikTok video and was inspired by it to put your phone on record to test how easily your boyfriend can be enraged for you.

Katsuki comes into your shared bedroom wearing only trouser pants that fits perfectly in his waist and accentuate his hips. Seeing him through your mirror, you can't help but realize how beautiful your boyfriend is. Katsuki heads to the closet looking for a shirt to wear.

"Love, what color are you wearing?" He asks as he look at his clothes on the rack.

You came back to your senses when you heard him speak, you have been so mesmerized by his beauty you almost forgot you were shooting.

"A black dress." You replied, looking at his direction. "Why?"

Katsuki looks back at you. "Just askin'." He says as he brings out a black polo and proceeds to sit on the bed.

You smirk at his response. "You wanna match colors with me or somethin'?" You tease him.

"Nah uh." You watch his condescending expression from his reflection on the mirror, his tone with an attitude while simultaneously having red ears. If you aren't planning anything, you weren't gonna let that slide, but since you are, you'll prioritize that.

You laugh at him and continued your make up, trying to find the right time to throw him the reason you started recording. He laid on the bed scrolling on his phone while waiting for you.

A minute passed, and you decided to finally tell him. "Love..." Katsuki immediately darted his eyes straight at you, waiting for the next thing you'll say.

"I have something I need to tell you but promise you won't be mad, okay?" You say calmly, acting yourself the hell out.

Katsuki immediately changed his position and sits up straight, eyes locked at you with a hint of worry in his face. "I ain't making any promises. What is it?"

You turn your back on the mirror and faced your boyfriend who has now a visibly worried face. You look at the floor and started playing with your fingers, making him worry more.

He stands up and sits on the edge of the bed in front of you. He is now near you and looking straight at you while you continue to look at the floor. "Princess, come on, you can tell me..."

"Well, I... I have read some comments on your social media page..." You look at Katsuki before you, you feel a hint of guilt when you saw how genuine his concern is. But you needed to continue.

"Mm hmm. And then?" He asks calmly.

"And... and some of your fans have left comments on the pictures you have uploaded of me."

"The hell did they say?" Katsuki asks now with a hint of irritation from his voice. This is going well. You thought.

"They said I am super spoiled." You say as sad as your acting can be.

You can clearly see the shift in Katsuki's eyes as you have muttered the last word, and his annoyance suddenly became a repressed laughter. He snorts as he covers his mouth.

You face him offended. Did he just laugh because other people called you spoiled? What the fuck?

Before you can even tell him off, he stands up, grabs his polo and started wearing it. "Love, you are spoiled." He says emphasizing on it.

"Katsuki, what the actual fuck?" You say having a hard time to process what he is saying.

He was about to button his polo when he suddenly sees you look so disappointed to what he just said. He clearly isn't making himself clear. He goes in front you, his right knee touching the floor as he looks straight into your eyes.

"My love, you honestly better be spoiled. Because I do spoil you, don't I?" Katsuki reaches for your hands. "So, hell yeah, you are spoiled. Because you are my princess and you deserve to get everything you want."

You can literally feel your annoyance slowly fading out. How can this man be so damn mean and sweet at the same fucking time?

Katsuki continues, "I know you spoil yourself even before we started dating, so it is my job to spoil you better than you spoil yourself." You can straight up see how genuine his words are through his eyes.

"And if I may I remind you, I am more than willing to spoil you 'til the ends of the Earth if it means I get to make you be happiest you've ever been." The man before you explain as he cups your cheek with his hand.

This conversation has turned into a completely different route from what you had expected. You had expected him to be furious about the comments, to be protective to not let other people talk like that about you. But turns out Katsuki has his own way to make you feel so damn good. This. This is the reason why Katsuki is different from all the other damned extras.

You can literally feel tears forming in your eyeballs. You cup both his cheeks with your hands, knowing anytime the damned tears might just fall. "You know I love you so damn much, right?"

You feel his smile in the palm of your hands. "Of course I do, my love." As soon as these words depart from his lips, you took the opportunity to have your lips met his.

Using your tongue to explain and make him remember how much you love him, and all the other things you feel for him that can never be explained by words alone.

Your hands travel on the nape of his neck bringing him closer to you as you deepen the kiss. You feel his hands at the small of your back as he let you lead.

When your lips parted, both of you are catching for your breath. You stare at Katsuki's mesmerizing face before you with his eyes glistening. "Now that was a perfect example of how you spoil me."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ༶•┈ by yel0ngkape ┈•༶ i accept requests, so feel free to reach out! ♡

[misaerabl]

Down, Girl

CONTENT: wc…9.7k ✦ toxic reader, loser ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), reader riding ellies face, fingering (both receiving), you eat ellie out in the bathroom, reader is a freak, more commanding, possessive, and is a bitch to everyone, uh you didn’t let her cum, reader guilt tripping ellie. SUMMARY: Ellie has always been yours—pathetic, desperate, following you around like a stray dog hoping for scraps. She worships you, does whatever you say, lets you push her around because she thinks maybe one day, you’ll love her back. You just like the attention. But then something shifts. Ellie starts pulling away, making friends that aren’t you, not always answering when you call. She’s still there, still yours, but she’s hesitating. You can’t have that. So you remind her—she belongs to you.

February 8, Afternoon.

You’re used to having Ellie right where you want her.

It’s almost funny, how easy it is. You press a little, and she bends. You pull, and she follows. Always so eager, always so desperate. It’s adorable, really. The way she watches you like you’re something holy. Like she’s lucky just to be near you.

You lean against her locker, waiting. The hallway is loud, but you don’t hear any of it. You’re too focused on the fact that she’s late. She’s never late.

She shows up two minutes later, looking like she rushed over. “Hey,” she breathes, pushing her hair back, shifting under your gaze.

You tilt your head. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Ellie scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, I—uh, I had to finish something.”

Your eyes flick over her, taking in the way she won’t quite meet your gaze. She looks guilty. She should.

You step closer, your voice honeyed but sharp. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Her head snaps up, wide-eyed. “No! No, I just—”

You hum, watching her squirm. Cute. “Good.”

You don’t have to say anything else. Ellie falls in step with you like always. Like she doesn’t even realize you just put a leash back around her neck.

You met Ellie Williams when you were thirteen.

Back then, she was just some scrawny, awkward kid with too many freckles and a closet full of ugly hoodies. The kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the background of a school photo, forgotten as soon as the camera flashed.

You were different. You had a presence—one that people noticed. And Ellie? She noticed you the most.

You don’t remember the exact moment she started following you around. It just happened. One day, she was a classmate. The next, she was yours.

It started small. She’d let you copy her homework, save you a seat at lunch, carry your things without you asking. She never expected anything in return. She just wanted to be close to you.

You liked that.

So you let her in, just enough to keep her hooked. Just enough to make her think she had a chance.

Now, years later, nothing has changed.

Ellie still follows you like a lost dog, still waits for your texts, still lights up when you so much as look at her. You let her sleep in your bed sometimes—when you’re feeling generous. You let her drive you places, take care of you when you’re drunk, clean up your messes.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

But lately, something feels… off.

She hesitates before answering your texts. She doesn’t wait for you after class like she used to. You caught her sitting with some new people at lunch last week. When you asked about it, she stammered out some excuse, but it didn’t matter. You already knew—she was getting comfortable somewhere else.

You can’t have that.

So now, as you walk beside her, your fingers brush over hers—light, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch.

“Missed you,” you murmur, voice sweet. “You’ve been distant.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I haven’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

You grip her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the hallway. She looks down at you, startled.

You smile, tilting your head. “Then don’t.”

She nods. Just like that, the hesitation is gone. Just like that, she’s yours again.

Good girl.

Ellie’s house is small, lived-in, the kind of place that smells like old books, laundry detergent, and whatever air freshener her aunt picked up from the store that week. It’s familiar. You’ve been here more times than you can count, curled up on her bed, stealing her hoodies, making yourself at home like you own the place.

You do own it—at least, the parts that matter.

Ellie sits on the floor, back against the couch, guitar balanced on her thigh. Her fingers move over the strings absentmindedly, plucking a tune you don’t recognize. Her head is bowed, auburn hair falling over her face. She looks calm, focused. Content.

She should be looking at you.

You shift slightly, adjusting the little boy in your lap. Luke is Ellie’s half-brother, a quiet kid who took to you the way most people do—easily, naturally, like it’s impossible not to. Right now, he’s holding onto your wrist with his small hands, playing with the bracelets on it as he leans against you.

You hum, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “Ellie,” you say, dragging out her name just a little, letting it settle in the air.

Her fingers falter against the strings. She looks up, eyes flicking to yours immediately, like muscle memory.

“Play something I know,” you say, voice soft. Sweet.

Ellie nods without question, shifting the guitar, adjusting her grip. She starts playing again, and this time, the song is familiar—one she knows you like, one she’s played for you before, late at night when it was just the two of you.

You smile, satisfied.

Luke tugs on your sleeve. “Sing,” he says, tilting his head up at you.

You laugh, ruffling his hair. “I don’t sing, baby.”

He pouts. “Ellie says you do.”

Your gaze snaps to her. She freezes, caught.

You raise a brow, smirking. “You been talking about me, Williams?”

Ellie clears her throat, looking away, ears tinged pink. “Just—just mentioned it.”

Cute.

You lean back against the couch, letting Luke curl against you, your gaze still on Ellie. She keeps playing, but you can tell she’s distracted now, too aware of your eyes on her.

Good.

She was starting to forget her place. But that’s alright—you’ll just have to remind her.

Ellie’s room smells like her. A mix of faintly sweet vanilla and something sharp, like the lemon-scented cleaning spray her mom always insists on using. Her bed is unmade, as usual, a pile of mismatched blankets and clothes scattered around the floor. The space is small, but it’s hers. Her little kingdom.

And right now, it’s just the two of you—her sitting at the edge of the bed, fiddling with her fingers, her knees drawn up to her chest. You sit across from her, lounging in the chair by her desk, legs stretched out, letting your fingers lightly tap the rhythm of a song you’ve been listening to on repeat.

You watch her. You always watch her.

Her hands keep moving, an unconscious twitch, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, her fingers tracing circles on her knee. She looks away from you, a little too quickly, as if she’s trying to avoid your gaze.

You raise an eyebrow. Nervous again, huh?

It’s cute.

"What's going on?" you ask, leaning forward slightly, letting your voice fall soft but sharp, like a thread pulling her closer to you.

Ellie shifts her weight, finally looking up at you, her brown eyes wide. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but she hesitates, just long enough to make it obvious. You know she’s working up the nerve. You know she’s always working up the nerve when it comes to you.

"Just…thinking," she says, voice quiet, almost sheepish.

You can’t help the smirk that curls on your lips. “Thinking? About what, Ellie?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lip and continues to fidget, her thumb rubbing over the top of her knuckles in that rhythmic, nervous way you’ve come to recognize. It’s a habit, a tell. One of many.

You wait, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to disappoint you," she says suddenly, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

Your breath catches in your chest, but you don’t let her see it. Instead, you stand up slowly, taking a few steps toward her, watching the way her posture shifts, like she’s waiting for something.

You kneel in front of her, just close enough that she has to meet your eyes. You don’t speak at first. Instead, you reach out and gently touch her hands, making her stop fidgeting.

Her fingers freeze, the muscles in her shoulders stiffening. She still won’t look at you.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat softly, voice low and teasing. You let the words linger, making her feel the weight of them. "You know I don't like when you do that."

Her eyes dart up to meet yours, and for a moment, you see the tiniest flicker of fear in them—like she’s scared of what you might do if she does disappoint you.

You smile, that same sweet, dangerous smile. "You won’t disappoint me, Ellie. You can’t."

Her breath hitches, and for a second, you think she might say something else—something more. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just lets you pull her hands into yours, squeezing them gently, her heart racing beneath her chest. She’s waiting for you to speak again, to tell her what she needs to do next.

You whisper, “Good girl.”

Her shoulders finally relax, just a little, but her gaze stays locked on yours, like she’s trying to read your mind.

You stand, dragging her with you, pulling her close enough so she can feel the heat of your body against hers. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly, letting your lips brush against her temple.

“You’re mine, Ellie,” you murmur, low and quiet, just for her. “Always have been.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You both know the truth.

You take a step back, letting her breathe, but you don’t go far. She follows your every movement with her eyes, like she’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add, just to remind her.

The relief in her eyes is unmistakable. She’s not sure what you want from her, but she knows she’ll give it.

And that’s exactly how you like it.

Ellie is still looking at you like that—like you hung the damn moon, like she’ll do anything to keep you happy, like she wants to be owned.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t fight it. She never has.

You’re still close, her hands limp in yours, like she’s waiting for you to decide what happens next. Always waiting on you.

And maybe—maybe you should remind her why.

You hum softly, tilting your head. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

Ellie swallows, her jaw clenching slightly. She looks down, and you know—you know—she’s trying to gather herself, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words.

She never gets the chance.

You lift a hand to her chin, gently tilting her face back up to you. “Ellie.”

Your voice is softer now, coaxing.

She meets your eyes, and for a second, she’s just staring—like she’s trying to memorize you, trying to understand what you want from her.

You let the moment stretch, let the silence settle heavy between you, before you speak again.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?”

It’s not really a question. You both know the answer.

Ellie’s breath shudders, and she nods.

You tighten your grip on her chin, just slightly. “Words.”

She exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I’m yours.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips.

Good girl.

You don’t give her time to think—you move before she can, leaning in, closing the space between you. You kiss her like she belongs to you, like you need her to understand it.

And fuck—Ellie melts.

She lets out the smallest noise against your lips, her hands gripping at your waist, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away too soon. You don’t. You press in closer, one hand slipping into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

She’s so easy for you. So desperate.

You deepen the kiss, swallowing the tiny gasps she makes, reveling in the way she’s already pliant, already giving you everything you want without hesitation.

When you finally pull away, Ellie is breathless, flushed, her lips red and swollen. Her eyes stay locked on yours, wide and dazed, like she still hasn’t caught up to what just happened.

You grin, dragging your thumb over her bottom lip. “Still thinking?”

Ellie swallows hard. “Not really.”

You laugh softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek, then to her jaw, just because you can. Because she lets you.

Because she’s yours.

February 9th, Evening. 

The party is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the hum of conversations, the clinking of drinks, the occasional burst of laughter from the kitchen. The air smells like cheap beer and something vaguely sweet—someone must’ve brought those shitty fruit-flavored vape pens everyone’s been obsessed with.

You barely notice any of it.

Abby fucking Anderson is pressed against you, arms wrapped lazily around your waist, her lips brushing against your neck every now and then. She’s warm, solid—her grip firm, like she knows she can have you if she wants. And maybe she can.

You let her hold you. Let her lean in close as you talk to—Sierra? Sidney? Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is. The host, too busy with the party to care that Abby’s hands are sliding lower, her fingers digging into your hips.

You smirk, amused.

Abby’s been flirting with you all night, making it obvious, shameless. She’s charming, in a way that comes easy—cocky but not overbearing, confident in the way that only someone who’s used to winning can be. The way she looks at you makes it clear she knows she could have you. That if she tried a little harder, pushed just a little more—

And then you see her.

Ellie.

Tucked away in the corner, half-hidden behind the couch, talking to some girl you don’t recognize.

Fidgeting.

Nervous.

Almost… blushing?

Your stomach tightens.

She doesn’t see you watching her, too focused on whatever the girl is saying, nodding along, lips twitching into an awkward little smile.

And suddenly, Abby’s touch doesn’t feel as interesting anymore.

Your jaw clenches, fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Ellie looks—fuck, she looks comfortable. Like she’s not thinking about you. Like she’s not waiting for you to notice her. Like she’s—

No.

You pull away from Abby, ignoring the way she raises an eyebrow at you. Your drink is still in your hand, but you barely register it, your focus narrowing in on Ellie, on the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot, playing with the rings on her fingers, nodding along to whatever the girl is saying.

Like you aren’t even here.

Like she’s forgetting who she belongs to.

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

“I’ll be back,” you murmur, already taking a step away.

Abby scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Where are you even—”

You don’t let her finish. “Relax, Anderson,” you say, turning to glance at her over your shoulder. “Go find someone else to grope.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, but she doesn’t stop you. She knows better than to push when you’ve already lost interest.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way to Ellie, purposeful, sharp. The girl she’s talking to—Dina, apparently—is still speaking, something animated, something that has Ellie nodding, shifting from foot to foot like she’s actually engaged in the conversation.

How cute.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Oh, there you are,” you drawl, stepping into their space without so much as a second thought. You barely glance at Dina, eyes locked on Ellie. “Didn’t realize you wandered off. Got bored of waiting for me, baby?”

Ellie stiffens, her hand twitching at her side. “I—”

“She doesn’t have to wait for you.”

Dina cuts in, arms crossed, glaring up at you like she actually thinks she has a say in this. You raise an eyebrow, finally sparing her a proper look.

Excuse me?

Ellie shifts beside her, awkward, rubbing the back of her neck.

Dina scoffs. “Do you just—let her talk to you like that?” She turns to Ellie fully, disbelief written all over her face. “Like, seriously? You just let her push you around?”

You tilt your head, watching Ellie, waiting.

She knows what to do.

And of course—your good girl never disappoints.

Ellie scratches her cheek, glancing between the two of you, and then—she shrugs. “It’s not—” She hesitates. “It’s not really like that.”

Dina’s expression darkens, her frown deepening. “It kinda is like that, Ellie.”

Your patience thins.

Your lips curl into something amused, something condescending, as you step just a little closer, tilting your head at Dina like she’s a fucking pest.

“Who even is this skank?”

Ellie flinches. Dina’s expression twists.

You smile.

Ellie clears her throat, glancing at Dina apologetically before mumbling, “Uh—this is Dina. She’s a—uh, she’s a scholar.”

You barely blink. “Cool.” You turn back to Ellie, gaze dark. “We need to talk.”

Ellie swallows hard. “I—”

You grab her wrist, firm, but not rough. Not yet. “Now.”

Ellie hesitates for a moment, but then—then she nods, letting you pull her along without protest.

Good girl.

You don’t even look back at Dina as you lead Ellie down the hall, pushing open the first unlocked door you find—a bathroom, small and dimly lit.

Perfect.

You shove Ellie inside, stepping in after her, closing the door with a sharp click.

She shifts on her feet, rubbing her arm, looking at you like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Smart girl.

You cross your arms, gaze hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Ellie shifts under your gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact like she’s some fucking schoolgirl getting scolded.

You step closer.

She tenses.

“Since when do you wander off?” you ask, voice sharp. It’s not loud—doesn’t need to be—but it’s firm, edged with something that makes Ellie shrink a little, pressing her back against the sink.

She swallows. “I—I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“You just what?”

She flinches at the bite in your tone.

Your head tilts, arms crossed, waiting.

Ellie exhales, rubbing at her jaw. “I had to use the bathroom,” she mumbles. “And then—uh—Dina was outside, and we just… started talking.”

Your jaw clenches.

She’s never done this before. Never just drifted away from you. Usually, at these parties, she stays put—sits in the corner, waits, watches, like a good girl. Until you decide you’re done with everyone else. Until you tell her it’s time to go.

But this?

This won’t do.

You scoff. “And what, you forgot about me?”

Ellie’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No! I—I didn’t forget, I was just—”

You take another step, crowding her against the sink.

She shuts up immediately.

Good.

Your fingers lift to her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at you. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parting slightly, breath shaky.

You hum, fingers tracing along her jaw, light, teasing. “You know better, don’t you, baby?”

She nods quickly, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Your grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“Say it,” you murmur.

Ellie swallows, cheeks flushed. “I—I know better.”

You smile. “That’s my good girl.”

But she still needs to learn.

Ellie barely has time to react before you push her back, hands firm on her hips, guiding her onto the edge of the sink. Her breath stutters, hands gripping the porcelain as she looks at you—wide-eyed, confused.

“W-What—”

You drop to your knees in front of her.

Ellie freezes.

Her fingers twitch against the sink, chest rising and falling a little too fast, a little too shallow. She swallows hard, staring down at you like she can’t quite process what’s happening.

You tilt your head, running your hands up her thighs, slow, teasing. “You need to learn, don’t you, baby?”

Ellie nods automatically, like it’s instinct.

You smirk. “Then let me teach you.”

Your hands find the edge of her pants, you tug it slightly 

“Take it Off.” 

She hesitates, eyes flickering between yours, searching—maybe for reassurance, maybe for a way out. As if she doesn’t already know there isn’t one. As if she doesn’t already belong to you.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Your gaze stays firm, unwavering, expectant.

Ellie exhales sharply, hands hovering at the waistband of her jeans, fingers gripping the fabric like she’s still weighing her options. But you both know there’s only one.

Slowly, she complies.

She was wearing some black and grey boxers, you smile as you watch her. “Those come off too, Ellie.” 

Ellie's face burns as she looks down at you, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her boxers. She hesitates for a moment, before pulling them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Her breath comes in short, nervous bursts as she watches you, wondering what you'll do next. Her thighs are clenched together, as if trying to hide herself, though she knows it's pointless.

“Legs open, baby” 

"Mhm," Ellie moans softly as she spreads her legs wider, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. Her cheeks are stained red, eyes watching you carefully. She's fully exposed now - her bare pussy on display, wetness already gathering at her entrance.

You lean in close, breath ghosting over her skin, With one hand, you gather your hair, twisting it up into a makeshift ponytail. Then, without a word, you reach for Ellie’s wrist, guiding her trembling fingers to take over.

Her breath catches.

She doesn’t need you to say it. She knows exactly what you want.

And she obeys.

Ellie's fingers curl around the base of your ponytail, her grip tentative at first, before tightening as she becomes more confident. She pulls your head forward, guiding your face towards her dripping wet pussy. "Oh god," she whispers, her voice shaking.

You bury your face between Ellie's thighs, your tongue diving straight into her slick folds. She cries out, fingers tightening in your hair as she rocks her hips forward, seeking more contact. Your tongue laps at her clit, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into your mouth.

Ellie's moans grow louder as you expertly work her clit, her hips rolling desperately against your face. Wetness coats your chin as her juices flow freely. One hand grips your hair tighter, while the other covers her mouth to muffle her increasingly shameless noises.

You slip a finger inside her, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes her see stars. Ellie's legs shake as she grinds down onto your hand and mouth, chasing her release. She bites down hard on her lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..." her words come out as whispers between gasps, her hips moving in small, desperate circles against your face. She can feel her orgasm approaching, her body tensing. Her legs threaten to give out completely as you ravage her. "I'm gonna…”

But then—just as she starts to tremble—you pull away.

Ellie barely has time to react before you wipe the liquid from your mouth with the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that makes her breath hitch. Her hand still lingers in your hair until you slap it away, standing back up like nothing happened.

She just looks at you. Panting. Pleading.

Why the fuck did you stop?

The question is written all over her face—eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted, body still tense, waiting.

You just smile, tilting your head as you run a teasing finger along her flushed cheek.

“Maybe next time,” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. Then, leaning in just enough for her to feel your breath against her ear—

“When you didn’t piss me off.”

Ellie swallows hard, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Let her stay like that. Let her ache for it.

February 13, Morning

The café is warm, filled with the quiet hum of conversation, the clinking of cups against saucers, the rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your laptop’s keyboard. Outside, the sky is overcast, a dull gray that matches your mood.

You sip your coffee, glancing at the time. Ellie’s late.

She always is.

But eventually, the door chimes, and there she is—messy auburn hair tucked under a beanie, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoodie slightly oversized on her frame. She spots you, and something flickers in her expression, something unreadable, before she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, dropping into the seat across from you, rubbing her palms together like she’s cold.

“Hey,” you echo, closing your laptop. She smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne, like she just came from somewhere she doesn’t want you asking about. But you don’t press—yet.

Things feel normal. Like you didn’t have your lips on her five days ago. Like you didn’t have her trembling for you in some grimy bathroom four days ago.

You talk about nothing for a while, easy, effortless. Then, casually, you ask—

“So, what are we doing tomorrow?”

Ellie freezes mid-sip, eyes darting up to yours like she just got caught in a lie she hadn’t even told yet.

You laugh, light, amused. “What? Did you forget?”

She swallows, scratches the back of her neck. “Uh. No. I mean, kinda. I just—”

Your amusement fades. “Spit it out, Ellie.”

She shifts in her seat. “Dina and some of the guys invited me to hang.”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head. “And you agreed?”

Ellie exhales, looking away. “I figured you’d be on a date or something.”

You stare at her.

A date.

A date.

The sheer audacity makes your jaw clench, fingers tightening around your coffee cup. Since when have you ever done that? Since when have you ever let some guy take you out on Valentine’s instead of spending time with her?

Ellie finally looks back at you, realization dawning in her eyes as she sees the irritation brewing in yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, voice calm, even, but sharp.

Ellie doesn’t answer. Because she already knows.

Ellie, ever the nervous wreck, tries to salvage it.

“I mean, I—I’ll still come over,” she says quickly. “After. We can hang in the evening.”

You just stare at her.

She’s squirming in her seat, fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting between you and the scratched-up wooden table like she’s waiting for your verdict. Like she knows she fucked up and is just hoping you won’t punish her for it.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed. Then you scoff, shaking your head. “Wow. Lucky me.”

Ellie flinches, the tips of her ears going red. She doesn’t say anything. Of course she doesn’t.

Because she knows—knows—that whatever you say, she’ll do it. You’re already in her head, buried under her skin, wrapped around her ribs like something vital, something she can’t scrape out no matter how hard she tries.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll let this slide.

Your phone is already in your hand before Ellie can say anything else. You don’t even hesitate. If she’s spending time with other people, then so are you.

You scroll through your messages until you find her name.

Abby Anderson.

She replies within minutes. A smug, easy response

Abby : "Thought you weren’t interested."

You smirk.

You : "Changed my mind."

Ellie shifts in her seat, oblivious, still trying to figure out how much trouble she’s in.

Who the fuck does she think she is?

February 14, Valentines

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you smooth out the fabric of your dress. It hugs your body in all the right ways, accentuating everything that Abby will no doubt appreciate.

Abby wasn’t a bad choice. Smart, jacked, and disgustingly wealthy. You knew this date wouldn’t disappoint. She wouldn’t disappoint.

But as you swipe a final coat of lipstick on, as you spritz perfume over your collarbone, as you slide on your heels—your mind isn’t on Abby at all.

It’s on Ellie.

On the fact that she texted you an hour ago— On my way. —like she wanted you to acknowledge it. Like she expected you to care.

You didn’t even respond. Just left her on read.

Because you wanted her anxious. Wanted her restless the whole day. Wanted her checking her phone every five minutes, heart pounding every time the screen lit up, only to be met with silence. You wanted her thinking about you.

But now, as you grab your bag and slip your phone inside, something bitter creeps into your chest.

She’s out there. With them.

Laughing at something Dina says. Maybe fidgeting, maybe stammering, maybe blushing.

You inhale sharply, roll your shoulders back, shake the thought off. It doesn’t matter.

Tonight will be perfect.

Abby will make sure of it.

…But will you?

The restaurant Abby picked was perfect—fancy but not showy. Dim lighting, soft jazz playing in the background, a bottle of wine already chilling at the table before you even sat down. She had everything planned, down to the smallest details.

She picked you up in an expensive car, a sleek black Audi with leather seats that smelled brand new. The kind of car you knew she could replace in a heartbeat without a second thought. She even stepped out to open the door for you, the perfect gentleman.

You posted pictures on your story—subtle flexes. The perfectly plated steak, the candlelit ambiance, the empty wine glasses. But most of them were of you—Abby had taken them, of course. She had an eye for it. The angle just right, your features highlighted in the soft golden light.

And Abby… Abby was undeniably perfect.

She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Knew how to touch you in ways that made your skin warm and your heart beat just a little faster. Her lips brushed against your neck at just the right moment, her fingers grazing your knee under the table in just the right way.

Nothing could ruin this.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But when Abby excused herself—standing with that easy confidence, telling you she’d be right back, that she had another present for you—you pulled out your phone. Just to check. Just to see.

And there it was.

A story.

Ellie.

Drinking.

With Dina.

Some ginger-haired bitch sitting on her lap.

Your grip on your phone tightens.

Your jaw clenches.

Everything else—the restaurant, the wine, the warmth of Abby’s touch—fades into the background.

Ellie doesn’t drink. Not unless she’s nervous, or desperate, or being stupid.

And that girl—who the fuck is she? What the fuck is she doing in Ellie’s lap?

Abby’s voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“Miss me?” she teases, placing a small, elegantly wrapped box on the table.

You glance up at her, then back at your phone.

Your mood has already shifted.

And now, you need a drink.

Abby’s hands were firm on your waist, her grip possessive in a way that most girls would melt under. Her lips moved against yours with purpose, her confidence unwavering—like she knew exactly how this was going to go. Like she was sure you were going to let her in.

Your arms were draped over her broad shoulders, fingers lazily playing with the soft strands of her hair as you deepened the kiss. The night had been perfect. She had been perfect. A bouquet of flowers so big it barely fit in your arms, a new pair of designer heels that she had practically forced you to accept, and an expensive necklace that still sat around your throat, cool against your flushed skin.

Abby made it easy. She never made you wait, never made you feel like you had to chase her, never made you question your place.

So why the fuck were you thinking about Ellie?

Her stupid nervous fidgeting. The way her knee bounced when she was anxious. The way her voice cracked sometimes when she tried to talk back. The way she looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

The way she had someone else on her lap.

Your nails dug into Abby’s shoulders, and she let out a small, amused hum against your lips, mistaking your sudden aggression for passion.

“You’re on me tonight, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled back slightly, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

You should be focused on this. On her. On the way she looked at you like she knew she could have you.

But instead, your phone buzzed.

And you—like a fucking idiot—glanced at the screen over Abby’s shoulder.

Ellie.

“I’m outside. Let me in.”

Your breath hitched.

Abby noticed.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, lips ghosting over hers, but suddenly the air had changed. The control had slipped for just a moment.

And now, you had a choice to make.

You shifted in Abby’s lap, her hands gripping your waist instinctively, like she didn’t want you to move. Her lips were hot against your neck, trailing down, hands sliding over your thighs, her touch deliberate.

Then your phone buzzed again.

You glanced at it, saw the name on the screen, and immediately pushed yourself off Abby, standing up like nothing had happened. She looked up at you, brows furrowed.

"You good?" she asked, voice thick with something unspoken.

"Yeah," you said, brushing your hair back, fixing the straps of your dress like she hadn’t just had her hands all over you. "That was my mom."

Abby’s eyes flickered with something skeptical. "Your mom?"

Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped out of Abby’s car, your arms full of gifts—flowers, designer shoes, jewelry, all things that screamed that you were wanted. Abby leaned against the doorframe of her car, arms crossed over her broad chest, watching you with an expression that teetered between amusement and frustration.

"You sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated. She knew what she was doing, giving you one last chance to let her in.

You smiled, soft but firm. "I’ll text you."

She held your gaze for a moment longer, like she was trying to see if you were bullshitting her, but ultimately, she nodded. "Alright," she murmured. One last time, she stepped forward, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your lips—slow, deliberate. Like a silent reminder that she had been here first tonight.

You let her, even smiled against her lips, before pulling away and wiping the smudged lipstick from her face.

"Goodnight, Abby," you said, voice sweet, final.

You turned on your heel, the weight of her gaze burning into your back as you made your way into the building, clutching the expensive gifts she had given you like they meant something.

But by the time you reached your door, all of it—the necklace, the shoes, the flowers—felt heavy. Unimportant.

Because Ellie was here.

Waiting.

Just like she always did.

You saw her tuck her phone away, her gaze flickering over the gifts in your arms—the bouquet, the neatly wrapped designer bags, the weight of the night still lingering on your skin.

Then, you watched as it clicked.

Ellie’s jaw tightened just slightly. "You were on a date."

It wasn’t a question.

You just hummed, shifting the weight in your arms. She stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, let me take those."

You didn’t argue, handing her the heavy bouquet first. When you leaned in to pass it to her, your perfume mixed with the faint traces of expensive cologne clinging to your skin. Ellie inhaled instinctively.

And there it was.

Familiar, but not yours.

She knew that scent.

Abigail Anderson.

You ignored the way her fingers twitched when she took the bouquet from you, brushing past her as you unlocked the door. "Just leave it on the coffee table," you murmured, voice light, like this was any other night.

She did as you said, but you could feel the weight of her stare the whole time.

You walked into your room, slipping off your heels. Ellie followed, wordlessly taking a seat on your bed as you went to your vanity. You caught her gaze in the mirror—steady, sharp, calculating.

You started getting unready, removing your earrings first.

"Soo..." she finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "You were with... Abby?"

You saw the way her hands curled into the sheets at her sides. The way she tried to keep her voice casual.

You smirked.

This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, I figured if I was gonna spend Valentine’s with anyone, it should be her..."

Your voice was smooth, deliberate—each word sharpened just enough to cut. Like Abby was the only one who deserved your time. Like you hadn't even considered spending it with Ellie.

Why should you? It wasn’t your fault she had other plans. She blew you off first. She chose to be at some party, surrounded by people who weren’t you. Chose to let some girl—some nobody—sit on her lap like she belonged there.

Ellie doesn’t say anything at first. You see the way she tenses, fingers curling against the hem of her hoodie. Her knee bounces, jaw clenched like she’s trying to keep herself together, trying to be unaffected. But then she huffs out a breath, all forced nonchalance, and leans back on her palms.

"Right," she mutters, nodding slightly, like she’s convincing herself more than responding to you. "Makes sense. She’s, like... perfect, huh?"

There’s something in her voice that makes you pause—something bitter, something jealous. And it satisfies you.

ou unclip your earrings, dropping them onto the vanity with a soft clink. "Well, yeah," you say simply. "She knows exactly what to do, what to say... how to treat me."

Ellie’s jaw tightens.

You smirk at her reflection in the mirror. That got to her.

"She bought me all this, by the way." You gesture lazily to the designer shoes, the necklace glinting under the light, the massive bouquet sitting on your coffee table. "Really went all out. I mean, not that I’m surprised."

Ellie swallows, looking away. Her fingers fidget in her lap, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie.

"So," she starts, voice quieter now, "you had a good time, then?"

You twist your lip in amusement, watching her through the mirror. "I did."

Ellie nods again, but she doesn’t look convinced. She’s avoiding your gaze now, staring hard at the floor, at the carpet, at anything but you.

Good. Let her wallow in it. Let her sit in the weight of it, in the consequences of her choices.

You turn around, arms crossing over your chest as you lean against the vanity. "Why do you care?" you ask, tilting your head, studying her.

Ellie flinches, just slightly. She lifts her head, and for a second, she looks like she’s going to deny it—going to say something sarcastic, something dismissive. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she lets out a shaky breath.

"I don’t," she lies.

You smile. "Good."

The room was quiet now. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft rustling of fabric as you moved, slipping off your necklace, tossing it onto the nightstand. The weight of the night clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing down on both of you.

Ellie hadn’t moved from her spot at the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched, fingers tangled together in her lap. She was stiff, tense, like she was forcing herself not to look at you.

And maybe she was.

You were down to just your underwear, skin bare under the warm glow of your bedside lamp. You stood up, moving across the room with slow, deliberate steps, grabbing an oversized shirt from your drawer and tugging it over your head.

When you flopped back onto the bed, right next to where she was sitting, you felt her shift. Barely. Just the tiniest movement, like she was reacting to your closeness without meaning to.

You turned your head, looking at her. She was staring at her hands now, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of your comforter.

You smirked.

"What?" you drawled.

Ellie shook her head. "Nothing."

"Liar."

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to collect herself. Her knee bounced again, her nervous energy filling the space between you.

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. "You mad?"

Ellie scoffed, finally looking at you. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

You hummed, tilting your head. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause I spent Valentine’s with someone else?"

Her jaw clenched. There it was again—that flicker of something, jealousy twisting its way across her face before she could shove it down.

You smiled, slow and smug.

"I mean," you continued, drawing out your words, "you were so busy today, after all. Out with Dina, drinking, letting some random girl sit on your lap—"

"She wasn’t—" Ellie groaned, running a hand down her face. "Jesus, are you serious right now?"

You shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ellie looked at you then, really looked at you, green eyes sharp and searching. The tension between you both was suffocating, crackling like a live wire, like a fire waiting to ignite.

And then—

She reached out, fingers brushing against your thigh, just barely, just enough to make you aware of the heat in her touch.

You inhaled sharply.

Ellie smirked this time, tilting her head as her fingers lingered. "You don’t actually think I give a shit about Abby—do you?"

You laughed. Not loud—just a quiet, amused little chuckle under your breath. Like the thought of Ellie even comparing herself to Abby was so ridiculous, it was funny.

"God," you sighed, shaking your head, still smirking. "You’re so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ellie frowned but didn’t argue.

"Lay down," you told her.

She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should, but then she did—slowly easing onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her answers.

You turned onto your side, elbow sinking into the mattress, head propped up on your hand as you looked at her. Studied her.

"You really think I would’ve picked her over you?" you murmured, dragging the words out, letting them settle.

Ellie tensed.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Wow. And here I was, thinking you knew me better than that."

She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her hands fisted the hem of her hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needed something to hold onto.

"I mean, I guess I did have a nice time," you continued, voice featherlight, tipping closer to her. "The restaurant was beautiful. Expensive as hell. Abby’s just so... put together, you know?"

Ellie’s jaw clenched.

"And she was so sweet. Got me all these gifts, picked out the prettiest necklace—"

You reached up, dragging your fingers lightly across your collarbone where the necklace should be. You knew she was looking.

"And God, she was so..." You trailed off, exhaling a small, pleased hum. "Perfect."

Ellie inhaled sharply through her nose.

You smirked. Got her.

"But I guess you don’t care, huh?" you added, faux-disappointed. "You were too busy with Dina and your little party. Guess I was just supposed to sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie’s brows pinched. She turned her head toward you, finally meeting your eyes, guilt flickering behind the green.

You just blinked at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.

She swallowed. "I—"

"No, it’s fine." You exhaled through your nose, like you had just made peace with something disappointing. "I mean, if you don’t care, you don’t care. I won’t force you to."

Ellie flinched. "I— That’s not what I—"

You shook your head, shifting onto your back, staring at the ceiling now too. "Forget it, Ellie. Just forget it."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Ellie stared at you, at the way your face was turned away from her now, at the way you had just shut her out.

She hated it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Ellie didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You could feel her eyes on you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Good. She should feel that way.

You sighed, shaking your head like you were just so disappointed in her. Then, before she could even react, you shifted—climbing over her, straddling her waist, pressing her into the mattress.

Ellie’s breath hitched. Her hands twitched at her sides, like she wanted to grab your hips but knew better.

"God," you murmured, staring down at her, fingers dragging up her chest, curling into the fabric of her hoodie. "You’re such an idiot."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—"

"You didn’t even think to ask me what I was doing on Valentine's?" you cut her off, tilting your head, voice low and sharp. "Just assumed I’d be off on some date like some desperate little bitch? Like I don’t always spend that day with you?"

Ellie flinched. "No— I—I just thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you spat. "You thought you could ditch me, spend your night with Dina and whoever the fuck else, and I’d just sit around and wait for you?"

Ellie looked away. "I didn’t mean—"

"Shut up," you hissed.

She did.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her lips, your fingers tightening around her hoodie. Her hands clenched into fists against the sheets, body completely tense beneath you.

"I bet you didn’t even care what I was doing," you murmured, voice laced with venom. "Didn’t even think about me while you were at that party, huh?"

Ellie’s breath came out shaky, her eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I did," she whispered.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? That’s why you had some bitch on your lap, right?"

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "That wasn’t—"

"You’re so fucking selfish," you continued, fingers dragging down her chest, over her stomach, stopping just above her belt. "You get to go off, do whatever you want, and I’m just supposed to sit around and be fine with it?"

Ellie was breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling beneath you, her hands twitching against the sheets. She wanted to say something. You could tell.

But she didn’t.

Because you were right.

You tilted your head, your fingers curling around the collar of her hoodie, yanking her attention back to you.

“What happened, Ellie, huh?” Your voice was smooth, dripping like honey but firm, unwavering. "You're mine."

Ellie stayed silent, staring up at you like you were something holy, something dangerous.

"Are you fucking stupid, or did you forget?" You dragged your nails up her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at you.

Her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling like she was struggling to breathe.

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t. What could she even say? That she knew she fucked up? That she knew you had every right to be mad? That she hated the thought of you with Abby, hated that you went on a date, hated that you let her kiss you?

Ellie was selfish like that. Always was.

She just kept staring at you, eyes dark, full of something between guilt and desperation.

And you smirked, because of course she wasn’t going to fight you on this.

Then, slowly, you leaned down.

Her breath hitched the second your lips brushed against hers, barely even touching before she was already reacting—lifting her head to chase your mouth, hands twitching like she wanted to grab you but knew she wasn’t allowed to.

You let her suffer for a second, just hovering, letting your breath tease her, watching her fall apart before you even gave her anything.

Then, finally, you kissed her.

Ellie let out this soft, broken sound—something between a whimper and a sigh—like she’d been holding her breath since the moment you climbed on top of her.

She kissed you back instantly, desperate, needy, like she had something to prove, like she was trying to apologize without saying a single word.

But you weren’t gonna make it easy for her.

You pulled back just as quick, barely giving her a second of relief before you were already ripping it away.

Ellie’s lips were parted, her breath uneven, pupils blown as she stared up at you, dazed, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to move or if she had to wait for you to give her permission.

God, she was so fucking easy.

You pulled back completely, watching the way Ellie instinctively followed, like she wanted to chase after you but forced herself to stay put.

Then, without a word, you climbed off her, settling beside her on the bed. You didn’t look at her at first, just leaning back on your hands, legs crossed at the ankles, letting the silence stretch long enough for her to start squirming.

Ellie stayed on her back, still staring at the ceiling, but you could see her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles going white.

Then you finally spoke.

"You’re gonna make it up to me."

Ellie stiffened. Her head slowly turned to you, eyes flicking over your face, searching for something—anger, maybe, or some kind of mercy—but all you had was that same unreadable smirk.

You tilted your head, watching her. "You do wanna make it up to me, don’t you?"

Ellie nodded instantly, sitting up slightly. "Yeah. Of course."

You smiled, pleased.

"Good," you said, voice smooth, tapping your fingers against your thigh. "Then listen carefully."

Ellie looked wrecked. Like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to explain, but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to test you when you were like this.

"You ruined this day for me, Ellie. You hear me?" Your voice was steady, sharp. "God. You had fun without me? Let some girl sit on your lap that wasn’t me?" You scoffed, shaking your head like the thought alone was disgusting.

Ellie flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. "No—"

"And best of all," you interrupted, leaning in, "you came to my door, right when I was gonna let Abby in." You tilted your head, watching the way Ellie’s face froze. You let that sink in before delivering the final blow. "Let her have me."

You were lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.

Ellie’s breathing had gone shallow, her whole body stiff, jaw clenched. You could see the jealousy rising in her, the way her hands twitched like she didn’t know what to do with them.

"So," you continued, calm, tilting her chin up with your fingers so she’d look at you, so she’d really understand. "You’re gonna make up for all that. Do you get it?"

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, and nodded. "Yeah," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "I get it."

She watches as you sit up, lifting your hips to remove your panties. She swallows hard, waiting for you. 

Ellie barely had time to react before you shifted, grabbing onto the headboard as you moved, positioning yourself just above her face.

Her breath hitched, her hands gripping at the sheets like she was waiting for permission—waiting for you to tell her what to do.

"You want to make it up to me, right?" Your voice was teasing, low, but there was no room for argument.

Ellie nodded, her pupils blown wide as she looked up at you, desperate, waiting.

"Then do it."

As you move into position and take off your shirt and bra, straddling her face with your bare pussy hovering just above her mouth, Ellie's heart races. She looks up at you, her hands slowly reach up, grasping your hips gently.

That's your good girl. 

Your hips begin to move, rolling and grinding against Ellie's mouth. She grips your hips tighter, spreading her legs wider beneath you. She sticks her tongue out, catching your clit with the tip. You moan softly, riding her face faster. She hums softly, taking your movements like a champ.

Ellie's fingers dig into your hips possessively as you bounce on her face. Wet noises fill the room - your pussy smacking against her mouth, her sloppy suction sounds. She sticks her tongue deep inside you, making you moan loudly. 

You can feel her nose pressing against your clit with every downward thrust. The angle lets you grind harder against her tongue, chasing your orgasm. She looks up at you with glazed, fuck-drunk eyes, completely devoted to pleasuring you. Just like how it should be.

You loved her like this—obedient, eager, desperate to please. Making you feel better, making you feel good—she fucking should.

She was yours. And after that shit she pulled today, God, it was only right for her to make it up to you.

Her hands gripped your thighs like she was holding on for dear life, her breath hot against your skin, her eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. And you were.

“Better make this count, Ellie,” you murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, threading your fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to make her whimper.

“Because I’m still so fucking mad at you.”

Your movements become more erratic as you near the edge. Ellie's fingers flex against your hips, helping to support you as you ride her face with abandon. She can feel you getting closer, your pussy clenching around her tongue. She doubles her efforts, determined to make you come undone.

You throw your head back, arching your back as you reach the peak. Ellie opens her mouth wider, catching your release as it gushes out. She swallows hungrily, trying to drink every drop as you shudder and tremble above her. "Mmmphhh…”

You slowly come down from your high, your pussy still twitching as the last waves of your orgasm subside. Ellie keeps her mouth pressed against your folds, licking up every bit of your juices. Finally, she pulls away, her lips shiny and glistening.

 "Good girl, but we're not done yet baby” 

She looks up at you, doe eyed. A small amount of your juices drip down her chin. She licks her lips, swallowing the excess. She hummed, her voice soft and submissive, clearly eager to please you further. 

Ellie obediently sits up, pulling her hoodie over her head and tossing it aside. She reveals her breasts. Crawling onto the bed, she positions herself above you, her knees straddling your hips.

She offers her hand to you, palm up. You spit into her palm, and she looks down at the saliva, then back up at you with a confused expression. You guide her fingers towards your center. She slowly inserts her fingers inside you, curling them upwards at your instruction.

As she fingers you, her other hand reaches up to play with her own breasts. She pinches and rolls her nipples between her fingers, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips start to rock slightly, grinding against your thigh. She's clearly getting turned on from pleasuring you.

You feel her fingers moving faster, more confidently inside you. She's learning quickly, hitting your spots just right. Her other hand leaves her breast to reach down, spreading your lips open so she can watch her fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, pushing your hips down to meet her fingers. "God yes," you moan softly. She watches your reactions closely, seeing your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your quickened breath. Her fingers curl again, making you buck your hips sharply. "Right there," you gasp.

Pressing hard and rubbing. "Jesus," you moan loudly, your back arching slightly. She sees how wet you're getting, how your body responds to her touch. She adds another finger, stretching you. Your inner thighs tighten, your heels dig into the mattress.

Ellie curls her fingers deeply inside you, her palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, a breathy moan leaving your lips as you grind against her hand shamelessly. "So Beautiful," she whispers in awe, feeling your arousal coating her fingers.

She leans down, her face hovering over your breast. Without breaking eye contact, she sticks out her tongue, circling your nipple teasingly before sucking it into her mouth.

Her fingers move faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over while her palm maintains constant pressure on your clit. Your breasts heave with each laborious breath, legs trembling as another orgasm builds. "Oh fuck..." She notices your approaching climax and curls her fingers even deeper.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, she realizes how good she's become at pleasing you. Your moans get louder, more insistent…

With a choked gasp, you surrender to your climax, your pussy clamping down hard around Ellie's fingers. She continues to stroke you through your orgasm, prolonging every last shudder and twitch. As your release subsides, she slowly withdraws her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to lick clean.

Ellie swallowed, her lips still glossy, her eyes still blown wide as she looked up at you. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, trying to steady herself, but you weren’t going to let her think this was over.

“How was that?” she asked, voice raspier than usual, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear you say it.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully, dragging your fingers along her jaw, down her throat, feeling how she tensed under your touch.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice slow, teasing. Then you leaned in, close enough that your breath tickled her skin before you pulled back again, smirking.

“But don’t think I’ve already forgiven you.”

tag list ! : @reinam00n @macaroni676 @blackdykegirlblogger @monki-nat

[munsonsmixtapes]

The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on. 

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school. 

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times. 

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl. 

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does. 

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. 

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember. 

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you. 

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move. 

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate. 

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town. 

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in. 

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches. 

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb. 

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief. 

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly. 

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together. 

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen. 

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin. 

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high. 

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses. 

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this. 

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his. 

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high. 

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing. 

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax. 

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

[lazysoulwriter]

In the Quiet Moments - Drew Starkey.

She hadn’t realized how long it had been until she saw the calendar on the wall. Almost a month. A whole month since she’d felt Drew’s touch, heard his laughter echoing in her apartment, or seen the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. The constant whirlwind of interviews, photo shoots, and events had swept him away, and she tried to convince herself she understood. His career was booming, and the attention he was getting was deserved—he worked so hard for it. But that didn’t make it any easier.

She sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone, but the truth weighed heavily on her heart. She was fine on the surface, managing work and life just as she always had, but underneath it all, there was this ache. A quiet loneliness that had crept in, something she hadn’t felt before when he was around. Drew had always been a constant—his presence, his voice, his smile. Now, it felt like he was slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried to hold on.

She knew the game. She knew how it worked. Drew wasn’t the first person in her life to put their career first. But with him, it felt different. There was something unspoken between them, a bond that had never been just casual, even though they weren’t officially anything. Yet.

The pain of the distance between them didn’t come from lack of affection; it came from the lack of him. She missed the way he’d brush her hair from her face as they laughed about some silly thing, or how he’d reach for her hand during those quiet moments when they didn’t need to say anything at all.

Her phone buzzed with another notification, but she ignored it. The screen blurred as her thoughts wandered to him again. To Drew. She hadn’t heard from him in a few days—no surprise, given the hectic schedule he’d been navigating. But as much as she tried to bury the feeling, a part of her longed to hear his voice. To be in his arms. Just to know he was still there.

She took a deep breath, convincing herself she was being ridiculous. He had his reasons. She would wait. She could be patient.

But then, the sound of the doorbell rang out, sharp and unexpected.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, not at this hour. Hesitantly, she stood up, her feet carrying her to the door. She opened it without thinking twice, and there he was—Drew. Standing on her doorstep, his face softer than usual, eyes slightly downcast. He wore that familiar pouty face, the one he always did when he knew he’d messed up or let something slide. But now, it felt different. It was almost as if he was apologizing without saying a word.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She just moved aside, silently inviting him in. Drew stepped over the threshold, but neither of them said anything at first.

The silence in the room felt heavy, thick with all the things they hadn’t said, all the emotions they’d kept buried. Drew shifted, running a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on the floor, not sure how to begin.

“I know I’ve been… distant,” Drew said, his voice low, but clear. He didn’t need to say more. She already knew. “I just… I got caught up in everything. And I know that’s not fair to you.”

She stayed quiet, watching him with a mix of sadness and understanding. She could see the way he was struggling with his words. He had never been good at expressing his feelings, but this time, it was different. She could tell.

He stepped closer, closing the gap between them, and when he reached for her hands, it felt like an unspoken plea. His fingers brushed against hers, his touch tentative at first, almost as if asking for permission.

“I love you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I know I haven’t shown it the way I should have. And I’m sorry for that. But I love you. And I want to do better. I want to be better… for you. For us.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. Her throat tightened, and her heart swelled. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, but there was also the sting of the last month—the distance, the silence. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was hard.

“I love you too,” she whispered, barely audible. Her voice cracked, betraying the hurt she’d been trying to hide. “But I’m hurt, Drew. I needed you here. I needed us.”

Drew’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know. And I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice filled with regret. “Please… let me make it right. Let me take care of the hurt I’ve caused. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. He was here. He was here, and that meant something. It meant he hadn’t given up on them, even if he’d been lost in his world for a while.

Without another word, she let herself be pulled into his arms. Drew wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his warmth flooding through her. She could feel his heart beating against hers, the steady rhythm grounding her. They stood there in silence for a moment, just holding each other, as if they could undo all the hurt by being together again.

And then, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing gently against hers, soft at first, as if testing the waters. But she responded immediately, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if they were both trying to make up for the time lost.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise. A promise to love, to be there, to make things right. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of everything they hadn’t been able to say until now.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting together, Drew’s voice was low and full of emotion. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I promise. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed him.

･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.

[kamospeach]

smokin' weed out the container .ᐟ

plot: plug!ony wants to show a innocent girl how to really spend a friday night

content warning: drug use, black coded, driving under the influence, exhibitionism if you squint, bathroom sex, quickie, fingering, oral f!recieving, size kink if you drag it, standing, backshots

peachy's yap: wc 3.1k .ᐟ anything about ony will do it for me. hood nigga ony is my fav ony sorry not sorry.

"yeah, one of her closest friends. i told her i'd come get her but she refused to leave her friend alone at home." connie informed ony about you as they made their way to your house. ony shrugged following the directions on the navigation not too worried about you.

the two guys had a few drops to make before turning in for the night. connie's car was at home and he didn't feel like doubling back. pulling up to your house mansion ony's jaw dropped. connie nodded looking at him and not shocked by the mere size of your home anymore.

"she's fucking rich and she's a little sheltered," he warned him knowing how ony can get. he's not loud or super outgoing but he's very assertive and he's bold. ony just nodded watching you and sasha walk out of the front door.

"you didn't tell me she looked that good." ony hit connie on the shoulder and connie frowned up.

"why would i? that's my girl's close friend, she's like a sister." he shook his head as sasha and you entered the car. sasha leaned up to kiss connie before she went back to talking to you.

"y'all not gon' say hi t'me?" ony asked and sasha smacked her lips.

"you always beggin' for attention, hi ony," she said and ony looked at you and you cleared your throat.

"hi onyankapon," you said his full name and he shook his head.

"i know we just met but you can call me ony, ma. i prefer that anyways," he tells you and you nod giving him a small smile before turning back to sasha who slaps your arm. connie gave him a look that said 'really?' and ony smiled to himself.

the four of you rode around as connie and ony made their final drops for the night. sasha and you giggling and gossiping in the back. until ony heard something that piqued his interest.

"you've never been to a sideshow?" he said not caring if he was caught listening in on your conversation.

"no..." you said and he laughed.

"hey con isn't there one this friday?” ony asked and connie nodded grabbing his phone and keys.

“yeah eren and jean said they're going too," he said opening the door sasha followed behind him and ony nodded.

"they spinnin'?" he asked and your brows furrowed not understanding what 'spinning' referred to. while con nodded you looked at sasha who waved at you to get out of the car. you followed behind sasha and connie and they took you home.

over the next week, ony had invited you and sasha to tag along as they made their drops. you and sasha sitting in the back gossiping and watching tiktoks. while ony and connie eavesdropped on the two of you. connie adds his two sense now and then while ony agreeing or disagreeing.

when friday rolled around you were nervous. ony promised you that you'd have a good time and to wear a sweater or something. over the last week, you and ony had exchanged numbers and had casual conversations over text. the first time he called you was last night when he facetimed you to talk about the plans for the night.

-flashback-

frank ocean played on your speaker as you did your homework. you hummed to the song you were sidetracked by the new eye masks you had bought. after putting them on you put your focus back on your homework.

your music was interrupted by your phone ringing, expecting it to be your parents or sasha. you looked down seeing ony was facetiming. your brain scrambled making your hair was good. you answered the phone sitting it against your vanity.

"hello?" you said looking up at the phone and seeing ony eyes low looking at you. he was clearly in the car and smoke clouded his face. he licked his lips and smiled small showing his gold grillz.

"what you doin’?" he asked bringing the phone close to his face and putting his eye in the camera. you laughed at his silly gesture shaking your head.

"i'm doin' homework." ony nods grabbing the blunt from who you assumed was connie. they were best friends and if ony was with a group of people connie had to be there too or he wasn't going. although ony was bold and spoke how he felt he was a usually quiet person. he didn't speak unless he felt comfortable enough to put in his opinion.

"you still comin wit us tomorrow right?" he asked and you nodded your head quickly.

"of course, we've been talkin' about it all week," you tell ony and he smiles. you were excited for this friday you liked spending time with ony and you'd get to go out and have fun for once.

-flashback over-

you looked in the mirror one last time nodding at your outfit. it wasn't insanely cold since it was between summer and fall. you grabbed a purse making sure you had your essentials.

lip gloss. phone. gum. wallet. keys.

after you checked that you had everything you ran downstairs going out to ony's car. this time connie's car was parked in front of his but you didn't notice. you opened up the back seat not seeing sasha.

"you sittin' in the front with me ma," he tells you. you nod and join him in the front. once it dawned on you that connie and sasha were leading the way and you two were following behind them.

"i thought con and sasha were in here," you said looking at ony's side profile. he looked better than he did on the factime yesterday. brown skin glowing under the sunset his mustache and goatee combo. he was like a fine-ass black movie star and you couldn't take his eyes off him.

"i thought they were riding with us but con said he'd drive." he informed you and you nodded still staring at him. "starin' is rude y'know that right?" he laughed and you quickly looked away from him.

"i ain't mean ta stare." you clear your throat and he hums. although you didn't mean to stare you still did anyway. eyes trained on the way his arm covered in tattoos steered his free hand holding a blunt between his pointer and thumb.

he had on a loose white short sleeve with black graphics and black cargo pants. he had on a durag and a black and white yankees fitted and maison mihara canvas lows. he looked too good his golds shining under the setting sun.

the rest of the ride was silent while ony smoked his blunt and followed behind connie. when you all pulled up to the abandoned empty lot people were hoping out of their car. big speakers were pulled out and music began to play. car after car came in drifting in the small circle. a couple of people got hit which made you a little nervous to be as close as you were.

ony and connie had introduced you to reiner, armin, mikasa, annie, eren, jean, levi, and hange. you were shocked by the large group of friends you had never met in the 10 years you were friends with sasha. you all leaned on reiner's big pickup truck watching eren drive into the circle.

"is he good?" you asked looking up at ony. you were leaning against his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

"as fuck. lot of people come just ta' see him." ony told you and you nodded taking in your surroundings. "you good?" he asked and you smiled at him with a nod. honestly, you were enjoying your time here.

"you think i could spend more time with y'all?" you asked and he nodded.

"hell yeah, you're sasha's friend and you're my friend now so of course you can." he smiled down at you and you looked away too shy to look at him. some guy walked up to the two of you smiling at ony.

"wassup man you got that shit on you?" he asked and ony nodded.

"you know i do." he laughed dapping him up and taking the money from the man's hand. he handed him the bag and the man quickly walked off.

although it was legal ony didn't care for everyone knowing he sold. especially at a sideshow that was as crowded as this. he wanted to vibe out with you especially since he felt like y'all were feeling each other. he wanted to put 100% of his attention on you and you only. not selling to some potheads who couldn't spare an extra 5 minutes asking someone else.

your big mesmerized eyes were looking everywhere shocked at what you were seeing. ony smiled concedely taking credit for being the one to show you something new. he enjoyed how every time something happened you'd look back at him with a shocked expression. pointing at the car saying "did you see that?" "look at that car" "oooo that one's girlie!". he loved every second of your obvious enjoyment.

after the sideshow, the group decided to go to waffle house very original. it was going on 2 am and everyone sat around the table eating their food. eren made money and you weren't exactly sure how. ony made money too, that you knew how.

"i'll be right back you told the group and they nodded." you stood up walking to the bathroom expecting to see stalls you realized there was only one family bathroom in the whole restaurant.

after doing your business you washed your hands. you grabbed your lip gloss out of your purse reapplying as someone knocked on the door. you didn't answer initially thinking they'd notice someone was in here after they wiggled the locked handle. yet the knock came again.

"just a second!" you yelled and whoever was behind the door knocked harder. "i said just a second the fuck?" you yelled swinging the door open and seeing ony standing there, toothpick in his mouth.

"you yellin' at me ma?" he asked and you smiled backing up the closeness between the two of you too much. but it only made it worse since ony came into the bathroom with you locking the door behind him.

"nah, i thought you was somebody else. if you would've said it was you i would've let you in," you said and ony raised a brow.

"let me in? i really just came to talk to you with all those people around. been waiting to be wit just you." he said licking his lips at you making you look away from him.

"why just me?" you asked and he shrugged wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"i been wanting to kiss you since tuesday," he said lowly in your ear. you were taken aback by this confession since you had only met him sunday.

"kiss me?" you asked and ony laughed.

"you askin' or tellin'?" he smirked as your face was hot from his flirty comments.

"both," you said building up the courage to try keyword try to flirt back with ony.

"yeah," he responded to your question and then the hand on your waist fell to your ass. this reaction was a response to you telling. he kissed you like he had been wanting to do for the past week.

your lips moved fast and hungrily the sweet taste of syrup on his lips. while he tasted the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. the mix of flavors is sweet and tasty. your hands reached up grabbing his cheeks and pulling him closer to you. his other now on your waist.

"mmm." you moan into his mouth as his hands knead the fatty flesh of your ass. you pulled away standing on tiptoes to trail kisses from his lips down his neck. your hands going up his shirt running up his toned abs.

"right now?" he asked in shock and you knew what he meant not needing it to be interpreted. you nodded looking up at him with doe eyes. "i could take you home tho..." he said, breathing unevenly he was getting turned on by the minute.

"need you now, m'so wet," you whispered to him. ony was shocked by your boldness and your admission of needing him. he smirked at you picking you up and pushing your back against the wall of the bathroom.

he realized now that this wasn't a good idea since the one piece you wore had to be unzipped from the back. he let you down taking off your jacket and hanging it on the hook. looking for the zipper on the back of your one-piece.

"how the fuck do you take this shit off?" he grumbled and you were whining from being impatient. "i know baby i know i'm tryna find this bitch ass zipper. lucky we ain't at home i'd rip this bitch off you." he said angrily finally finding the zipper. he helped you out of it and hung it on the hook too.

"c'mere," you said wrapping your arms around his neck. he unbuckled his pants pulling them down. he couldn't afford to have a wet spot on his pants when you both returned to the table. "we only have 10 minutes."

"that'll do," he grunted lifting your right leg and squatting down. placing your leg over his shoulder he wasted no time pushing two of his fingers into your tight cunt.

"fuck wait." you moaned out and ony hummed. you hadn't had sex in a while and you were tighter than usual. the stretch from ony's fingers was almost too much for you to take.

"im thicker than this." he warned and the thought of his big cock tearing you in half had you clenching on his fingers. "oh you like that? you're getting wetter just thinkin' about me?" he taunted you as he fucked his fingers into you. your juices dripped down your leg and he licked it up. trapping your clit into his mouth as he ate you out so good.

he pulled his fingers out of you pushing his fingers into your mouth. you grabbed his wrist and sucked his fingers clean. his eyes dilated as he watched you in awe he knew he needed to feel your mouth around him. but you didn't have time.

with that reminder, ony spun you around pressing your chest against the wall. you spread your legs bending over enough that your ass arched. ony pulled a condom out of his wallet ripping the condom. he slid the condom down his dick rubbing the tip on your clit.

"ready?"

"yes." you moaned and ony groaned as he pushed himself halfway in. and he was right he was thicker than his fingers. the stretch brought tears to your eyes, and you turned around looking to see he was only halfway in. he pushed more of himself in and you whined pushing against his stomach.

"let me just get all the way and you can take all the time you need," he said leaning forward to kiss away your tears. you nodded letting him bottom out in you the tip of his dick kissing your cervix. you moved slowly as your tight cunt adjusted to him.

"m'ready," you told him and he nodded starting off with nice slow strokes. your moans were uncontrollable as he pounded into you painfully slow. "f...faster please." you mumbled and ony laughed at your plea.

"what was that ma i couldn't hear you," he said making his strokes even slower to antagonize you.

"faster ony please!" you yelp and he smirks loving the way you said screaming out his name and begging for him. and just like you asked ony fucked you faster his hips snapped into you. his hands roughly gripped your waist as he bullied his big cock into you.

"fuck baby this pussy s’good for me. so tight and warm." he moaned throwing his head back. he slapped your ass and gripped it roughly. his other hand followed suit. now both hands were on your ass spreading it open he fucked into you. he was hypnotized by the glistening of your essence coating him and the way you grip him.

his hips never slowed down as if he was digging the orgasm out of you. his groans were almost louder than your moans as he pounded into you. your hands flat against the wall as your body roughly hit the wall from ony's thrust. because of his fast pace and roughness, you were about to cum.

"fuck... on.... cum...." was all you could manage from the way his dick fucked you senseless.

"you cumming ma? yeahhhh good girl. tell me how good it feels." he groaned angling his hips to fuck you even better. you let out a squeal 'feels s'good' as his dick hit every spot that made you come undone. "fuck i'm behind you, cum wit me baby." he moaned leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"oh my god onyyyy..." you whined as you came all over his cock ony followed cumming into the condom. your cream painting his cock white as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

"so good for me," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath.

"ooo shit," he grunted his cum still leaking out into the condom. he stilled in your as you both caught your breath. “gotta… hurry up,” he huffed grabbing paper towels and wetting them to wipe in between your legs. 

he cleaned you up and helped you put back on your clothes. he pulled up his pants and helped you get situated before you both were ready to leave. as you opened up the door reiner was about to knock on the door. his eyes wide looking between the two of you with a knowing look. 

“if i ain’t know no better i’d think the two of ya was fuckin’.” he said in his thick country accent and you looked up at ony who looked down at you. “i’m just fuckin’ wit y’all.” he laughed letting the two of you out to go inside and use the bathroom. the two of you laughed at that awkward moment until you walked up to the table. everyone was looking up at the two of you and down at your legs.

“shit.” ony mumbled and you looked down, there was a rip in the inner thing of your bodysuit.

“they was fucking!” eren laughed and mikasa hit his arm telling him to hush.

“we gon’ go.” ony said grabbing your arm as the two of you left out of waffle house.

“how did this happen? you took it off!” you whined as you both got in the car and ony drove you home.

“i mean i heard a rip but i thought that was the zipper.” ony grumbled and you snapped your head to look at him.

“you what?” you yelled and he laughed.

“oops?”

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations: Part Four

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's family stops by for a visit and you feel the divide growing bigger. You're at a loss for how to reconnect, but try - misguided or not.

Warnings: G!P smut. Angsty, emotional smut. G!P penetrative sex. Hand job. Shower sex.

A/N: The rest of the series is here. The emotions in the story are messy. Reader is very hurt and doesn't know how to move forward. Jessie's trying to make everyone happy, including and especially Reader, but doesn't necessarily know how to do that.

"It's so good to see you, sweetie."

You returned Jessie's mom's smile as you reciprocated the sentiment and hugged her back before hugging Jessie's dad and sister.

Her parents and sister dropped off their things at the hotel they were staying at nearby and had just arrived at your and Jessie's apartment.

You proceeded to exchange pleasantries with them; something that was very easy, they were always so warm and welcoming from day one and you felt like a member of their family even before Jessie placed a ring on your finger.

This time felt different though. You tried to not get too lost in your thoughts, but you couldn't help but keep coming back to the reason they were here in the first place.

It wasn't to help with wedding planning. It wasn't just to visit and say 'hi'.

They were here to meet Zoie. And Sara.

Their grandkid - and niece - and the woman Jessie shared her with.

You did your best to smile and act normal. Like this wasn't still killing you inside.

They talked about the agenda and the logistics of their visit. When they were meeting Sara and Zoie. Where. Was Jessie still sure the gifts they brought okay? There was much to sort out and verify and you really had nothing to add. How could you? It wasn't your child they were meeting. Jessie was the one who knew Sara's schedule, not you.

So you smiled and nodded along as though you were just as much a part of this as anyone could be and like it was old news. That all of this was totally fine and so were you.

And as Jessie held your hand and smiled at you as she talked, it was as easy as it could be.

It was harder to pretend when her family talked to you one on one.

"So, how are you doing?" Her mother asked as she came up to you in the kitchen while you poured waters for everyone. You immediately clenched your jaw and swallowed before catching yourself, practicing your smile as you filled the last glass before looking up at her.

"I'm doing okay," you said as brightly as you could. As much as you wanted to act normal, saying you were 'great' would've been far too much a reach for anyone to believe.

She reached out and laid a warm hand on yours, giving a light squeeze as she offered you a small smile that immediately almost brought tears to your eyes. You laughed quietly and turned away to put the water filter in the fridge, trying to compose yourself in those few seconds.

Your eyes flit over to the diamond ring on your finger as you held the fridge door open. You were the one with the ring. You were the one she wanted. You repeated these affirmations in your head and took a quick breath before turning back around.

"It's a shock for everyone," her mom spoke gently as you returned. "I can imagine it hasn't been easy to navigate."

You held her gaze, but you wanted her to stop. You didn't want to talk about this. You were barely hanging on as is. And having her look at you with this apologetic expression - or maybe it was pity - it was just too much to bear.

"It's alright," you said with a forced smile. "It's a lot for Jessie, too. And she's been great about things - now that I know." Your chest twinged in residual anger at how she hid everything from you, but you pushed past it. "She's been really thoughtful and considerate even though she's dealing with so much herself."

You cleared your throat.

"Um, and yeah, Zoie's wonderful. She's so much like Jessie in some ways, it's uncanny," you said with a quiet chuckle. You held your smile steady. "You'll love her."

Her mom smiled and reached out cupping your cheek warmly and just took you in for a couple of seconds. You felt tears starting to burn behind your eyes. You tore yourself away with another forced laugh and gathered two of the glasses.

If she noticed your burgeoning emotions, she made no comment of it.

What was hardest of all though was when you all went to meet with Zoie and Sara at the playground.

Just as before, you did your best to fit in. To be pleasant and warm as you watched her family interacting with her daughter. You stood there quietly, feeling so out of place as they smiled and hugged Jessie's ex, getting to know her, laughing and seeing her be welcomed in as well.

It was a beautiful thing; a family so loving and open, and such a contrast to how bitter and dark you felt in the midst of all of this warmth and new connections.

It wasn't about you. You kept telling yourself that over and over as you felt your mood and mental state sinking lower and lower to no avail. You felt so frustrated with yourself that you could cry. While everyone was getting to know one another, playing and running around, you berated yourself repeatedly for how you just couldn't get on board. Why couldn't you just be happy like everyone else?

No, you were too selfish. This little girl was discovering a new family. After years of missing out, was now being showered with love and affection from the family she should've had from day one. And somehow, pathetically, you just felt sorry for yourself. It felt like you weren't meant to be here. You felt insignificant and like you didn't belong anymore.

"Are you good?"

Jessie's inquiry pulled you from your thoughts. You wanted to snap at her - immediately upset that she was even remotely aware that perhaps you were anything but perfectly okay. You caught yourself.

"I'm good," you promised with a reassuring nod.

Again. It was not about you right now.

She gave you a sweet smile and grabbed you by both hands, gently pulling you towards the action and further into the group. Your heart both melted and ached, and you let her pull you either way.

--------

"We'll be back soon, okay?"

Her parents said as they hugged you both goodbye a few days later.

"And you'll set up a video call with all us and Zoie and Sara for next weekend, right?" Her dad asked. Jessie nodded patiently.

"Yes, dad," she laughed.

"K, just making sure," he said in a joking manner.

You were hugging Elysse when her dad's hushed voice caught your attention. You glanced out of the corner of your eye to see him pulling Jessie aside.

You remained focused on Elysse, but discretely strained to hear what Jessie and her dad were discussing.

"...it's okay...don't worry about it...consider it our gift to you both..."

After her family drove off and you and Jessie went back upstairs to your apartment you watched her quietly. She was acting entirely normal. You were much more vigilant about her behaviour now after everything, but she seemed fine.

Before, you would've assumed if there was something worth telling you, she'd tell you. It was hard to feel confident about that again so quickly though.

"What were you and your dad talking about at the end there?" You asked as she began preparing lunch.

She paused briefly and your senses went into high alert.

She looked over at you, seemingly gathering her thoughts.

"Um, my parents are gifting us part of the venue costs for the wedding," she said in what you imagined she aimed to be a nonchalant way. You frowned at her.

"I thought they were paying for decorations," you said.

She continued pulling things out of the fridge.

"Yeah, they are," she said simply. You frowned further at the back of her head.

"I don't get it. Didn't our last payment for the venue go through already?"

You saw her taking a deep breath before she responded, "Yeah, it did."

You exhaled gruffly, irritation settling in your chest over her simplistic responses.

"So - what's going on?" You asked, tone growing sharp. She took another deep breath and put down her utensils to face you. She folded her arms in front of herself.

"I-" she paused, her expression shifting to an apologetic look that you'd become far too familiar with in recent times. A lump formed in your throat immediately.

"I had to borrow some money from them for my part of the last payment," she admitted, gaze dropping to the floor for several moments before she braved a look at you. She took a step forward, talking eagerly - desperately - now. "It was supposed to be temporary. It's just with the timing of that last payment...with the lawyer fees, and child support, and everything, I didn't have a lot readily available. I have it, you know that, it just wasn't liquid so...I asked my parents."

Your blood was boiling and yet again, you felt a wave of guilt come over you at how ashamed and upset Jessie looked over this confession.

"Why the fuck wouldn't you tell me?" You nearly hissed.

She exhaled roughly, her shoulders slumping as she mustered a response. "I felt terrible! You were so hurt and upset with everything already. You've made so many concessions and you've been so supportive already - I couldn't add this. This was mine to deal with; I didn't want it to affect you."

"Well guess what - every fucking thing you do affects me! So yes, when you have a kid with someone else and you have to pay a shit ton to lawyers, pay child support - including offering to help her pay for her move up here," you added seethingly, "and then can't pay for parts of our wedding. Yes - it impacts me. Fuck, Jess."

Jessie's eyes were still downcast and she frowned harshly as she withstood your reproach.

"You should've told me. We could've figured it out together," you said, tone quieter this time. "I'm so sick of you lying to me. This has to stop."

She closed her eyes. "I just didn't want to push you any more. I know you're dealing with a lot already."

"I'm your fiancée, Jess. Your partner. I know things are tense right now. Delicate. But we have to be able to trust each other," you berated her.

"It wasn't about not trusting you," she said with an imploring look, "I just don't want to hurt you - disappoint you - anymore." She took a breath as she took your hands in hers. "And I've got things sorted now. I was ready to pay my parents back, but my dad isn't letting me. Hence the gift."

You shook your head as you looked away feeling tired and drained.

A few seconds passed and she was about to speak again when her phone buzzed on the counter and her screen lit up. Sara.

You ground your teeth together and heat coursed up through your body.

"Your ex is texting you," you said flatly as you dropped your hands from hers.

Jessie sighed wearily and reached for your hands again, but you stepped aside.

"She's not my ex," she told you in frustration. "Not the way you're thinking it." You scoffed and shot her a hard look.

"No. She's the mother of your child. Which is far more significant," you said, silencing any kind of rebuttal Jessie might have had planned otherwise.

You retreated to the bedroom. Suddenly, the apartment felt far too small with no safe place for reprieve.

------

The next morning you stirred from sleep, opening your eyes to see, as usual, Jessie's side of the bed fully made. You could hear rustling out in the kitchen and you subconsciously let out a tired sigh as recollections of yesterday came back to you.

You laid out on your back and stared wordlessly up at the ceiling. The rest of the evening prior had been tense, but still ended with Jessie's arm wrapped around your waist as you both went to sleep in an unspoken truce.

As if on cue, Jessie gingerly opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. You made eye contact with her and she smiled, opening the door more fully with her shoulder and bearing two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Good morning, baby," she greeted with a soft smile as she rounded the bed and sat down next to you, offering you your mug. You sat up and took it from her, returning her smile. "Did you sleep okay?"

You shrugged lightly. "Yeah, I slept alright. How about you?" She shrugged much the same way you had.

"It was okay," she said, tone a bit down as she looked into her mug before looking back up at you. "I still felt off about everything yesterday. I'm really sorry."

You gave her a faint smile. "Don't lie to me again. I mean it."

She nodded readily. "I understand. I do."

She took a breath and cracked a half-hearted smile. You couldn't help but notice how her eyes betrayed her. "Think you'll ever forgive me?" She asked with what was meant to be a casual chuckle.

Whether she was being serious or not, you found yourself answer earnestly. You mustered up as much of a smile as you could. "I'm trying, Jess."

Her expression faltered and she let out a breathy laugh as she swirled the dark liquid in her mug. Her eyes shimmered as she met your gaze once again.

"What is it going to take? I'll do anything," she said quietly.

You sighed softly as your own eyes were now drawn to the mug in your hand while you processed her plea. You cracked a wry smirk as you looked at her.

"Well, not lying to me would be a good start," you said, but quickly moved on over the apologetic expression she gave you. Some other words swirled inside your mind and maybe if you hadn't just woken up you may have kept them to yourself. Instead, you spoke.

"I just want you to myself again," you admitted quietly, surprised at the emotion that rose to the surface so readily. "I miss you so much. And I miss us."

Jessie frowned and reached forward, setting down her mug on your nightstand and grabbing yours to do the same. She grasped your hands and inched closer to you.

"I'm here," she told you emphatically. "I'm still yours. I always have been. And I always want to be." You stared at her, looking into her glistening eyes. She moved closer and squeezed your hands. "I miss you, too. More than you know. And we're still 'us' - I still want everything with you that I did before." She released a quiet sigh. "I wish you'd let me in again."

There was something about this moment. The way she looked at you, the way she was opening up - searching for you - it felt soothing and it eased the aching loneliness that had been consuming you lately. You wanted more.

You found yourself leaning forward and capturing her lips in a kiss. You noted the mild look of surprise on her face as you closed in, but any uncertainty she'd felt seemingly melted away as she returned your kiss, allowing you to deepen it and she leaned into you furthermore.

Before you knew it, you were pulling her down onto the bed and she climbed on top of you, kissing you hungrily and your hands and hers wandered over one another in a growing frenzy.

You tugged her shirt off and she readily obliged, raising herself onto her knees as she peeled it off. Your eyes took in her glorious form, something you'd seen only in passing the past couple of months. Your eyes immediately fell to the growing bulge in her pants and you felt your core throb with want. It had been so long.

When you looked back up at her face, you saw how her eyes had grown dark with lust and need. Her hands roamed across your body like she was exploring you for the first time all over again. The tips of her fingers dug into your skin when she lost control and she was quick to remove all of your clothes, her lips kissing all across your skin as she rediscovered you.

"You are so beautiful," she whispered headily as she kissed up your torso and pulled you close. "I love you so much. You're the only one for me."

Your pulse was pounding inside your head as you pulled her the rest of the way up your body and into a heated kiss. You rocked your hips against her, feeling her hot, stiff member pressing against you. You could feel yourself dripping with need and you whimpered unabashedly in desperation. She nudged at your entrance and you could hear her breath hitch as her shoulders rounded out in tension.

"I want you inside of me," you commanded.

"Oh fuck," she said in a whimper of her own as her fingers dug into your skin and her back arched above you though she didn't enter you yet.

She released a huff as she pushed hard off the mattress and slammed open her nightstand drawer with urgency, pulling out a condom, ripping the top of the wrapper off with her mouth and hurriedly rolling it onto her cock and settled herself back on top of you.

Your stomach dropped at the action as the world outside of this moment came flooding back into your consciousness. It's not that you wanted to risk anything right now, but the condom was a painful reminder of the drama that had taken over your life as of late.

A small noise escaped you as Jessie slipped inside of your heat for the first time since all of this began. She groaned low in her chest and she held herself deep inside of you for several moments, her muscles taut before she began to pull her hips back and started to establish a rhythm.

Your arms were wrapped around the back of her shoulders and while you would normally be panting and moaning in pleasure, clawing at her as she brought you pleasure like no one else had, in this moment, you stared blankly up at the ceiling as she rocked and breathed above you.

"God, you feel so good," she panted as she thrust into you and buried her face further into your neck. You closed your eyes and clung to her as you tried to drive other thoughts from your mind.

You dug your nails into her skin and screwed your eyes close even tighter.

This was Jessie. This was the woman you loved more than anything in the world. The person you'd chosen, the one who'd chosen you. The person you wanted forever with.

The pit in your stomach persisted.

The sounds of her strong thrusts in and out of you filled the room and echoed loudly in your ears. It wasn't until her steady strokes suddenly slowed and faltered before stopping altogether, that you opened your eyes again. You blinked in confusion at the interruption. She remained inside of you, but now held herself up above you on her hands as she looked down at you with a concerned frown.

"A-are you okay? We can stop if you want," she said tentatively as she searched your face.

Something possessed you as she looked down at you with uncertainty and worry in her eyes. You reached up, pulling her down into a hard kiss and flipped the two of you over so you were on top, ensuring to not let her slip out of you as you did so.

You didn't break the kiss, instead kissing her with greater fervour as you began to rock your hips. Soon you raised yourself up so her tip was stretching your entrance out and dropped back down onto her, swallowing her hard cock to the hilt and immediately meeting her previous rhythm and even increasing it some.

Her hands gripped your hips tightly, her fingers digging into your skin and her head fell back into the pillow.

"W-we don't have to do anything," she managed to say, voice hitching with effort as she tried to blink through the haze of pleasure you were creating.

"Don't you want me," you whispered sultrily as you leaned down and tugged her earlobe with your teeth as you rode her hard.

She let out a high pitched whimper in your ear. It sounded like heaven to you and spurred on this strange self-satisfied sensation in your chest.

"Of course I do," she panted helplessly as she subconsciously rocked her hips up to meet your thrusts. Her fingers curled desperately into your skin and she added breathily, "I always do."

"Tell me I'm yours," you coaxed as you bounced on her length, relishing how her hips jerked up into you while she panted and moaned beneath you.

She groaned and reached up, pulling you down against her and holding you close while she tried to takeover your thrusts.

"You're mine," she said as she ran her fingers through your hair. You lifted yourself back up a bit to regain control of the rhythm and you smirked at how her eyes fluttered shut and she groaned once more. She let out a wanting breath. "And I'm yours." You saw her jaw flex and her head fell further back. "Fuck. I belong to you."

You placed your hands on your chest and continued to ride her, newly inspired by her proclamations. You couldn't help but be aware that in any other scenario, you'd have been cumming on her cock by now. Instead, outside of this empty satisfaction that fluttered inside your chest, you didn't feel anywhere close to a climax.

Her whimpers and moans began to grow in pitch and you knew she was close. She managed to open her eyes and look to you. She seemed to recognize that you weren't close and though she tried to hold on, she stood no chance and it was only a matter of time until her moan hitched in her throat and she pushed herself up as deep into you as she could as she spilled herself into the condom.

The satisfaction you'd felt moments before quickly faded as the heat of the moment wore off and soon you sat straddling her hips, quietly watching her as she softened inside of you.

Jessie had hardly come out the other side of her orgasm, when she moved, trying to coax you onto your back and offering to go down on you.

"Baby, it's okay," you told her though you allowed her to lay you down. You held her in place as she went to move down your body. She faltered.

"I want you to feel good too," she said with gentle, pleading eyes.

"I do feel good," you insisted and she let out a wry chuckle.

"Babe...," she said, "I know it's been a while..., but I know when you didn't cum."

"So what?" You asked, your face beginning to heat up under her scrutiny - intended or not. You tried to discretely duck your head into her shoulder under the guise of cuddling in. You hugged her to you. "I just want to lay here together."

You felt the indecision in her body, stiffening as she decided whether to push further or to just let it go. She eventually relaxed and laid down next to you while gently pulling you into her arms. She kissed the top of your head and you laid a kiss on her collarbone.

You kept your head tucked in as you stared vacantly down the bed, idly aware of how your limbs were still entangled. She squeezed you and kissed your head once more as her fingers grazed along your arm in sweet affection.

Sex with Jessie had always been incredible. Passionate. Loving. Intimate. Fun. And there were glimpses of that this morning, but they were fleeting despite how hard you tried to hold onto those feelings. Instead of feeling satiated, blissful, tired and energized in all the best ways, and above all, thoroughly loved, you felt kind of...empty.

Your breathing started to quicken as uneasiness began to fester inside your chest. While you should've felt calm and peaceful in her arms, suddenly you felt restless. You fought against the feeling for as long as you could, but eventually your fingers curled in against her skin and you gave her a fleeting kiss on the shoulder as your removed yourself from her embrace. She looked to you questioningly.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," you explained with a small smile. She propped herself up on her elbows as you maneuvered off the bed.

"I'll join you," she said quickly before hesitating. "If you want."

You stood before her, feeling unnaturally exposed and wracking your mind for an excuse before you even realized it.

"Didn't you shower already this morning?" You asked innocently as you distractedly began gathering up clothes for the day.

"We haven't showered together in a long time," she countered, her tone betraying the ease of the shrug you saw her give in the mirror. She watched you wordlessly and intently for another moment before adding with a soft smile that made your heart ache. "I don't mind at all."

You closed the drawer and turned around to face her. Your heart panged further at how she looked braced for rejection.

"Sure," you said with a quiet smile. "Come on, then"

She beamed at your response and rushed out of bed to start gathering new towels. She eagerly took your clothes from you and folded them neatly, setting them on the bathroom counter. She started the shower, checking the temperature and let you know when it was warm. She gave you another sweet smile as you approached and held her hand out for you as you stepped in.

She followed you, closing the shower door behind her and gently grasped you by the waist, moving you so you were more fully under the water. While she didn't really mind getting cold, you despised it and she knew it.

Despite your mood even minutes before, you couldn't help but melt slightly under her attentiveness. She smiled and kissed you - on the lips, on your cheeks, your nose, forehead. She lathered your hair for you, soaped you up playfully and sweetly.

It felt like old times.

You began to return the favour, and - much like old times - you felt compelled to let your hands wander. She looked momentarily uncertain as you reach down between your bodies to began stroking her. Her eyes were watchful as you coaxed her member to grow firmer and longer in your skillful hand.

To rid her of any lingering doubts of your intentions, you ran your free hand through her hair and leaned in and began to tenderly kiss her neck. You felt her throat rumble with a low groan and she allowed herself to begin to buck gently into your hand.

Her arms wrapped around you, making you feel warm and safe, and a rush of emotion rose within you.

"I love you Jessie," you said against her neck as your fingers dug into her crown. You felt her body relax, like some kind of weight was relieved of her, and soon she gently pushed you against the shower wall in a deep kiss.

"I love you too," she whispered into the kiss. "So much."

The throbbing in your core grew stronger as she began to more fully grind against you and into your hand, the head of her cock gliding against your stomach with every stroke.

You pushed her back slightly, adjusting the position of her cock so it was now between your legs. She thrust forward, her length now nudging against your entrance. You leaned your head back against the shower wall and pulled her closer as you panted in renewed need for her.

She subtly rut against you, the head of her cock spreading your entrance ever so slightly more each time as she toyed with slipping inside of you.

You lifted your leg, planting your foot on the lower ledge of the shower, inviting her in. You felt her exhale lustfully. She rocked up into you a touch more, the head pushing just enough inside that your walls fully enveloped it this time, both of you gasping at the sensation.

"I'll pull out," she told you as she withdrew before immersing herself further inside of you.

You screwed your eyes together harder as you urgently tried to stall the thoughts that threatened to invade your mind at her comment.

You just wanted to be with her. Be loved by her and to not think about how your world and your relationship had fragmented. You held her closer and she responded by thrusting up into you with greater force and pace.

She whispered sweet nothings as she drove into you, your skin pressed against the cold tiles of the shower. Her words were loving and wanting, dirty and sweet, all things that made you cum on her cock countless times before. Words, sentiments and actions that always left your body quivering while her name fell from your mouth in whispers and cries.

For the second time this morning though, your mind refused to let you be in the moment. You wanted to let go and to fall apart in the safety of her arms, but you just couldn't.

Your eyes began to tear up and you were grateful for the water that cascaded down both your bodies.

You didn't want her to worry. And you didn't want to have to talk about it. You didn't want to linger on what this all meant.

So you moaned, and whimpered, and dragged your nails down her back in all the ways you used to. You let your moans hit a fever pitch, your breath hitching and shuddering, knowing she wouldn't let herself cum before you again.

True to her word, as her thrusts grew rapid and desperate, her own breath catching as her climax approached, she pulled out at the last second and pumped her fist hard and fast over her cock a couple of times before she came with a heady grunt, ropes of cum shooting up onto your torso only to be washed away just as fast by the shower.

"Holy fuck," she panted as the last drops of cum drained from her. She released her cock and braced one hand against the wall, eyes closed. You tenderly ran your hands up and down the sides of her neck and watched her quietly. She rest her forehead against yours.

"I love you so much," she breathed, eyes still closed in the haze of her orgasm.

You closed your eyes, a strange hollowness inside your chest. A beat passed before you squeezed her tightly to you.

"I love you, too."