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alexiroflife · 1 year ago

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how jjk men would react if they found out you sh…

Warning(s): cw//self harm, graphic depictions, mentions of depression, anxiety, sensitive content, angst/comfort

-> if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, etc., know that you aren’t alone. as someone who used to struggle with these things myself, i understand how difficult it can be, but know that you are strong and you are loved. and thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic and i appreciate the vulnerability of the request. sending all the possible love in the world to all of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

satoru gojo: satoru has an incredible sense of sight, thanks to his gift of the six eyes, as well as very keen observation skills. he picks up on little habits you harbor very quickly during the beginning of your relationship. you always choose to wear long-sleeved clothing, even when it’s warm, and you tug at your sleeves as though you are desperately trying to conceal a certain part of yourself from the outside world, from him. he doesn’t understand why at first. the thought crosses his mind that you just aren’t comfortable in sleeveless clothing, but you’ve shown him pictures of yourself from a decade ago when you’d wear variations of different tank tops, short sleeves, and more. he doesn’t understand what changed somewhere along the line. perhaps your sense of style has shifted? maybe you don't like your arms? (he can't understand how because he finds them to be the most gorgeous arms he's ever seen).

but no, something is nagging at him in the back of his head, churning the contents of his gut as though there is something he needs to know, to see that you were hiding, and when the moment unveiled itself, he instantly saw.

you’re in your kitchen while satoru watches you from the other side of the island, leaning over and gazing at your movements with a soft smile. his blue eyes scattered across your body, admiring you while simultaneously searching for any clue, any answer to his hovering questions.

“where’d i put the containers,” you murmur to yourself in the midst of making lunch for the week, moving about your space rather slowly.

satoru offers his own help, pointing a slender finger over to the space above your head. “did you check that cabinet?” he asks.

you turn over your shoulder and quirk your brow. “oh, do you live here now? suddenly know where everything is?” you ask playfully, a small smile rising to your lips as satoru chuckles.

“not yet,” he winks. “but i sure am working on it, though. you know i have to make myself familiar with the space in case we share it someday.”

“is that so?”

“or, of that doesn't work out you could always live with me. i’d love to have you.”

“we’ve been together for three weeks, satoru.”

“yeah, but what does that matter when it comes to loveeee,” he pouts and you giggle, shaking your head as you turn back to reach for the cabinet. you stand on your tiptoes and reach out, sleeve of your sweet draping down to your elbow.

satoru is quick to his feet to help you, though you’re more than capable, when he catches the sight of what looks like a scar streaking over the inside of your wrist. his face falls and his brows angle, marching over to you quickly with a look of urgency on his face.

you don’t register how fast he is moving until you feel him behind you. you turn and look up, caught off guard by the way his eyes had hardened and his pupils shrank. your hand stalls on the cabinet handle, the scars on your arm completely slipping your mind momentarily.

“satoru? you okay?”

he doesn’t answer, grasping your wrist in his hand gently and pulling it down from above you. your eyes flicker up to the movement, and when you realize what is happening, your heart sinks. your eyes go wide and you try to tug your arm away, but satoru’s grip tightens slightly, extending your arm by your wrist to display the inside of your forearm before him.

he thinks his vision is blurring over, his heart ringing in his ears, his breaths quickening as his eyes detail over the row of rigid scars lining from your inner elbow up to your wrist. his world collapses around him, lips stretching into a disbelieving grimace as his wild eyes survey the damage. some of those scars look newer than others, scabbing over with specs of purple, while the others are far older.

you panic, trying to tug away again, but satoru’s grip on you is too secure. a lump forms in your throat as you search for things to say, anything to say that could take your boyfriend’s attention away, that could excuse the sight before him as something else. “s-satoru, wait-” you stammer, your voice weaker than you had intended it to be.

satoru looks like he can’t hear you, nose flaring as he stares, and stares, and stares, and suddenly, your vulnerability is bare naked before him, on display for him to judge, to belittle, to curl his brows at and determine as pathetic and weak. you can feel yourself about to cry already, shaken by this sudden attention.

“satoru,” you whisper, arm trembling within his grasp.

“what is this?” he breathes out so quietly, his voice betraying himself and hardly reaching over a brush through the wind. when you do not answer, those pained eyes are on you, tormented by the sight he has just witnessed. “(y/n), what is this?”

you feel small, avoiding his eyes and looking all over the floor. “i- it’s nothing,” you murmur.

“nothing?” he repeats, as though he has been burned by your response. the white haired man quickly seeks out your other wrist, reaching down to your other side as you try to turn away, but he, of course, manages to seize it and extend it like your other arm and roll up that sleeve. the same row of scars litter your beautiful skin.

satoru’s a mess, frightened, confused, devastated. this is what you had been hiding from him all this time? “this isn’t fucking nothing, (y/n), they’re all over you! what did you do?”

you still can’t respond, you can’t muster up an excuse, you can’t do anything. satoru’s concern is far too overbearing, his gaze too intense, and his hold on you too secure. it feels like he has you laid out on a slab before him, stripped of your clothes as he examines your body with contempt.

he’s disgusted. he’s ashamed, you think.

amid his grief, he catches the terrified look in your eye, your lips tugged downward as if to prevent yourself from crying. you look so scared.

how could he have not seen this sooner, that you’re hurting? that you’re hurting yourself?

“baby, what did you do?” he repeats, softer this time as he leans down to look at you, your body trembling in his hold. his thumbs graze your inflamed skin, hesitant to touch you for fear that you may break.

“please don’t,” you breathe out in a huff, voice wobbling as you scrunch your eyes closed. “please, don’t look. just forget you saw it, please.”

“forget i-?” satoru has to stop himself from lashing out poorly, from allowing his emotions to overcome him in what he understands is clearly your moment of need. “how could you ask me to do something like that? (y/n), your arms, baby!”

“satoru, please-” you shake your head. you want to shrink away, to hide, to vanish into thin air. “i don’t wanna talk about it. please.”

“(y/n),” he exhales, closing his eyes to gather himself. “(y/n),” he repeats softly, hands releasing your wrists slowly and sliding up your arms to delicately hold your shoulders. “we can’t not talk about this. you have to tell me what’s been going on. you have to, baby, you have to understand how scared I am right now. help me understand. let me help you, let me take on whatever burden you’re carrying, please, I’ll do anything as long as it means you’re not hurting yourself.”

his hands move to your neck, cupping over the skin as he ducks his head down to look at you more clearly.

“i can’t stand the thought that you’ve been- and i haven’t-” satoru was stumbling now, throat straining as the urge to cry rose. “why didn’t you come to me? i’m right here for you, (y/n), i always have been. why didn’t you tell me?”

“...it’s embarrassing,” you manage to say, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes peering into you even with your own eyes closed. “didn’t want you to see… I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

satoru’s heart is breaking for you, hurt that you could even think of yourself as a burden to him. “have i- have i done or said anything to you to make you feel that way?” he asks genuinely, and you cringe, turning your head to the side to open your eyes.

“no, of course not.”

“then why would you think that, baby?”

you shrug helplessly, tears welling into your eyes. satoru sees you, all of you, his heart thrumming to capture the pain you feel and to lift it from your chest, to help you breathe even just a little bit. he releases a weighted sigh, one of sadness, of love, of heartache for you, and he’s pulling you into him as your arms dangle limply at your sides.

you scrunch your eyes and immediately break down into him, sobbing into his shirt as his warm hands wash over your frame and cradle your head to him, the muscles in his face tight with anguish. he holds onto you like he’s horrified that you will fade away within his arms.

“i’m just so tired, toru,” you cry into his chest, dampening the fabric of his shirt. “i’m sorry.”

satoru doesn’t respond, afraid that if he speaks, he’ll end up crying too. you’re his girl, his beautiful, loving girl, and the fact that you have done such harm to yourself is incomprehensible to him. if you love him so, how can you hate yourself enough to have done this?

“how long?” is all he can ask you, breath heaving into your hair and ear. you hesitate, for he already seems so wounded by his discovery. “tell me.”

“...two years…”

he’s crushed. how did he not see sooner? how could he have been so blind after having bragged about being able to see everything so clearly? how could he have left you like this?

he holds you tighter, digging his head into the crook of your neck and hunching over, your eyes now seeing over the curve of his broad shoulder.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes to you in turn, fingers curling into your hair as he holds your scalp. “i'm sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

you’re confused as to why he’s apologizing to you since the entire thing is your fault. satoru has a tendency to take on your emotions, piling them onto his own weight of carrying the title of the strongest. you never understood why he did so naturally and willingly, and why even now as you stood limply in his arms, he’s crying for the things you did to yourself.

he pulls away with shiny red eyes, gazing down into your shiny red eyes and tear stained cheeks. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. he hates that such beauty has been suffering in so much silence.

“(y/n), I love you more than anything in this goddamn world. please don’t- don’t keep doing this to yourself. if you’re hurting, come to me. hurt me if you have to lash out, but don’t hurt yourself beautiful.”

“i would never even think of hurting you, satoru.”

“then don’t think of doing it to yourself,” he says firmly, and you press your lips together.

“…i-i don’t know how to… to stop,” you mumble, and he’s taking your hands in his and kissing them gently.

“i’ll help you. we can get you help, baby, I promise. just promise me, please,” he begs you, holding your hands close to his heart. “you come to me when you feel like doing that, okay? you come to me. and I’ll do whatever I can. let me help you. let me be there for you. i won’t let you push me out, (y/n).”

you're crying again, tears streaking over your face as satoru’s love captures you within his words, within his warmth as he forces you to understand that you are not alone, and never will be.

satoru kisses your hands again. his lips reach your cheek, and his hand comes to tuck your head into his shoulder again, holding you and telling you that you have him to go to when your world grows dark.

geto suguru: if suguru could sum you up into one word, he would say that you're his universe.

everything in his life he does for the sake of you and his girls, for the sake of keeping you safe and making you happy. your happiness and your comfortability are the only things that suguru prioritizes above all else, making them his very goal to serve each and every day.

suguru's not the most stable, you know that and he knows that himself. he has his off days, where he falls quiet and the world around him numbs itself and the noise becomes a muffle in his ears until you step into view, giving him a smile and wrapping his big frame up in your small arms, your voice whispering to him and breaking through the fog. you're his sanctuary. you're his safe place, and he loves you so much. he owes his entire life to you, therefore ensuring that you feel just as loved as you make him feel is very important to him.

so when he catches sight of the scars on your stomach one day by accident, when you lift up mimiko to sit on your shoulder as nanako jumps up for you to pick her up to, and her shoe kicks up your shirt from your waist momentarily, suguru freezes.

are you hurt? did someone do this to you? did you do this to yourself?

countless thoughts are racing through suguru's mind as he stares at you in a daze, watching you laugh so joyfully along with the girls as though no trouble plagues you.

but there is. you've just been hiding it. hiding it far too well.

his mind is elsewhere for the rest of the day, unsure of if he had been imagining things or not. he knows you so well, or at least he thinks he does. how have you been hiding those marks littering your lower abdomen? how had he missed them?

he thinks back to the moments you two were intimate and recalls that you never wanted to remove the tanktop you wore or let him kiss further than your ribs. he recalls the days you all went to the beach and you kept a white shirt over your swimsuit or elected to wear a onepiece. he recalls how quickly you change when he's with you, your back turned to him as you rush to throw something on over your upper body.

the signs... they're all there. you've been hiding yourself from him, but why? what have you been doing? have you truly been harming yourself, or is that thought a trick of suguru's worst fears?

he tries to keep himself calm around you and the girls for the remainder of the day until they are put to sleep and the two of you are alone again.

you sit on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing lotion over your arms with your back facing suguru again. he watches you carefully, back resting against the headboards and hazel eyes trained on your figure as though you aren't real.

he waits for the proper moment, waiting for you to crawl up and curl under his side, his arm subconsciously wrapping over your waist as your head lays on his chest. he stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking as weighty silence overcomes you, then he's cautiously speaking.

"(y/n)?"

the soft call of your name brings your head up to peer at him curiously, blinking innocently. he turns down to look at your face and his heart clenches. while he knows that he knows what he saw, he doesn't want to believe it. he doesn't want to think that you, such a selfless and caring person for him, would hurt yourself.

you hum up at him, wondering what he has called you for. you see the pensive look in his face, the subtle knit in his brow as he stares at you, gears in his head turning. "yeah sugu?" you say gently.

he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. he doesn't want the confirmation, but he needs to know.

"i want to ask you a question..." he says, and you grow slightly befuddled.

"...okay?" you start. "is it serious?"

"yeah, it is," he admits, and you suddenly grow nervous, immediately catching an idea of what this could be about. you don't like the look on his face, the way he appears so serious.

"...alright," you mumble, suddenly meek.

the black haired man stares for a few more moments, just looking at you, taking in your the features he feel so deeply in love with, the features that bring him comfort and peace. "i saw something earlier, when you were holding mimiko," he begins softly, thumb caressing your back to ease you into the conversation.

you feel your heart jolt anxiously, trying to keep a straight face so as to not give your nerves away, but knowing suguru, he could likely already tell that you're getting antsy.

you lift your head to look at him, hand resting over his chest, and his eyes follow you smoothly. his eyes are focused, lips in a firm line.

"your shirt lifted, and i saw your stomach. i saw some marks. a lot of them, actually," he says, and you still completely, like a deer caught in headlights. his hand presses gently into your back, trying to keep you present with him as his concerns grow worse when he sees you stiffen against him. he frowns, denial still taking hold of him. "(y/n), please tell me those aren't what i think they are," he sighs heavily.

you feel caught.

you knew that suguru would find out at some point or another, but that didn't make this moment any less horrifying for you. it's so quiet in your room, so isolating, no background noise of the girls giggling or the distant buzz of the tv to help weaken the intensity of this point in time. you feel like a spotlight is shining overhead, an audience awaiting eagerly for you to reveal your secrets to the crowd.

suguru sits up slightly, his calmness gradually shifting into terrified incredulity. your eyes are on his face but your gaze is elsewhere, far off. you look uncomfortable, stuck, and no explanation hits suguru's ears.

"(y/n)," he says your name again, looking desperately down at you. "tell me i'm wrong."

you wish you could, you really do, but you can't lie to suguru. he knows you too well, he loves you too much, and to lie to him would be like denying his understanding of who you are.

you feel your skin flush with shame and anxiety, heartbeat likely loud enough for your boyfriend to hear.

you worry. you worry about your boyfriend's judgment, for his reaction. is he going to be angry with you?

"hey," he snaps you out of your daze with the drag of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he stares at you helplessly. you look at him and frown, ashamed that you are the reason he looks so pained. "what's going on?"

the question comes out so delicately, it makes your heart break. a whisp of understanding blends into his tone with empathy, yet a crushing sense of sadness and guilt that overpowers the aforementioned emotions. you struggle to look him in his kind eyes, dreading his consolation that you feel you don't deserve.

"talk to me, (y/n)."

you chew angrily on the inside of your lip, looking down at your finger as you pick at his shirt. he watches your brows furl, an array of different feelings capturing your features. "i was gonna tell you about it..." you murmur, and suguru is floored.

"what?" he breathes out as though he has no more air. you wince, lowering your head. "you-" he pauses, mind jumping from one place to another. "you did that to yourself?"

"i'm sorry, i-" you can feel your throat growing tight. "i've been trying to-"

"to stop?" he tries to finish for you, grasping for any kind of explanation. he's devastated, not only because you've been harming yourself, but because you've been so busy looking after him and the girls that he hasn't noticed. you're the one who always comforts him, but while you've been doing that, you've been aching on the inside and trying to hide it.

you nod meekly when he concludes for you. "i just- i thought the feelings would go away, so i didn't say anything, but they're just getting worse and i don't know what to do anymore and i only feel better after i..."

"(y/n)," he stops you gently, his heart shattering upon listening to you ramble, spilling out the things you have been holding onto for what he assumes to have been so long. "you've been dealing with this all this time?"

"...it's on and off," you confess. "some days are better than others, but..."

suguru finds your words familiar, for he often finds himself in the exact same mindset; feeling functional and confident some days, and others, not so much, but you're the reason why he's able to handle his bad days, yet he hasn't been the same for you for as long as the two of you have been together.

he feels almost sick. he loves you to death. you're his everything, but you've been in pain, and he hasn't seen it.

the way he's looking at you now makes you feel guilty, remorseful, embarrassed. you know you should have told him, but you could never find the strength to. you had always been too scared. and the longer you self-harm, the less you are willing to admit to yourself and to your boyfriend that you have a problem.

you're shocked, though, when suguru's hands tighten over you and his face grows bitter, not with you but with himself. "how could i have been so stupid?" he grumbles, distraught. "and so selfish? all this time, you-"

"no, suguru, please, it's not your fault," you try to tell him.

"i should have seen, baby, i should have noticed something sooner. and all this time, instead you've been looking after me when i should have been looking after you."

"don't say that, suguru," you shift, looking sadly into his eyes. "it's my fault. i'm the one who did this, i'm the one who's to blame. i'm the stupid and selfish one, not you."

suguru's frown deepens, sad eyes looking over your face. you blame and belittle yourself just as easily as suguru does, and he can't stand it. he can't stand to see you like this, to be so aware of hurt before him. he wants, no, he needs to take all that pain away from you. he needs to exorcize it, rid your body of it, cast it away so that you can be happy from now until the rest of time. he needs you to be okay.

"i swear on my life, (y/n)," he begins firmly, eyes boring straight into yours, holding your cheek. "i will do everything in my power to get you through this. whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, i will be here for you. you're not alone, you understand? you don't need to pretend for me. the girls love you- god i love you so fucking much, and i can't stomach to think of the times you've suffered in silence for my sake. i'm no good if you're no good, baby. i need to know these things, i need to be able to help you."

your nose twitches and your jaw clenches as you look into him, breathing growing unstable. suguru has always been so generous and so loving. he has a way with his words and how safe they make you feel even during your worst moments.

"but what if i can't do it, sugu?" you whisper, his thumb catching the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. "what if i'm not strong enough to get better?"

"you are strong enough," he affirms confidently. "more than strong enough. and when you feel weak, lean on me. but you have to promise me something."

you nod slowly, mutely, keeping his gaze as he stares at you lovingly, wistfully.

"promise me you won't do it," his words come out as a quick, hasty breath. his brows curl further upward, his desperation plain on his pretty face. "promise me you'll let me know as soon as you want to, but don't hurt yourself again, (y/n). don't do it. i'm begging you. you don't deserve that pain."

though you are unsure if you can even make that promise to yourself, you force yourself to try. for suguru's sake. "okay," you mumble, and he sighs, kissing you softly and pulling you to his chest to whisper sweet nothings as his hands soothe over your stomach and your back.

nanami kento: you twist your fingers around each other as you sit in the living room while kento cooks in the kitchen. you're nervous, more nervous than you have been about anything in your entire life, but you know that you need to rip off this bandaid to approach your boyfriend about such a serious matter.

recently, you find yourself returning to the old habit that you believed to have been relinquished. you thought that you had gotten better, that the urge to self harm had completely gone away after having spent so much time in therapy trying to heal, but recently, you've been feeling down again, useless, angry with yourself. you didn't want to tell nanami at first because you didn't think that your current mood would go beyond feeling depressed, but now that you've started scratching away at your thighs and your arms again, you know that you need to let him know what's going on. you know that you can't go on like this anymore.

but you have no idea what to say.

nanami has been nothing but doting toward you, bringing you flowers every morning, making your meals, ensuring that you remember to schedule doctor's appointments or to keep yourself warm when it's cold out- the man's life revolves around your comfortability, and while you know he would be far more offended if you keep this to yourself, you're horrified to see his reaction when you tell him that you relapsed.

nanami is well aware of your past difficulties with your mental health, and he always tells you that if you are ever in a dark space again, he needs to know. even so, he hasn't been with you when you're like this. the two of you got together after the multiple therapy visits that helped you to shift mindsets, so now that you feel this way again, and while in a relationship with nanami no less, you feel petrified.

you don't even notice when he rounds the kitchen counter to make his way over to the dining table, setting down two plates of food. he looks over and catches the way you stare ahead blankly, lost in thought. you've been doing a lot of that lately and he wonders if something is wrong.

nevertheless, he knows that if something is bothering you, you'll tell him. "sweetheart, dinner's ready," he calls out, and you snap your head over to him, his voice bringing you out of your daze.

you stand wordlessly, movements somewhat robotic, as you slowly make your way over to the table. "thanks, ken," you say softly, lacking your usual energy, and at this point, your partner knows for certain that something is off.

he watches you carefully as you sit down, pushing in your seat for you and pecking your forehead before sitting down next to you. "tell me how your day was," he starts, brushing off his hands and reaching one out to rest one on your knee as he always did at the table. he's prying, you can tell, trying to learn if something that happened throughout the day affected your mood.

your heart is hammering loudly, your eyes stuck to the plate and unable to look up at him. "it was okay," you respond.

"just okay?" he questions and you nod slowly. "did something happen?"

you flicker your eyes up to his brown ones suddenly, caught off guard by the question. he sees the questioning in your eyes and replies accordingly.

"you seem to be a little off, this evening, that's all."

you hum, unsure of how to respond to his observation. you look away again, contemplating. just say it, you think. just tell him, just get it over with.

as you struggle against yourself, nanami only grows more concerned. you don't confirm or deny his comment, and the way you turn away has him wondering if he's done something to hurt you.

"did i do something wrong, darling?" he asks.

you furrow your brows and quickly shut down the idea. "no, no. not at all, ken. it's nothing you did."

"then... there is something troubling you?"

you stall a bit more now that you're on the spot, cursing the fact that kento is always so quick to pick up on the smallest changes in your demeanor.

"(y/n)?" he calls you when you don't answer.

"i have to tell you something," you say abruptly. you see nanami's brows raise ever so slightly, soft brown eyes looking over your face in an attempt to read the situation before you tell him anything. "it's... a lot. so i need you to just... bear with me. and please don't be mad."

nanami's brow twitches slightly as he looks at you, head tilting. he grabs the bottom of his chair and shuffles it closer to you, leaning over slightly and running his hand over where it resides on your knee.

"i could never be mad at you," he tells you earnestly, as though it's the most honest thing he's said in the world. "what's the matter, my love?"

god, he's so sweet to you it makes you physically ill that you have to break this news to him.

"...do you remember when we talked about... um..." your voice fades off, nanami's concentrated gaze only making you more nervous for what his reaction will be.

"take your time," he encourages you, and you only feel worse.

you return to chewing on the inside of your lip anxiously, picking at your shirt under the table. the blonde man beside you is ever so patient, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you verbalize them.

"...um...it's.... about what we talked about a while ago..."

"...and that would be regarding?"

"my... past."

nanami furrows his brows, still not quite understanding. "i apologize, honey, what about your past?"

just rip the bandaid. just rip the bandaid.

"my past with self-harming," you rush out, and the weighty silence that follows is enough to make you want to sink into the floor and let it swallow you whole.

you can feel his eyes burning into you, processing what you just told him, and all you can hear is the pound of your heart in your ears as his hand stills upon your knee.

nanami, on the other hand, is completely shocked by your revelation. while he understands that your relapsing has always been a very realistic possibility, he never wanted to entertain the idea that it could very much so happen- at least, not while he's around.

a sense of fear grips him. are you going to tell him that you relapsed? have you already hurt yourself? has he failed to be there when it happened??

"did you-" he doesn't know what he wants to ask, or how. he hates that he is already jumping to conclusions, but the way you are structuring this conversation with him only leads him to believe the worst. "what happened?"

your head hangs low and your fingers taut on your shirt, lips tightening as they press together. you can hear the disbelief in his voice already, and it breaks you.

"i relapsed."

the brown-eyed man clenches his jaw, falling completely silent once more to not react in a way that may worsen your state. you feel his hand tighten into a fist over top of your leg as he lowers his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and inhaling sharply. you feel like a child who is awaiting punishment as you look at his hunched state, a million questions of what he will do next running through your mind.

you hate to do this to him. nanami already has so much on his plate, you know this is the last thing he needs to be stressing over. you wish you could be okay for him. it's not his fault that your mind takes you to these places, and you don't want him to bear responsibility as though it is his doing. even so, you already know that he will because that's the type of man kento is. that's the type of boyfriend kento is.

you wait a few more moments in unbearable muteness. after what feels like forever, kento lifts his head again and rests his chin on his fist, elbow propped on his knee. he's looking to the side, deep in anguished thought. he no longer looks surprised, but rather guilty and frustrated. "when?" is the first thing he asks.

"yesterday," you answer dejectedly, and he almost jerks, his body twitching in reaction. "...are you mad?"

nanami looks at you and his hardened expression immediately softens into something melancholy. "no- no, of course not, (y/n), no," he shakes his head as if the notion is unfathomable, releasing his fist to cup your knee again more securely. "i will never be angry with you for what you're going through. never. no, i'm not mad."

you nod quickly, a meek sense of relief and sorrow taking over you, a weight heaving from your chest upon letting it out. "okay," you whimper.

"come here, my darling," he coaxes you softly, opening and grabbing your hand from under the table delicately to lead you to stand over him. his hand guides over the small of you're back once you're up, leading you to sit on his lap with your back pressed against the table and your legs dangling over one side of his chair.

he holds your forearms gently, looking up at you with sad, understanding eyes. "are you comfortable showing me?" he murmurs so intimately, easing you into his warm consolation.

you don't nod or answer him verbally. instead, you wordlessly roll up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal angry red scratch lines running up your inner forearm. nanami's lips curl in pain as though he can feel the sting of your scars, holding your arm gently for him to look over it.

the sight kills him, though he tries to keep his cool. this isn't about him, it's about you, but goodness, the image of the scars on your beautiful skin makes him hurt like no other pain he's experienced.

"is this all of it?" he asks you, and you shake your head.

"there's some on my thighs," you mutter, looking down.

he nods. "alright," he sighs. "alright."

"...i know you have so much on your plate already... i just-"

"don't. don't even," he stops you, eyes still roaming over your irritated skin. nanami usually commends himself for remaining collected in times of crisis, but he's desperately fighting a part of him that wants to yell out and cry for the sake of you.

he imagines you struggling with this on your own, long before he came into your life, and the thought makes him cringe to picture just how far this must have gotten. these scratches he is surveying now already look bad enough. were the other ones worse?

"(y/n), you know this isn't okay," he looks up at your face and sees how you are avoiding his eyes. you look so small compared to how you usually carry yourself, and it kills him. "to harm yourself like this... you can't treat yourself this way, darling, you know you can't."

"i know," you mumble. "i just had a moment, and now i'm scared that- that i'll go back to how things were."

"as long as i'm with you, you won't. i promise you that," nanami swears. "it was just this one time since you last?"

you nod. "yeah..."

"okay," he nods once more, convincing himself that this is something he can help stop before it gets any more out of hand. "why'd you do it this time, my love? what were you thinking that led you here? is there something i can do differently? is it work? is it a combination of things?"

"i wish it were that easy to explain, kento," you frown, glancing up at him helplessly. "but it's just... it's just a feeling i can't put into words. i can't pinpoint the source. i just... one minute i felt like i couldn't breathe, and the next i was..."

"okay," he repeats, letting you know that you no longer need to say anything more. you don't have to revisit it. he understands. he will take care of it. he'll help you. "okay, darling. how about this. i call off of work tomorrow and we can sit and talk about seeing a new therapist. then we can go out and do whatever you want. just for fun. does that sound okay with you?"

your nose flares and your lips tug to the side as you nod, truly not comprehending how you managed to find a man so patient with you. "yeah, that's good," you say softly, and nanami is at least relieved that you are willing to take further steps into a better direction.

"good," he whispers, rolling the sleeve of your sweater back down so that you no longer feel exposed or feel like you have to think any more about the things you did to yourself when you felt alone. "it's alright, my love. we'll get through it. you'll get past this just like you did last time," he encourages you, moving to caress your shoulder lovingly as you hold his gaze. "it's okay," he tells you again, and you nod weakly, leaning over to plop your head against his shoulder.

nanami holds you to him and exhales, food completely forgotten. his only priority now is to be there for you in the ways he could not before the two of you met.

"thank you for telling me."

choso kamo: choso worships the ground you walk on because he can not fathom a world without, nor the fact that you happened to stumble into his life on a whim. to imagine you hurt is the very worst thing that the man can think of, and the notion that you would hurt yourself is beyond his comprehension.

you aren't actively trying to hide any of your scars when he finds them. the scars are old, faded reminders of the pain that you used to endure and how you attempted to cope with it. while you are now six months free of self harming, the scars remain very present.

choso happens to catch sight of your scars when you are getting changed. he's sitting at the edge of your bed, face flushed, as he watches you blissfully change out of your pajamas and into clothes that you feel are best suited for a walk to the ice cream shop that choso has proposed. it's a bright sunday afternoon, and the brunette is eager to take advantage of the weather with the woman he holds close to his heart as well as his baby brother, who the two of you intend to meet at the store.

you're now dressed in nothing but a large white shirt and underwear, your legs bare as you strut around the space freely. choso's jade eyes follow you as you walk, completely obsessed with the way you move. he could watch you do the most mundane things for hours, which he truthfully tends to do anyway.

your back is to him before you round the bed, disappearing into the bathroom momentarily before coming back into the living room. choso's eyes still don't leave you, tracing over your face down your figure and finally to the front of your bare legs.

he falters, and his brows draw together when he catches dark marks littering over your inner thighs, only revealing themselves with the movement of your limbs as you walk.

the pale-skinned man grows confused and slightly concerned. he's never seen those marks on you before, and simultaneously, never on anyone else he knows either. he finds them to be a strange form of battle scars, especially due to the placement, the small size, and the sheer number of them. some of them take different shapes too, blurring together or over each other, while some stand out alone. they almost look like burns, but it's hard for choso to really tell.

you proceed about your business, searching through your drawer to pull out a skirt, when choso speaks up.

"love? what are those?" he asks curiously, perplexed.

you turn over your shoulder, shutting your drawer closed with your foot. "hm? what's what, cho?" you ask him, unsure of what he's referring.

choso, still slightly flustered by the vision of your half exposed body, nods his head into the direction of your lower legs. "those," he says again, and you look down, still lost.

you lift your foot momentarily, checking to see if something is stuck under or on top of it. you then survey the rest of your body, searching for something out of the ordinary. "uhhh," you trail off. "i'm not sure what you mean, baby. you're talking about my legs?"

you are far too desensitized to and familiar with the image of your scars to process that choso has never seen them before. the brunette, however, is unsatisfied, wanting an answer that you have yet to provide.

he leans forward, lifting his hand and pointing his finger directly to a patch of dark spots peeking out from your inner thighs. you follow his gaze, eyes landing on the culprits, and your shoulders drop in realization. "oh," you say shortly, choso retracting his hand.

he looks at you innocently, awaiting a response while you try to figure out how to explain this sight to him.

you don't want to worry him, but knowing choso, if you lead with the fact that these scars are there because you inflicted them onto yourself, he would have a heart attack, failing to find reason to your words.

even so, you know choso only wants to understand you as much as you desire to understand him. he wants to see the ugly parts as well as the beautiful parts of you that he is so drawn to, and if you hide it from him, that would only create a rift in your budding relationship that you aren't entirely too keen on creating.

you want him to know you, all of you, and these scars are as much of a part of you as the bones in your body and the blood pumping through your skin.

they're a sign of what you've been through, what you've overcome, and who you are now. they're important, and choso should know why they are there.

"that's a good question," you sigh, putting your skirt on the bed as you move to sit next to him at the edge of it. choso immediately turns to you, glancing over the marks shamelessly now that he has a better view of them.

"did someone do that to you?" is the first thought that crosses his mind, red drifting into his vision at the mere idea that someone has hurt you in such an intimate way.

"...no," you shake your head, lifting one leg up onto the bed, brushing his own, as the other dangles. "i put them there. a while ago," you explain honestly.

choso scrunches his brows tighter, eyes flickering up to your face then back down to try to identify what exactly the marks are. "what are they?" he repeats.

you exhale, puckering your lips as you prepare yourself for this difficult conversation. "they're burns, cho. from a match," you tell him.

now, the half-curse is incredibly confused. burn marks? on your lovely skin? in a place where only you could reach? put there by yourself?

you burned yourself?

"i don't understand," he frowns, shifting to face you better. "why would you..."

"i used to be in a really bad place, baby," you purse your lips, watching as his face contorts with consternation as he comes to understand that you purposefully harmed yourself.

"what do you mean? bad enough to do this to yourself?" he sounds mortified, his voice growing ragged the moment his tone picks up volume.

his pupils, moments ago blown pools of affection, are now shrunken dots of shock.

"don't look at me like that," you beg him, placing your hand over his own. his eyes snap to the sudden contact, then back to you with concern. "sometimes, when certain people are suffering from depression, or anxiety, or just overall bad thoughts and they feel like they have to... break out, or maybe punish themselves in a sense... they resort to hurting themselves."

choso gulps, lump forming in his throat as he listens to you with shaking eyes. "and that's what you did? you felt like you needed to punish yourself?"

"it's hard to explain to someone on the outside. i know it sounds... crazy, but it was the only way i knew how to cope with everything that i was dealing with."

"why didn't you come to me instead?" he immediately asks and you give him a sad, knowing look.

"because, we didn't know each other then, cho?"

"i don't care," he shakes his head, eyes keeping yours. "you should have found me."

the idea brings a hint of a smile to your lips, choso's sweetness warming your heart. "i didn't know who you were, baby, that would have been like begging a stranger for help."

"so?" he scoffs. "i loved you the moment i met you. it wouldn't have made any difference to me.

you sigh again, bringing your other hand to rest over top of your boyfriend's as you smile softly at him in an attempt to get him to calm down.

the panic is still written all over his face as he takes in your smile, the vision somehow only making him sadder. you're so gorgeous, inside and out, and that smile is only scratching the surface of your unending beauty.

to know now that your radiance was once outweighed by the torment in your mind encouraging you to harm yourself... well, it makes choso want to ball his eyes out. it makes him want to confront the physical manifestation of your past traumas and pummel it into the ground, bashing its head in for all the hurt that it has caused you.

"i ended up just fine, cho," you reassure him.

"why didn't you say anything before? were you trying to keep it from me?"

"no, baby, i just didn't think to tell you. i kinda forgot about them," you say, and that comment alone makes choso soften his features slightly.

"you forgot..." he recites your words. "does that mean you're better now?"

you hum in affirmation, smiling warmly. "it's been a while since i've hurt myself or done anything like that. i got through it. i'm okay now, these scars are just a permanent reminder of the past."

his frame sags slightly with relief, brows lifting as he looks over you with a blank expression. "i think i understand," he mumbles, looking back down at the marks. "i'm sorry you ever had to go through any of that."

"it's not your fault. you weren't there."

"i wish i had been. so i could have helped more. i know you said you're better, but maybe if i had been there i could've stopped you from hurting yourself at all."

"i wouldn't put that responsibility onto yourself, cho. it was my responsibility."

"still," his brows arch slightly. "i would have stuck with you every second of every day to make sure that you never had a second alone to do any of it. i wouldn't have let you, and i won't let you now." a thought seems to pop into his head when he finishes his last sentence. "you wouldn't go back to trying to hurt yourself, (y/n), would you?

you exhale. "i mean, i'd like to think i wouldn't, but sometimes these things aren't linear," you admit. "i just know that for now, i'm okay."

"the second you're not, though, you'd tell me?"

"yes. i would."

"you promise?"

"i promise, baby."

"okay," he sighs. "because i don't think i'd be able to function knowing you're upset."

the brown haired man leans over, carefully holding your thigh as he looks over your marks again, no longer flustered by your bare skin but entirely focused on the severity of your burns. you look down at him, hands slipping from his own as he surveys you closely like he's a doctor.

"they don't hurt anymore, do they?"

"nope. just scarred."

choso looks at you for a bit longer in silence before looking back up at you from his hunched state. "can i kiss them?"

you laugh softly, hand falling into his hair at you gaze at him with your heart aglow. "you want to kiss them?"

he nods. "so they can feel loved."

you coo, thumb smoothing over his temple as his eyes swell with adoration right before you. "of course you can."

toji fushiguro: toji is absolutely no stranger to scars. he's a human man with no cursed energy, having had his fair share of close calls on risky jobs that have left him with slashes over his calves, small pierces in his flesh, and cracked callouses. then, of course, there's the scar on his mouth bestowed upon him by his oh-so-loving family, which will be stuck with for the rest of his life.

scars follow toji like moths follow a flame, and he's numb to it. he believes that they are a part of life, both physically and mentally, especially with the kind of life that he leads. whether the wound is a large one or a small one he can barely see, he accepts scars as a part of who he is-

who he is.

while toji likes to parade around with a hardened exterior decorated with faded, scabbing wounds, that is something he deems fit for him and him only. he doesn't care what other people do with their lives as long as they leave him the hell out of it, but for the love of all the money that he has acquired over the years slaughtering sorcerers, he will be damned if he finds a single, tiny little scratch on your body.

scars are for toji, not for you, his darling little girlfriend and the day he finds out someone has hurt you enough to leave behind a mark is the day he's putting several bullets into the culprit's head.

toji's worst fear, though he hardly discusses it, is losing you and watching you get hurt. god, he practically lives to protect you, and to feel as though he has failed to do so would wound him detrimentally. he's a tough guy, but you make him so soft, and admittedly he wouldn't want to be soft for anyone but you. you're his rock, his little hot head, and he loves you more than life itself.

if you're hurt, he will lose it.

therefore, when he finds out that you're self-harming? oh, he's on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

he does a double-take when you step out of his room and into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your body, his eyes widening and his brows arching immediately.

now, toji knows your body inside and out. he's explored every inch, he knows every crook, every crevice, every mark, every texture, and he has never once in the six months you have been together seen the red lines over your inner wrist.

he watches you with twisted lips as you grab an orange from the counter before walking back into his direction. you're almost back into the room when toji calls you.

"uh uh," he stops you, and you pause, turning over your shoulder and purposefully moving your left wrist to press into your towel.

"what?"

"come here," he orders and you give him a strange look.

"why?"

"i wanna see somethin'. come here."

you're quick to snap back easily with your own sarcastic retort, clearly in a foul mood over something. "if you want to fuck, can you wait until i'm fully dried off and after i finish this?' you hold up the orange in your other hand, a perturbed look on your face.

"i don't want to fuck, (y/n), i want you to come here."

toji's voice comes out sternly, and on the verge of anger. you survey his posture, his arms leaning over his legs as he cranes to look at you with a suspicious, firm expression. you can tell that he's serious, and a sudden sense of fear overtakes you that you mask with annoyance.

you don't say a word when you slowly walk up to him, crossing your arms over your chest to conceal your wrist, the hand holding the orange tucked under your elbow.

"what is it?"

toji holds out his palm. "give it."

"...my orange?"

"put it in my hand."

you huff, carefully maneuvering your arm around to keep your inner wrist pointed toward your body as you bring forward the orange and plop it aggressively into his hand. toji watches your other arm the entire time, taking clear note of how you refuse to let your wrist show, and you know you're fucked.

the green-eyed man tosses the orange to the side of the couch and holds out his large palm again, eying you intensely. you look down at him with a frustrated frown, shrugging. "i don't have anymore oranges."

"don't be cute, doll."

"what? do you want my hand?"

"you know i want your hand."

you roll your eyes, raising the hand you had held your orange with when he stops you. "not that one. the other one."

your heart pangs, shaking your entire body as he looks to you expectantly. how the fuck had he managed to notice the scar on your wrist so quickly?

the moment you hesitate, he knows that what he saw earlier is something to be concerned about. you normally never hide yourself from toji, and the way you go about hiding your arm now is defensive enough to raise several brows. he knows you're not dumb, too. he knows that you know exactly what he wants to see.

"(y/n)." he cocks a brow, the severity of his demeanor only making you more uneasy.

he can't see. he can't see what you've just done. he'll hate you. he'll look at you like you're crazy.

"what if i don't want to give you my hand?"

"then i'll just grab it for you, and i don't think either of us wants to go there."

you release a trembling, aggravated breath. you can't get away with anything when toji's around, and while you ponder having chosen to get an orange later, you know deep down somewhere you wanted toji to see. you wanted him to help you, which is why you walked out of that bathroom half an hour after having put those scars on your arm.

"hand, now."

you turn your eyes away with a grunt, slapping your wrist into his hand facing downward. toji is quick to whip it upside once he has a grip on you, and his eyes seem to freeze over the sight of three fresh slices on your upper forearm up close.

his jaw clenches, then unclenches, then clenches and unclenches again as his lips twitch and his eyes adjust to the vision. you're hurt. not only are you hurt, but it looks as though you've recently been hurt. you've hurt yourself.

toji has a hard time figuring out what to do. he's not good with things like this, but he knows that seeing you with scars on your arm is quite literally about to set him off. he always imagined having to defend you from others who seek to hurt you, but never having to defend you from yourself.

he can't fathom it. he's struggling, the muscles in his eyes are twitching, and he can't handle it. he can feel his heart begin to race, unsure if he is angry or scared or mortified or devastated.

there are three lines in your arm. bright red. staring right back up at him.

and you put them there?

no way, you put them there.

but you did. clearly you did, or else you wouldn't be looking so guilty right now.

but when did you? how did you? why did you?

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to say. he swore he'd always protect you, but how does he even begin to try to protect you from yourself?

"are you out of your mind?"

the question leaves him rather calmly, a low inquiry that you are unsure is meant to be directed as an insult or a genuine ask.

you can't look at him. you don't even know what to think yourself. it had all happened so fast while you were in the bathroom, before you got into the shower.

one minute, you were staring angrily in the mirror, cursing your reflection as your wicked thoughts sprouted grubby arms and guided you toward the pair of brow scissors that you kept in your makeup cabinet on the left side of toji's bathroom.

you wanted to feel in control of the disdain you felt lurking within your soul. you wanted to feel something for fear that you would never be able to feel again, and before you knew it, you were dragging the exposed blade over your skin.

"d'you wanna explain why i'm looking at these cuts on your arm, (y/n)?"

and you know, you know that it's a bad sign when toji uses your name instead of the plethora of pet names he normally elects to call you: doll, princess, mama, girl, pretty baby- anything but your actual government name, and when you hear it roll from his tongue under these circumstances, you can only imagine what's going through his head.

you shift on your bare feet, looking down at your toes. "dunno," is all you say, and toji scoffs in disbelief.

"you don't know?" he emphasizes. "that's all you have to say?"

"if you wanna embarrass me, go ahead, toji. seriously, i'm tired."

"what the fuck makes you think i wanna embarrass you? i wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend walked out of the bathroom with cuts on her arm!"

you rip your arm away immediately when he yells, storming back off into his room and slamming the door behind you.

toji jumps up, suddenly frazzled. he doesn't want you alone in there. he doesn't want you out of his sight.

the navy haired man moves quickly to his door and grabs the handle, only to find it locked. he jiggles it harshly and bangs on the door. beginning to panic. "open the door, (y/n)," he shouts, meeting no reply.

little does he know, your back is pressed against the other side as tears crash over your cheeks. you don't know how you expected toji to react, but the look on his face just now and his tone of voice was enough to send you running off.

you feel ashamed, weak. you shouldn't have gone out there at all. you should have waited until you were dressed, discarding the whole idea of letting toji see what you did so that you could suffer in silence without his help, because what help could he truly provide anyway?

toji's a tough man, but he's soft for you. he would stand in front of a moving train for you. he would sacrifice his life for you, so when you don't answer, he imagines the worst.

"open the door," he says again, weaker, tugging desperately at the handle though he knows it won't budge. he knows he could break the door down, and he's prepared to until he hears you sniff amdist his pounding. he immediately stops, face dropping.

fuck.

this is bad.

he knew it was before, but for some reason, it's only now registering how bad this is.

you're in pain. you hurt yourself because you're in pain and you need him, but he doesn't know how to help you. he's never dealt with anything like this before.

his hand slides from the door and to his side, forehead knocking against the door though his other hand remains tight on the handle. he just needs to see you.

"princess," he mutters defeatedly. "don't make me kick this door in."

silence.

"please," he softens even more. "please, (y/n), let me in."

the house falls quiet once more and you give in. you feel so lost, and the only person who can at least comfort you, in his own way, is toji.

you slowly turn to unlock the door and step back as toji opens it swiftly, staring down at you with wide eyes and at least relieved to see that you haven’t done any further harm to your body.

he does, however, see your tears.

his face tightens as he bends down to scoop you up in an instant, your legs and arms tightening around him as you snivel into his shoulder, his large palms sliding over your body. he feels your small body tremble against him as he walks the two of you over to the edge of his bed, sitting down as you cling to him like a koala.

"i dunno what happened," you whimper into him. "i dunno why i did it. i dunno. i dunno."

you say it over and over, your voice as broken as toji feels listening to you.

he wishes he knew what to do. he wishes he was better equipped to handle this, but never in his worst nightmares did he dream that he would find you here, his fiery girl, the love of his life.

he's been so busy trying to protect you from the outside world that he hasn't even thought about the things that could harm you from within.

he stays silent as you babble to him through tears, holding you just like he knew how. he doesn't want to picture those scars on you. he doesn't want to picture what led you to put them there. he just wants to hold you, to at least let you know that he's here and he's not going anywhere. he may not know how to help, but he knows how to love you and he hopes that's enough.

"i'm not letting you out of my sight, y'hear?" he says gruffly into your ear and you nod meekly. "i'm not letting this happen ever again. not as long as i'm alive."

he mentally swears to rid your house and his of any and every sharp object he can find and to throw it all in a safe as you sink into him.

toji knows how to protect and toji knows how to fight. though he's more acclimated with fighting others, if he has to fight to protect yourself from your innermost demons, then hell, he will find a way to do just that.

sukuna ryomen: lord help you and lord help anyone within a fifty-mile radius when the king of curses discovers that you've been harming yourself.

sukuna is not at all very good with his words or his expressions of affirmations. he is a being of action, and he believes that he has proven his love for you enough by simply allowing you to be in his presence longer than anyone else ever has or ever will.

at first, when he sees a scar or two on your leg, he thinks its just an accident or a result of you being clumsy. then, three more pop up, then five, then far more than he's even willing to count, and he decides that this scar pattern is somehow intentional.

he knows no one else has marked them onto you because he is prepared to kill anyone who comes too close, especially if they have ill intentions. if you were in danger at someone else's hand, he would be the first to know and the person meaning you harm would be dead before they could even think about touching you.

therefore, when he sees that the only person normally within your company is him, uraume, and yourself, the process of elimination leads him to you.

he goes about confronting you rather harshly, as well, for he knows no other way to be.

you're out in the garden of his large residence one day, soaking up the sun, when you hear familiar, loud stomps heading your way from behind.

you turn around and squint to peer up at sukuna, who is standing over you with a menacing glare in his crimson eyes. you don't necessarily find this out of the ordinary, so you greet him as usual.

"hi, kuna," you say sweetly. "you good?"

he is not good. not at all, so he gets straight to the point. "come inside, woman."

you quirk a brow. "why? i just got out here?"

"do not question me."

"can it wait, like, fifteen minutes?"

"do you wish to live in the next fifteen minutes?"

you sigh, entirely too used to sukuna's facade of cruelty around you. you know by now that the king of curses would never dare to hurt you.

"i do intend, to live, yes," you smirk.

"then you will come inside as i have demanded."

"no, sukuna. i want to stay out here for a bit. i've been inside all day."

the pink haired man fumes, teeth grinding together in agitation. he doesn't want to delay this conversation any further than it has already been delayed, but of course, you choose to be difficult.

"very well, we will do this out here," he growls and you smile.

"good."

you don't prepare yourself for when sukuna grabs the back of your chair and whips out around to face him with the unpleasant screech of the legs against the cobblestone. you wince, then retract your face when sukuna lowers his to stare at you from mere centimeters away, one of his arms grasping to push up the lose leg of your shorts up to reveal the set of scars littering your skin.

your eyes go wide, his movements too quick for you to process all at once.

"are these your doing?" he hisses and you gulp.

"s-sukuna-"

"i did not ask for you to say my name. i asked if these scars are your doing."

his eyes are piercing, striking directly into yours. "what are you talking about?" you whisper shakily.

"are we going to pretend like you're an idiot now?" he snarls. he's so mean, but he feels it's for good reason. your body has been tainted, and for some reason, you have been doing the tainting. he needs to know why.

you shake your head weakly. "no..."

"then answer me properly. i will not repeat myself a third time."

you bite down on your lower lip, heart ringing in your ears. you didn't even know sukuna paid attention to you enough to catch wind of something like this.

"yes... i did this," you finally tell him, and sukuna is livid.

"and why would you be doing something so foolish? scars are not something you are meant to give yourself, human."

"please don't be a dick, sukuna, not right now."

"i am asking a perfectly reasonable question and i expect you to answer it," he glowers. "now."

"you wouldn't understand if i told you," you frown and he clicks his tongue.

"stop assuming things of me before i lock you inside of my room where you can not escape or even fathom doing something like this to yourself again under my supervision."

you curl your brows, frowning up at your boyfriend. "if i tell you, you'll call me foolish."

"because this is foolish," he grunts. "but i will not if my doing so will get you to fucking explain yourself."

you shake your head, looking down and contemplating before deciding to just get it over with so that he can stop putting you on the spot. "sometimes i just feel shitty," is all you elect to say.

but sukuna is hardly satisfied with this response. "so you choose to inflict pain upon yourself instead of calling upon me?"

"i told you, you wouldn't understand," you say. "it's not something i can easily explain to you either."

sukuna narrows his eyes. "fine."

he lowers himself to grab you legs and throw you over his shoulder. you squeal, grabbing onto his back as he begins to walk you back into his home and toward his room. "sukuna!" you kick your legs around. "put me down!"

"no. you're coming with me, and you're going to sit and talk me through every single thought that has crossed your little mind to make you think that injuring yourself in such a way is tolerable within the walls of my residence. then after that, you'll come with me everywhere i go from this point on."

"what?!" you exclaim from where you hang upside down. "I don't wanna go everywhere you go," you wine.

"too bad. you should have thought of that before you decided to harm yourself."

sukuna is horrible with words, and far more horrible with expressing his concerns, but despite your temporary discomfort with how he goes about approaching the situation, you can still see in the pinch of his brow and the stiffness of his posture, combined with his refusal to let you go without a proper explanation, that he cares very deeply for your wellbeing.

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bambiihee · 4 months ago

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college tutor jake drabble 👅👅 (as a struggling college student i need to be railed by him so bad)

AFTER CLASS! 심재윤

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ NSFW + MDNI! sim jaeyun x fem!reader ⸝⸝⸝ college au, nerd!jake, popular!reader, switch!jake, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, failed pull out, mentions contraception and birth control, creampies, dirty talk, slight breeding kink

[notes༚] this is bad. but i am practicing with writing off the cuff pwp again after not writing it for a while so my skills are rusty lol. not proofread, let me know of any mistakes!

There was no way this could actually be happening. Jake had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or somehow he had slipped into a coma— something, anything that would explain how you were on top of him, but your warm, sweaty skin feels awfully real under his greedy, groping hands.

he can’t stop himself from feeling you up, gabbing and squeezing fat handfuls of your ass as it shakes in his face; he’s been fantasizing about fucking you since he first laid eyes on you, two long years of yearning and being convinced that he would never get to. you were popular, a cheerleader, the life of the party… and he was just some nerd in a few of your classes. You never even looked his way.

Or so he thought.

Not only did you look at him, you approached him, and asked him to tutor you in your shared mathematics class— he was over the moon.

And now you were naked in his lap, textbooks and papers tossed carelessly onto his bedroom floor, sliding your dripping wet cunt up and down the shaft of his fat, throbbing cock. your hand looks so tiny wrapped around him, pretty nails looking so lewd covered in his precum.

“Do you want me to put it in, Jakey?” you look over your shoulder to coo at him sweetly, melodic voice like honeyed venom.

“O-oh, fuck.” Jake whimpers, his thick framed glasses fogging up from how hard he was panting. “Please! Oh my God, please, please—“

You giggle, delighting in how you’ve already fucked him stupid before you’ve even slid it in. “Alright, but you have to promise not to cum inside of me, alright? I’m not on the pill.”

The thought makes his head swirl. That pretty little pussy you keep flashing in his face is better than any porn he’s ever seen, and to see it creamy and leaking his cum? “O-okay…” he agrees unsteadily, not in the slightest bit confident in his pull out skills.

tortorously slowly do you align his tip to your entrance, blunt bulbous cockhead stretching your pussy lips wide apart to dip into your fluttering hole—

And stop. You shoot him an evil little smile, your eyes dark and daring, and you keep your hips completely still.

Jake just can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hips and tugs you backward, roughly sitting you on his cock in one fluid motion. your pussy’s so wet he slides in without resistance, impaling you impossibly deep. He swore he could feel himself knocking against your belly button.

The shriek you let out is ungodly, a beautiful broken cry that makes Jake's cock twitch. The sensation has you clenching down around him, whimpering as you try to adjust to his size.

“s-so fucking big!” you keen, your eyes rolling back in your head and your mouth dropping open into a perfect ‘o’, “s-so— ah!— it’s so deep, Jakey!”

“Shhh.” Jake soothes you, surprisingly strong arms holding you tight and beginning to bounce you up and down on his cock. His hips thrust up to meet you halfway every time, the force sending shockwaves of red hot pleasure through the both of you. Your pussy makes a filthy wet squelching sound every time your hips meet, drenching his lap in your juices. “Shhh, just take it.”

He pounds you relentlessly, his quick, rough pace never stuttering or slowing down. Your pussy feels like heaven, wet gummy walls squeezing around his throbbing cock and sucking him in deeper and deeper, like it was feeling greedy and begging for more.

“F-feels so f-fuckin’ good,” he whimpers, broad chest shaking with his unsteady breath, “I-I— ah, ah, ah! Fffuckk!”

You squeeze around him purposefully, peeking over your shoulder to watch his face as he loses himself in pleasure. His foggy glasses had slid down to the very tip of his broad nose, threatening to fall off.

When his eyes refocus, they meet yours, and the crooked, devious grin that stretches across his face makes your stomach flip.

Without warning his arm shoots up and grabs you by the back of the neck, shoving your face into the mattress. You’re bent completely over on all fours, spread open and immobilized while he jackhammers up into you. “L-love this pussy~” he moans, his words quickly losing meaning with his brains leaking out of his ears.

Your noises are muffled by the blankets, but Jake’s pretty sure they weren’t words anyway— just broken moans and mindless babbling. Your cunt pulsates around him, slick walls molding to every vein and curve, the pleasure of his cockhead bumping against your cervix pulling pathetic little whimpers from his plump lips that grow louder and louder as his ecstasy builds. He’s never felt pleasure quite like this before, so delicious and intense that it was bordering on overstimulating— his orgasm barrels towards him at an alarming speed, a familiar heat coiling deep in his belly far too soon for his liking.

“i-i’m— ngh! Fuck, i’m gonna—“

His climax hits him before he can even the sentence, only able to pull out halfway before ultimately spilling all of his seed inside your pussy. He watches, transfixed, as it begins to leak from your abused little hole, but he can feel your angry glare on him.

“Sorry...” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

“You’re buying me the warning after pill.” You reply grumpily.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake #jake x reader #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #jake smut #enhypen #enha smut

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stargirlygirl · 10 days ago

Text

first time with caleb (he's a sex worker)

sex worker/of model!caleb x virgin!fem!reader

summary: your fav of model is staying in your hometown for the next few months, so you book with him to have sex for the first time.

contains: nsfw, smut, protected sex, p-in-v, oral sex (both receiving), size difference (but reader isn't necessarily skinny), porn with plot (lots of it), religious metaphors, caleb's had a vasectomy, 15.8k words

heavily inspired by @heartyluv's camboy!caleb series

You’re a virgin. But you swear it’s not because you aren’t hot or something. You’re saving it, you know? Waiting for the right guy to come along. But that right guy is taking his sweet, sweet time.

Getting older, it’s quite frustrating to be a virgin when everyone around you (you swear) is at it non-stop. Your friends are constantly sharing their good and bad experiences, giving you a mixed bag of feelings on your abstinence. You’re not innocent, per se. Oh no. You’ve seen some things. And it’s because of those things that you’re having a crazy train of thought right now.

So, there’s this man. Of course, you don’t know him personally, but he’s such a catch. Charming, playful, and handsome, what more could a girl want? (I could name more, but let’s keep it here.)

You were first introduced to Caleb when he started OF a few years ago. It was his sweet features coupled with his fat cock that drew you to click on his first video. And you haven’t been able to stop clicking on them since. Even as his subscription price rose with his popularity, you’ve remained a loyal fan of his hard (😏) work.

You’re always one of the first fans on his lives, always donating extra money here and there to his righteous cause, and always leaving meaningful comments on his work. You’d like to think he knows you. Or at least, knows how lonely you are. I mean! How good his videos are. Yeah. Cause they’re reeeeaaaaaally good. Best orgasms you’ve ever had are while watching this man pump his thick length for thousands of fans.

His collabs are cool, too. Stunning co-stars, great banter, and hot sex. But, when you watch them, this pit in your tummy forms. You know that’s crazy talk, but you can’t help it. You’ve known him longer than they clearly have. But, you don’t know him.

And at this moment, you’re thinking of changing that. Someone seriously needs to restrain you as you scurry around your apartment for your phone, like an anxious dog. And you pant like one, drool dripping onto the screen as you tap open a certain app and head to Caleb’s profile.

He announced a few days ago he would be in your home city, living with friends for the next few months while his luxury apartment is renovated. Your heart races as you start typing out your message to him.

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’ve been a fan of yours for a while now and

Dear Caleb, it’s

Hey there, Ca

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’m a big fan of yours and I heard you were

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’m a long-time fan, and I saw that you’re staying in [your home town] for a few months. I was wondering if you were still taking bookings?

The cursor-line blinks back at you, waiting for your next move. An onslaught of thoughts hit you like a train. What’re you doing?!! He’s never going to respond. Should I attach some money to this? But what if he’s not doing bookings? Is this giving desperation?

Sighing, you do the only logical thing in this situation and delete your message press send. You squeal and throw your phone onto the couch, utterly petrified by what your yearning just drove you to do.

Standing up, you pace around the living room, contemplating whether to delete your message and pretend it never happened when your phone dings. You flinch at the ping. Could it be—No.

“It’s just LinkedIn or AliExpress or something, okay?” You tell yourself while retrieving your phone. Oh fuck. You click on the notification. It takes you back into the chat section of OF. Staring back at you is Caleb’s reply.

hey y/n. yeah, you’ve been following me since i first started. really appreciate it, pretty. i’m still taking bookings. do you have a day in mind?

Your fingers are trembling and palms sweaty as you type out your response.

I was thinking this Friday, if you’re not busy?

This Friday?! That’s too far away. Wait. That’s too soon! You’re gonna have to get waxed and buy lingerie and maybe stock up on your favourite perfume just in case and—

fuck, i’m busy this friday. how about next saturday?

Thank the Lord. You sigh as you reply:

Yeah, sounds great.

You’re about to bite your nails from how much you’re stressing.

I’ve never done this before, sorry. I’m like really nervous rn.

Just as you’re about to delete that last message, Caleb’s response pops up.

that’s okay, honey. we can do four hours saturday night? dinner and intimacy

You swear your face is on fire as you click send without even thinking.

Can we do more?

You groan and cover your face with one hand. Screaming into it frustratedly, you look back at your phone.

course, pretty. we can do overnight yeah?

Overnight?! You’re in shock. 1) Because you’re texting THE Caleb Xia. The man who you’ve been watching fuck his fist (for the most part) religiously for years. And 2) because he’s suggesting you spend a whole night together? Where do I sign up?

Yeah, I like that.

You hesitate, wondering whether you should spill the beans now on why you reached out in the first place. But you don’t have to wonder because he asks:

soooooo what do you wanna do with our time together?

You resign to take a shower as soon as everything’s sorted out because by the Heavens, you are sweating up a storm amid the blizzard your AC is unleashing upon your apartment.

Oh haha yeah so it’ll be my first time

Silence. Complete silence for the next two minutes from the OF model as you sit there, anxiously shaking your foot while waiting for his reply. Did you say something wrong? Did you just ruin everything? Your phone finally buzzes.

i see, honey. well, make sure you practise before saturday. you know what to expect, yeah?

Oh. The most important detail— his fat ass cock. You’re cooked.

Haha yeah I will, promise. So is there anything I need to know? Like, do I book a hotel room or something?

You two continue texting for the next ten minutes or so, working out all of the details of next Saturday night. You’re plan is to meet up at a classy restaurant before heading back to your place. To secure you’re booking, you transfer him a 30% deposit.

thanks, honey. i’ll see you next sat

You can’t stop the goofy grin on your face as you reply:

Sounds good! I’ll see you then

Smacking your phone down on the coffee table, you collapse on the couch cushions and squeal excitedly. You’re in disbelief that this is actually happening, but your suddenly poorer bank account provides evidence for the affirmative.

By the end of next week, you won’t be a virgin anymore. Your heart swells with elation at the thought, but tingling nerves puncture the sweet feeling.

Let me revise that: by the end of next week, you won’t be a virgin anymore, BUT on a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to manage taking Caleb’s massive cock? Your current rating isn’t looking so good.

The OF star’s text message replays in your mind. Make sure you practise before saturday. You know what to expect, yeah? Dear Lord, do you know what to expect. Maybe you should have went with someone a bit more… reasonable. The thought makes your heart pang.

If you’re going to do this with anyone, then Caleb is the right choice. He’s always yapping away in his videos, making his fans feel so comfortable yet flustered at the same time. You hope he’ll be somewhat similar in real life. You know he will be!

But you also hope he’s different. You hope you’ll get to see a new side of him, maybe one solely reserved for you. Someone call your therapist because the delulu is speaking again.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

It’s 2pm when your phone buzzes. You smile and nod at the nail technician, silently requesting for permission to grab your phone. The nail tech nods back at you, and you fish it out of your bag with only nail extensions on. Your heart rate spikes.

It’s Caleb.

Clicking on his message, it reads:

[image attachments]

hey honey, here’s my test results. all clear for tonight. i’ll see you at 7

You grin stupidly, a warmth bubbling within as you text back:

Thanks! I’ll see you then

You tap on the documents Caleb sent you. They’re pathology results. HIV, Hepatitis B and C, Chlamydia, and so on as you swipe through. Your thumb freezes on the last test.

Semen analysis. Sperm count: 0. Sperm motility: 0. Sperm concentration: 0.

You stare at your screen, blinking dumbly as you read over the results again and again. Now, you’re no doctor. But you can read a sperm count. Caleb said he got the all clear. And damn it seems he really meant it. No STIs or sperm? You’re winning on all fronts tonight!

Locking your phone, you drop it into your bag and switch hands. You place your now gelled nails under the LEDs while the nail tech slathers more gel onto your other fingernails.

“Boyfriend?” The nail tech asks.

You laugh breathily, “Yeah.” A lie, but there was no way you were about to explain who you were seeing tonight.

When you tried explaining what you had signed up for to your friends, you got some very different reactions. Your long-time best friend was critical but supportive, while your other friends either thought you were crazy or wanted to throw a party for you because it’s about damn time you got laid.

It’s already past 3pm once you leave the nail salon, so you book it back home to start getting ready. You’re going all out tonight: shower, glowy body oil, special occasion makeup, and even styling your hair. You know he likes a bit of bush, so you trimmed yours in anticipation.

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror while your music blasts in the background. Smoothing your hands down your minidress, you turn to the side to admire yourself.

Your nerves spike at the thought of sharing your body with Caleb tonight. Sometimes, self-love is hard. But you’ve done everything you can to make yourself look good and feel good for your date, and that’s enough.

Snatching your phone from the vanity, you check the time. 6:22pm. You head to your dresser and pick out your jewellery. Some classy pieces, some unique ones. Finishing the look off, you slip on a pair of kitten heels and grab your bag.

It only takes 15 minutes to drive to the restaurant from your house. But for some reason unbeknownst to you, every man and his dog are on the roads at 6:30pm.

You groan in frustration as yet another beat up rust bucket cuts you off. What’s taking so long?! The red light flicks to green but there’s no movement. And when there finally is some, it’s this leisurely crawl across the intersection.

The beetles scurry as you blare your horn. Even the traffic light is intimidated by your sudden road rage. It can hear your screaming and cursing the very existence of driving as you make it past the stop line on orange.

Somehow, you manage not to rear end someone by the time you reach the restaurant. After parking, you race to the glass double doors, your heels clacking on the pavement. Throwing the door open, you stop at the host stand and fix your likely dishevelled appearance. Your heart races and you fan your face, eyes frantically drifting around the cosy restaurant.

Soon, the waiter greets you and you give your name. Leading you to the back, they inform you that your date has already arrived. And then you see him.

The smooth jazz and constant chatter melt into the periphery as your heart skips a beat from his beauty. Soft features, but you know what lurks beneath. An angelic trap. An incubus luring you in with his seductive ways. If his mere presence could be considered seduction (you’re certain it can).

He hasn’t even noticed. No, he’s occupying himself with rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table, seemingly out of boredom.

Once you draw closer, he gazes up. Those eyes lock on you; their depth is like the grape and chiffon sky as the sun is swallowed by the horizon. You smile reflexively, and so does he. Blood rushes in your ears. You swear you’re about to pass out from how ecstatic-anxious you are right now.

Stopping at your table, the waiter gestures to the empty side of the booth.

“Hey,” Caleb grins, a brightness in his eyes.

You giggle nervously, “Hi,” while sliding across the maroon cushions.

“I’ll get you some table water,” the waiter announces before leaving you two alone.

Shoving your clutch to the side, you start apologising profusely, “I’m so sorry I’m late. The traffic was actually insane like, I swear. I literally left at—” Caleb grabs the hand you were making gestures with and brings it to his lips. They’re incredibly soft. Your eyes widen. Pulling back, he swipes his thumb over the delicate skin he just kissed.

Caleb wears a gentle smile as he reassures you, “It’s okay, pipsqueak. Can I call you that? Pipsqueak?” You nod, a goofy grin on your face like you’re back in high school, talking to your crush for the first time.

The waiter returns and sets down two glasses. They pour water for you two before handing out the menu to look at. As they fade into the flurry of tables and other bustling waiters, you open the menu. The first thing you see is not the exquisite options they have to offer, but the bank-breaking prices you’re gonna have to pay for them.

“$68? For… for an entrée?” You mumble thoughtlessly, skimming through the other pages to see how much worse it gets. You’re already paying over $1k to sleep with Caleb tonight, you can’t afford over $100 for a meal.

Your date chuckles, “Don’t stress, pips. I’ll cover the bill.” Gazing up, you stare at him like he’s grown a second head. After a moment, you regain your composure.

“No, no, that’s okay. It’s chill or whatever,” you try to say nonchalantly.

He raises an eyebrow while echoing your words, “’It’s chill or whatever’?”

“I mean— Argh I’m just really nervous, sorry,” you blurt out.

“I’m just really excited to meet you and obviously like for later tonight. Like I’ve been following you for ages so like, this is really cool and—” Caleb’s chuckle cuts you off. He covers his mouth, attempting to cough it off, but it’s clear that he’s laughing at you.

“What?” You ask, your brows drawing together in confusion.

He shakes his head, a big grin on his face as he responds, “You’re really cute. And you look gorgeous tonight. You know that, right?” Your lips part, words dying on your tongue like flames doused by floods. The embers burn, thoughts tip-toeing around the edges of your mind as you forfeit coherence.

“I…” You start. Caleb returns to browsing his menu, comfortable to leave you sputtering and staring from across the table.

“Ooo, how about the coconut caviar oysters to start us off? You like seafood, yeah?” He asks cheerily. Looking at your own menu, you exhale a long breath.

“Yeah, I don’t mind seafood. But what about the wagyu?” You congratulate yourself mentally for not embarrassing yourself for ten seconds.

Your date suggests, “We can get the wagyu if you want, honey.”

“O-okay,” you say quietly. Your palms are positively perspiring with how warm it is inside. The low lighting and quiet atmosphere are almost too moody. And with this hottie sitting opposite you, you’re sure your cheeks are red right now.

The menu items are like a jumble of words, half of them are places before specific food items. Is this what fine dining is? Food from ‘exotic’ locations served in tiny portions at whopping prices? You guess so.

Oh shit!

You drop your menu on the table, your hands frantic as they feel up the booth cushions for your clutch. Your sudden movements attract Caleb’s inquisitive stare. His eyes flicker between you and his menu out of courtesy, though they don’t miss how you search around in your bag like you’re digging for gold. You retrieve a white envelope and hold it out to him. Your date lowers his menu.

“This is for you,” you breathe out. Eyeing you, Caleb slowly takes tonight’s payment from you.

Leaning forward, he murmurs, “You could have given this to me later, pips. I know you’re good girl.” Your soul leaves you body and travels skyward. That’s where you are, glimpsing this moment from the dark heavens above.

“Haha yeah, it’s—”

“Chill or whatever?” He interjects. Again, your mind goes blank. But that’s okay. All you want to do right now is carve the image of Caleb smirking at you into your memory. At you. Not at the camera, where his fans are watching him from as he mutters the filthiest praise from the sweetest lips.

No, he’s here with you, right now. And he’s teasing you.

You observe as he picks up his menu and appears to read it reverently. The glowy drop light overhead brings out the peach tones in his eyes, and catches on the light freckles dotting his face.

You feel like such a creep for staring at him, but you can’t help it! He’s just so attractive. His shoulders are even broader in real life, or maybe that’s the blazer’s doing. Either way, he looks HOT in his suit.

“Something on my face?” Your date asks, glancing up at you with that slight smirk still on his lips. You shake your head.

“No, you’re just really handsome. I’m sure you get that a lot, but like. Like obviously online, you look super hot. But like in real life, it’s actually insane,” you babble. You know you shouldn’t let your mouth run, but he deserves to be complimented. Or—

“Sorry, is that weird? Am I being weird, right now? I’m being weird, aren’t I? Literally forget I just said that—”

“I can’t. I have reeeaaally good memory,” Caleb interrupts you, again. But you don’t mind. It’s not that annoying kind of interruption where you can only get two words out before a man answers his own question.

You laugh quietly, feeling slightly more at ease as you notice the tips of your date’s ears turning red.

“Sorry,” you apologise, bringing your hand to your mouth, reminiscent of how he did minutes ago.

Caleb shakes his head and shrugs, “You don’t have to keep apologising, pipsqueak. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Wow, they really need to turn down the heater because it’s warming up in here.

A hushed “Oh” falls from your lips as the waiter returns.

“So, what can I get you started with?” They ask, readying their tablet. You gaze at Caleb expectantly.

Turning to the waiter, he rattles off your order, “We’ll get the wagyu for starters. My date would like the—” Caleb casts you a glance, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

Fumbling with your menu, you hold it up to the waiter and point at one of the main options.

“Whatever this is, please,” you say.

“I’ll get that, too. And the apple-macadamia tart for dessert,” Caleb continues.

The waiter taps away at the screen, asking habitually, “Anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” your date answers while collecting the menus. He hands them to the waiter, who then moves on to another table.

Shifting back to face you, Caleb grins, “Soooo, what made you reach out to me?” As if your cheeks couldn’t burn any brighter.

You shrug awkwardly, averting your eyes to the bar nearby, “Well, you know, you, uh… you’re staying here for a while, right? And I live here so…”

“I figured.” You can feel him undressing you with his captivating eyes. They notice the deepening shade of your blush, and how you fiddle with your necklace out of nervousness.

Not to mention, Caleb can feel the vibrations of your tapping foot. Oh, how wants to grab it and set it on his lap, maybe rub your ankle and sole while he’s at it to help with your anxiety.

Seeing your determination to stare at the shelves of spirits, he says, “I was really shocked, you know.” Your head whips back immediately, your gaze focusing on him.

“About what?” You ask, urgency lacing your tone.

Caleb grins, glad to have your full attention, “That you texted me. You’re my biggest fan, but you never asked for anything from me until now.”

You’re anxious as you clarify, “Was I supposed to? Or was I not supposed to? Or—”

“Jeez, pips. Relax,” your date exhales. You nod, crossing your legs to stop them from bouncing.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off, “And don’t apologise.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan, “Fine, fine, I won’t.”

“Good,” he says with a certain finality. It’s quiet between you two momentarily, the cosy jazz filling the space your conversation doesn’t.

Then, you pipe up, “Am I really your biggest fan?” Caleb nods, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

You gaze away for a second as you mumble, “That’s kinda embarrassing, oh my god.”

“Why’s that embarrassing?” He asks, seemingly oblivious to how much of gooner you must be to be his biggest fan.

“Becaaauuuuse,” you drawl. “Think about the kinda content you make. Nothing says ‘I’m lonely’ like being a… corn star’s number one fan.” You lower your voice for that last part.

Caleb almost seems offended as he counters, “One, I’m not a corn star, I’m a model—”

“You’re a glorified prostitute, Caleb,” you reason. Horror twists his soft features, his jaw slack as he stares at you in disbelief.

“I am not a glorified prostitute,” he asserts, his eyebrows drawing together as his lips do.

You raise your hands by your sides, barely concealing your grin as you surrender, “Right, my bad.”

Caleb huffs, “I’m a model—”

“Sure, sweetie—”

“You,” he mutters, his gaze narrowing. You burst out into laughter at how he looks like a confused puppy. Clutching your stomach, you let out all of your joy and jitters.

There’s something so… disarming about Caleb. Yes, you’ve been incredibly nervous and tripping over your words since you sat down. But he makes you feel comfortable and safe.

You feel like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge you for it. But judging and teasing are two different things, and you’re certain that he’s going to do much of the latter.

“My-my tummy hu-hurts,” you chortle, doubling over in a dull ache.

Your date sulks, “Serves you right, pipsqueak.”

“Ow!” You sniffle, reaching for a napkin. Instead, you knock over the carefully arranged salt and pepper shakers.

“Sorry,” you mumble. Caleb hands you a serviette, which you thank him for. As you pat your glassy eyes dry, he fixes the shakers and brushes off any stray seasonings that got on the table cloth. Placing your scrunched up napkin on the table, you fan your scorchingly hot face.

You grin, “That was really funny.”

“I can tell,” Caleb quips. Once you’ve calmed down, he continues, “What I was going to say before you interrupted me was that being my fan doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Of course, I don’t know you very well yet, but you’re a sweet girl. I’m sure you’ve got friends and loved ones in your life to keep you company.” Yet. Your heart beat turns erratic for a few moments.

“I guess,” you say more to yourself than him while glancing down at the table. You press your lips together, attempting to slow your heart rate with sheer willpower. Black dress shoes come into your line of sight; the waiter has returned.

Gazing up, they set a plate of wagyu in the table’s centre and refill your barely touched water before fluttering off.

“Looks good,” you offer, grabbing your fork and gesturing to the fragrant beef. It’s coated in a gravy with pistachios on top. Fine dining really is fucking weird. Caleb picks up one of the slices on his fork and moves it toward you.

“Open up,” he coos.

You sigh, “Caleb,” as you do just that. The wagyu tastes buttery and rich, yet there’s also a tang from the sauce and nuts.

“Mhmm,” you hum while chewing. Your date flashes you the most innocent grin, his eyes all round and soft as he watches you eat.

“It’s really nice. You should try some,” you suggest after swallowing. Poking your fork through another slice, you hold it up to Caleb the way he did to you.

Feeling playful, you swerve your fork from left to right, riding imaginary waves as you giggle, “Here comes the aeroplane.”

He exhales, seemingly exhausted, “Can’t believe I have to spend the whole night with you.”

“Hey!” You exclaim, retracting your fork. He grabs your hand and brings the utensil to mouth. A smirk splays on his lips as he captures your eyes, watching you watch him bite the wagyu off.

Sitting back, he nods in approval, “Really is good.” Your mind is malfunctioning, words scattered across your brain as you try to form some semblance of a reply.

You decide on, “Don’t chew with your mouth open.”

“Caleb!” You squeal as he opens his mouth and shows you how he masticates meat.

He grins, “What?”

“Are you always this weird with your clients?” You ask sassily while stabbing another tender slice of beef with your fork. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps his first piece down.

“Nah. Just with you, pips,” he shrugs. Butterflies swirl in your tummy, adding to the copious amounts of sweating you’re 110% sure you’re involuntarily doing right now. He’s probably just saying that. But with how he takes your hand and makes you feed him once more, you really hope he means it.

Soon enough, you two have eaten your way through entrée and whatever the fuck your main was (some lime, duck, raddichio concoction that tasted pretty good), leaving only dessert left. You’re glad the portion sizes are tiny, because you don’t wanna bloat with your plans for tonight. But even if you do, you’re positive the physical activity will help with that.

The server leaves you two with a scrumptious apple and macadamia tart, complemented by honeycomb ice cream and custard. Caleb breaks into the tart first.

“Do you want ice cream, custard, or both?” He asks, gathering a small slice on his fork.

You murmur, “Both please.” He hums in acknowledgement, focusing intently as he slathers ice cream and then thick custard onto your slice. You lean over and your date eases the tart past your lips.

Hovering your fingers over your mouth, you say between bites, “Wow, this is seriously yummy.”

“Oh yeah? What makes it so yummy?” Caleb muses, already cutting himself a fat slice and heaping on the cold toppings.

You reply thoughtfully, “The apple is a little sour, and it pairs well with the sweetness of the ice cream and custard. And the macadamia gives it this expensive taste, you know?”

“This taste is expensive, honey,” Caleb remarks before shoving his slice in his mouth.

“How come you get a bigger slice? No! Don’t answer that,” you panic, seeing how he smirked at you with his cheeks full like a chipmunk. You can’t help but smile yourself, far too ecstatic for your well-being right now.

Gripping the edge of the plate, you slide it over to you and dig into the tart. By the time you’re both finished, nothing of it remains. The server promptly brings the cheque, and Caleb snatches it up before you can get a glimpse of the exorbitant price.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he tuts, waving his finger from side to side.

“Caleb,” you groan.

“I’ve got it, pips,” he says resolutely, pulling out his wallet and slotting his card into the black folder before handing it back to the waiter.

As they walk away, you sigh, “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’s included with the service,” your date reassures you.

“What else is included with the service?” You ask flirtatiously. It slips out before you can stop it. Your eyes widen, and you stare at Caleb like it’s his fault you said something so raunchy.

He smirks, “Pipsqueeaaak.”

“Shut up!” You scold him just in time for the waiter’s return.

“All good, Sir. You two enjoy the rest of your evening,” they say in that customer service-polite kinda tone. Caleb takes his card while you nod and thank the waiter before they disappear amongst the tables.

Pivoting to face Caleb, you exhale, “Alright. Shall we get going?”

“Sounds good to me,” he chirps, already standing sliding out of the booth. Dear Lord—Was he always this tall?! And buff?! You clamber out of the booth and stumble on your heels, right into his solid chest.

“Sorry,” you inevitably apologise, grateful for his arm around your waist helping to steady you. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, like you were made to complete one another. Lucky coincidence, you suppose. Tipping your head back, you laugh nervously as he gazes at you with concern in his eyes.

Your date confirms, “You okay, pips?”

“Mhmm, I’m fine,” you nod, separating from him and beginning to walk forward. Caleb keeps his arm around your waist as you two make it out of the restaurant.

Slipping past those glass doors, you squeal as your date bends down and picks you up bridal style.

“So, which one’s your car?” He asks, glancing around the fairly full parking lot.

You squeak, “Caleb! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby. Now, answer my question: which one is your car?” You huff while adjusting your grasp on his neck, resigned to your fate.

“In the second row,” you inform him. With a little more guidance, Caleb plops you down in the driver’s seat. Crouching, he grabs your ankle and removes your shoe.

“What’re you doing?” You whine. Your date merely beams up at you, looking like the happiest man in the world as he takes off your other heel.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He teases, holding your heels on his fingers and straightening up.

You pout, “Being annoying.”

He quips, “Not my fault you can’t walk in these.”

“Caleb!—” He slams the car door shut, and you grumble, waiting for him to walk around. Clicking in your seatbelt, the passenger door opens and Caleb sets your shoes down on the floor.

After grabbing your clutch from you and putting it on top of your heels, he declares, “From now on, you’re banned from wearing heels.”

“What?” You exclaim, shifting to look at him. His ridiculously long legs are bunched up before he slides the seat back, and his head nearly touches the roof. It’s like someone squished an attractive car sales blowup man in your vehicle. You notice the hint of a smile on his face.

He explains, “I don’t wanna see you fall over and break your precious ankles, honey.”

You roll your eyes and retort, “You sound like my dad.” Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life.

“Ouch,” Caleb says, placing extra emphasis on the ‘ch’. The ghost of grin twitches on your lips as you pull out of the parking lot and start heading home; the traffic is much smoother now.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

Ever the gentleman, Caleb carries you into your apartment building and holds you tight in the lift. He sets you down on his black dress shoes, not letting your soles touch the hallway’s brown carpet as you unlock the front door.

Pushing it open, you squeal as he loops his beefy arms around your mid-section and walks you inside. Your date releases you by the couch and placing a hand on his hip, sunset eyes roaming your cosy apartment.

You’ve spent the past few days tidying it up in anticipation for tonight. You could have booked a hotel room, but 1) that would have been even more money and 2) you’d like to have your first time somewhere comfortable, and with someone who makes you feel comfortable.

“D’you want some tea or?” You ask, fidgeting with your hands as Caleb comes to stare down at you.

He grins, “That’d be great, pips.” Nodding, you head over to the kitchen and start preparing the tea.

“Do you want peppermint, camomile, lemon balm, or ginger and turmeric tea?” You shout over the screeching kettle from where you’re standing at the kitchen bench.

Caleb calls back, “Any.” Sighing, you pick lemon balm for the both of you. It helps with reducing anxiety and boosts digestion, exactly what you need right now.

You walk slowly into the living room with two steaming mugs in hand. Your date abandons the fashion magazine you had sitting on the coffee table to take the tea from you. Thanking him, you plop down on the couch and take your mug from his large hands.

After you two get comfy, it’s quiet for a little. You don’t know where to go from here. Do you suggest a movie? Get changed? Chat for a while until things head in that direction?

Caleb breaks the silence with, “Let’s set some boundaries, how does that sound, honey?” You hum in agreement, perking up at the topic.

He wears an easy grin as he says, “It’ll be your first time, right?” You nod.

“And you’ve been practising like I told you to?” Again, you nod, feeling a very familiar heat rising up to your cheeks.

He continues, “I assume you don’t want to do anything too crazy, is that right?”

“Mhmm,” you hum.

“Then I’m happy to do whatever you want tonight.” Your date sets his half-drunk mug down on the low table and slings one arm over the back of the lounge. His muscles bulge out of his white button-up, and your gaze lingers on them a little too long for modesty. Your heart rate picks back up.

He prompts you, “So, what do you want to do, pipsqueak? What are you okay with me doing to you?” You gnaw on the side of your lip, your hands trembling slightly around your tea.

“Um,” you start. You rehearsed this how many times?!

You try again, “Yeah, so like… uh—”

“How about I start you off?” Caleb suggests while reaching over and plucking your mug from you by the rim. It clunks on the coffee table before he takes your shaking hands and squeezes them firmly.

His eyes search yours momentarily, decoding the swirling emotions there for a sign to continue. You nod slightly, your voice rendered useless.

Caleb goes on, “We can make out and see where things go from there, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper. Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly, it almost drowns out your date’s sweet voice.

“Or do you wanna cuddle first?” He asks, rubbing his thumb over the backs of your hands soothingly.

You lean in closer, your voice small as you ramble, “Honestly, I just feel fucking nervous right now. And like I’m really sweaty, and I’ve like never talked to anyone about this kinda thing before. I just wanna keep it… like, romantic? If that makes sense?”

He nods, “Makes perfect sense, pips.”

Your shoulders slump as you sigh in relief, “Okay good.” His smirk has you melting into a puddle of goop. You just wanna squish his cheeks. But your bravery isn’t there yet.

Caleb shifts his grasp on you, now holding both of your hands with one of his as the other comes up and tucks a stray strand behind your ear. His fingertips brush the shell of your ear and rest against your ear lobe before his hand returns to gripping yours.

“Caleb,” you say abruptly. He nods, urging you to continue.

“Is it okay if I go shower before we… do other stuff?” You ask anxiously.

He lets go of your hands while encouraging you with, “’Course, go for it, pips.”

Getting off the couch, you say excitedly, “Okay cool.” You dash off to your bedroom, thinking about much water you’ll be wasting as this’ll be your second shower of the day when you halt.

Whirling around, you dart back to the living room. Your frantic entrance draws Caleb’s eyes. He stares at you like he’s assessing a threat, but upon realising it’s you, his frame visibly relaxes.

“What is it, honey?” He asks, confused.

You blurt out, “Doyouwannacomeshowerwithme?” He gazes at you with a faint knot his brow.

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale, “Do you wanna join me? So like, we can bond. Or like not. It’s totally cool if you don’t want to, yeah like—” You don’t get to finish before Caleb’s rising from the couch and pulling you into his side.

“Well, what’re we waiting for, pipsqueak? Let’s get showering,” he says enthusiastically. Caleb drags you along the hallway, and you steer him into your bedroom. Once you’re inside, he releases you. Fluttering over to your dresser, you pull out a pair of underwear and a lacy bralette.

You don’t notice your date behind you until he muses, “I don’t think you’ll be needing those.” You flinch, somehow shocked about the presence of man you literally invited into your most sacred space, being in your most sacred space.

You sputter, “Are you sure like—”

“Oh, I’m sure, honey,” he grins cheekily. You swear your super hot face just got even redder and hotter from that seductive look he’s giving you.

You stutter, “O-okay,” as you put your panties and bra back in your drawer.

Whilst you do so, Caleb palms your shoulders. His touch sends shivers dancing along your spine and down your arms.

His chest touches your back lightly, as does he lips as he asks lowly, “Why don’t you show me where the bathroom is and I’ll get the water running?” It requires all of your strength not to collapse then and there from his raspy voice.

The things his voice does to you… Liquid heat pools in the pit of your tummy, arousal leaking from your cunt as you point to the only other door leading out of your bedroom. Your finger shakes a little; a testament to your nerves.

Caleb squeezes your shoulders before heading into the bathroom, fully dressed. Were you also supposed to join him, fully dressed? That can’t be right, right? Or—argh!

You scamper off to the linen cupboard and grab a few towels: one for Caleb, one for Caleb fucking you, one for Caleb cleaning you up, and one just in case Caleb ruins either of the previous three towels.

Standing outside the bathroom door, you bite your lip in nervousness. Preparing all week felt pretty real, dinner felt pretty real, but it dawns upon you just how real all of this was. As soon as you cross the threshold, the man you’ve gotten off to more times than you can remember is going to see and come to know you in the most intimate of ways.

The door swings open and Caleb gazes down at you cockily.

“You’re not backing out on me, are you, pips?” He smirks. You shake your head and hold out his towel.

“For you,” you mumble. He chuckles and grabs it from you, ushering you inside. Immediately, you notice that the water isn’t running. What has he been doing all of this time?

As if hearing your thoughts, Caleb answers, “You were taking a while so I thought I’d save you some water.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, slowly pivoting to face him. He’s taken his blazer off and undone a couple of his shirt’s buttons.

Stepping closer, he asks playfully, “Soooo, d’you wanna help me get undressed? Or should I help you first?” You glance down at your feet and notice that his are bare, too. Caleb’s fingers trail down your arm, his body dusting yours. You inhale deeply and then exhale.

Gathering up your confidence, you look up and place your hands on his chest. Beneath your palm, you can feel his heart beat. It’s stable, like he’s done this a dozen times.

Oh wait! He has!

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, feeling the weight of this moment as his hands rest on your hips. Breaking eye contact, you start unbuttoning his shirt. As each one pops out, you get a glimpse of the body you’ve seen so many times on your screen. But it’s not the same. In person, he’s so warm and huge. His chest is so toned, and those pecs boobs are bigger than yours.

Your fingertips graze his smooth skin as you pull his dress shirt out of his trousers and undo the last few buttons. He grabs one of your hands and places it on his abs.

You hum softly, fingers feeling the ridges of his hard muscles. Giving his tummy an experimental poke, you find that he’s still squishy. Just a solid kind of squishy.

He yelps, “Ah, pips, what’re you doin’?” You giggle, the melodic sound slipping past your lips with little resistance.

“Sorrrryyy,” you smile, glancing up at his beautiful face.

You compliment him, “You’re way hotter in person, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” he responds, kneading your love handles through your short dress.

“Do I live up to your expectations?” Caleb asks, his tone suddenly sincere. You nod energetically.

Feeling bold, you tug at his shirt, and he helps you pull it off his broad shoulders. You start folding it up, but he yanks the shirt out of your hands and tosses it on the floor with a muttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

You rest your hands on his low waistband, fingers curling beneath the edge as you wait. For what, you’re not entirely sure. But it doesn’t feel right to keep going yet. Your date draws you in, your hips flush against his thighs.

“You alright?” He murmurs, leaning down so his lips brush your forehead. You hum gently in agreement as he kisses along your hairline.

You warn him, “Careful or you’ll be eating my setting powder.” His laugh rumbles in his chest, nice n’ close to you so you can feel the vibrations.

“Really, honey?” He teases, pecking your cheekbone affectionately.

“What am I eating now? Your highlight?”

You roll your eyes and sass back, “That’s my blush, actually.”

“Oh, right. My bad,” he says sarcastically, kissing your gelled brows and made-up eyelids.

“Good try, though,” you say quietly. Caleb hums low as his lips wander dangerously closer to yours. His nose tip nuzzles against yours, and you sigh as your head falls back. Your eyes meet, his seeking permission while yours are half-lidded in anticipation.

He asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhmm, yes,” you reply, your hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. You pull him down with surprising courage, moaning as his plump lips press against yours.

Heaven is not a place in the sky, built upon fluffy white clouds and filled with beings of light. It’s a state of existence only acquired after life’s tribulations. But you swear you can taste it’s sweetness on your tongue, a warmth swelling within as your fingers thread through Caleb’s silky locks.

His large hands paw at your hips, pulling you snug against his body. Heat seeps through the fabric of your dress into your bones, and not necessarily the temperature-related kind.

Your yelp is muffled by your date’s wet tongue sliding across your lower lip. You must be hallucinating, because there’s no way in hell the man you’re kissing right now is getting turned on by you. It’s just impossible. You’re the observer of his lust, not the active participant. But isn’t that what you signed up for? What this entire night has been leading you toward?

Still, your knees buckle and your body falls further into Caleb’s as your tongues intertwine. That sweetness is real, a hint of apple and custard poking at your memories. He keeps you sturdy as you lose yourself in him, and his fists bunch up your dress to your waist.

Separating from you, his lips glisten with spit.

Caleb pants, “Let me help you out of this.” You barely nod before he’s hiking your dress up and over your head. He casts it on the floor, murmuring a half-assed apology as he closes the gap between you two once more. His muscular arm circles your waist, and he trails sloppy kisses down the side of your neck.

Your date mumbles into your perfumed skin, “Can I leave marks?”

“Mhmm,” you hum softly while squeezing his shoulders. His tongue is hot and wet as it licks up the column of your neck.

He instructs you to, “Say yes.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. Those long fingers tangle in your roots and tug gently. You moan quietly, the sound just slipping out as your head tips back, Caleb’s lips now just beneath your jaw.

“This okay, too?” He rasps in your ear. You wish the slick dripping from your core could reply for you, but alas, it can’t.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. His grip on your hair tightens as he sucks a bruising hickey on the side of your neck.

Your back arches, the moan spewing from your lips enough to have Caleb on his knees. But he remains strong yet desperate, his growing erection rocking into your lower tummy.

The self-proclaimed ‘model’ leaves hickeys and bites across your neck like it’s a blank canvas, while his expert hands latch onto your bra and unhook it at the back.

“Caleb,” you pant, pushing slightly at his heaving chest. He steps back immediately, your bra dangling from your shoulders.

His eyes are wide as he asks panically, “Everything okay? Did I go too far?” You shake your head while licking your lips.

You try to explain, “No, I just… um.” Your nerves return, causing you to gaze down. Inevitably, you notice what Caleb’s black pants fight to conceal: his hard on.

“Uhhh.” You gulp and glance back up, but that makes it worse. He’s unravelling you with his eyes like you ate the skin off Maccas chicken nuggies as a kid😔.

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” Caleb asks, his eyes dropping slightly to signal to what’s got extra pink blooming across your cheeks.

“NO! No, I mean, like, it definitely leaves an impression. No, wait! I mean—” His hearty laugh cuts you off, shoulders shaking as he inches closer and takes your hands.

With his signature grin on his face, he says, “Just take a deep breath, yeah? And tell me what’s on your mind.” You nod and inhale as he squeezes your hands.

You exhale, “I just like can’t believe this is happening, you know? Like it’s all so sudden. I never thought you could want me like this.” Caleb pushes you against him, his hands splaying on your bare back while his chin rests atop your head.

Your cheek rests on his heart as he admits, “It’s hard not to, pipsqueak.” You hum in acknowledgement, your hands settling on his waistband again.

His breath hitches slightly as he chuckles, “I was gonna say we can take it slower, but I’m guessing you don’t mind.” You lean back in his grasp and tilt your head to look up at him. His cheeks are tinted red, as are the tops of his ears.

You smirk, “I wanna take it slow, yeah. Wanna take my make-up off, too, if that’s okay?”

Allow me to clarify, you DON’T want Caleb to see you bare-faced, but you equally DON’T want to shower in a full beat or have sex in one.

“Mhmm, take it off now, honey. I’ll actually get the water going this time,” he says playfully. The model tugs your hands off of his pants and starts unbuckling them himself. You turn away, pushing your flimsy bra straps up your arms as you reach the sink top.

After taking off your makeup, Caleb’s already in the shower, presumably setting it to cold asf lukewarm. You sigh as you yank off your bra and step out of your panties, tossing them into the clothing heap on the floor.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you analyse your subdued complexion. Some times it’s hard to feel beautiful in your own skin, especially when an absolute hottie is waiting for you a metre away. But it’s the knowledge that said hottie’s dick is hard from YOU that has you shuffling over to the shower door and opening it.

Steam rushes out as you lock eyes with Caleb momentarily. Momentarily because he shamelessly checks you out, gnawing on his lip all seductively as he does so. Your thighs clench and you hope he doesn’t notice (bad luck, he does).

Your gaze runs down his body as the water does, seeking purchase in the most intimate crevices of such a man. You let your eyes dip and oh shit—You have to avert them immediately.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him like this before. You have. You’ve seen everything he’s ever filmed, but it’s different, looking at him while he looks at you.

Closing the shower door behind you, Caleb’s on you in an instant. He tugs you into his body, groaning as your soft curves collide with his hardness.

Your gasp is caught between his teeth as he pulls you into another breathtaking kiss. He whimpers into your mouth, his tongue slipping between your lips without invitation. Those strong hands push and pull at your delicate flesh, making your back arch and pussy throb.

Your hands cup his nape, his dark strands already damp from the runing water behind him. And you cling to him like your life depends on it, tilting your head and following his pace. He overpowers you, his hunger almost as intense as his hard on.

It’s dawning upon you how severely fucked you’re gonna get be tonight. You hate to be like “It’s so big” but dear Lord… You’re questioning how that is gonna fit in you as Caleb draws you impossibly closer. It’s like he’s trying to tear off your skin and climb into the cavities of your heart. Even worse? You’d let him if he asked.

“Fuck,” Caleb murmurs, drunk on your taste and how goddamn perfect you feel against him. The way you mould to his body; this must have been divined. His hands glide over your moist skin and squeeze your ass. You yelp, his mouth claiming yours again.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting for air. Your laboured breaths intermingle, foreheads connected as you swallow his saliva. The rushing water patters against the tiles, droplets bouncing onto your bodies.

You exhale, “Are you gonna help me get cleaned up or?”

He chuckles huskily, “’Course, baby. C’mere.” Caleb holds you by the hips and shuffles back, positioning you beneath the shower-head. You sigh and close your eyes, the streaming, warm water carrying away your worries and nerves ephemerally. His heat disappears for a second, the popping of a cap echoing throughout the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, your eyes still closed. Caleb’s body brushes against yours once again, and you assume his hands are rubbing together from the slimy, lathering sounds emanating in front of you.

You crack an eyelid open but shut it quickly as he order you to, “Keep your eyes closed.” A mischievous smirk spreads across your lips.

“Whhhhyyyyy?” His hands grasp your shoulders, the familiar sensation of body wash covering them. He starts rubbing the gel into your shoulders and down your arms.

He grins, “I’m cleaning you up, just like you wanted, pips.” You imagine Caleb behind your eyelids, puppy ears atop his head and tail wagging like he’s waiting for you to scratch his chin and tell him he’s a good boy. Your giggle fades into a deep breath out as his skilful hands work the body wash up your arms and on your chest.

“Can I touch here?” His fingertips ghost the fat of your breast, and his voice is gentle, like he could wait years for your answer. You nod, but think better of it at the last second.

You voice your consent with a simple, “Yes.” Squeezing some more wash onto his hands, you date slathers it onto your breasts. You nibble at your lower lip, enjoying the sensation of him squishing your tits in his strong hands. Those slender fingers fleet across your nipples, testing the waters. You can feel his intense eyes on you, reading every micro expression dancing across your features.

Grabbing his wrists, you shift his hands back to cover your breasts, your eyes finally opening. He stares at you, his violets slightly wide and brows raised.

With a nod, you urge him on, “You can do more if you want.” He shakes his head, averting his gaze to the side for a few seconds as he contemplates.

Glancing back at you, Caleb says earnestly, “This is your night. You’re in charge, so tell me what you want me to do, Miss L/n.” Hearing your last name tumble from his mouth does something utterly unholy to you and your pussy. You press your legs together, fresh slick oozing out against your will. Your grip on his wrists tighten as you watch each other, fascinated and patient.

“Why don’t we keep going?” You suggest, sliding his glistening hands down to your tummy. As much as you’d like for him to play with your nipples and make you ten times wetter, you’re in the shower to prepare for that.

“Ah—Caleb!” You whine as he pokes your soft midsection, just like how you poked his comparably harder one earlier. He chuckles and palms your waist, already head over heels for how doughy you are.

He hums low, “Mhmm. So fuckin’ beautiful, baby. You sure you don’t have a boyfriend?” It’s your turn to laugh, your frame shaking as you chortle at the thought—

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say confidently. “But thank you. I appreciate it,” you add. Caleb rubs body wash in circles over your tummy before spinning you around leisurely by the hips.

From behind you, he pries, “Any special reason?” He begins massaging your shoulders, his hands pressing firmly into the calcifications strewn throughout your muscles.

His plump lips touch your ear as he continues, “You’re smart, funny, sweet, sexy. There has to be some suitors, no?” His palm digs into a particularly painful knot. You yelp and he immediately eases off.

“Sorry, pipsqueak. Didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“No, it’s fine! It’s fine! It feels kinda nice actually. I’m really tight,” you assure him. His hot breath fans your neck as he laughs, his hands returning to your shoulders.

He murmurs, “If you insist.” All is quiet between you two as you enjoy his tender massage, even though you have to grit your teeth every ten seconds from his thumbs poking at your knots. His question hangs in the air, perhaps pinned up like the stars as you think it over.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Just haven’t found anyone worthy yet, I guess.” Caleb hums as his fingers map out your back muscles.

“Like, for some reason, most men find respecting women really hard. Like, I’m not asking for much, you know? Just a decent guy who takes care of himself and has some life goals,” you explain.

You date replies, “Mhmm, pop off, girlie.” Immediately you whip around and ‘playfully’ slap his chest.

It reverberates off the shower walls and Caleb covers his pecs and yelps, “The fuck was that for?!”

“Do not give me the ‘pop off, girlie’ when we’re in the shower, Caleb! At least save it for when I’m painting your nails or something,” you scold him. Your arms fold beneath your cheat, accentuating your breasts. His eyes dip momentarily but you catch it anyway.

Slap!

“Ow! Ow! I’m sorry, alright! Fuckin’ hell, pipsqueak,” he exclaims. Your cheeks grow hotter as you realise what the fuck you just did.

“Sorry! sorry,” you murmur, stepping closer and rubbing his reddening chest. In the model’s eyes, the cutest pout splays on your lips as you sooth the spots he’s not really hurting in. Buuuuuuuut, you don’t need to know that just yet.

“As you should be, pips. I was just trying to support you and look what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice laced with fake raw emotion.

You reply earnestly, “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You’ve been so good to me and all I’ve done is hurt you.”

“Huh? Wait, pips—”

“I don’t deserve you, Caleb—”

“Hold on a damn minute, pipsqueak. I didn’t say that—”

“But it’s true! You’re so… so kind and patient with me. And—” Your self-deprecation is cut short my your date cupping your cheeks and shutting you up with his lips.

Your head tilts back, deepening the kiss while his slick hands (from the body wash) slide down your back and rub in the gel. They slip to your ass and squish it, making you gasp into Caleb’s mouth. He smirks against your lips, your tongues lapping at each other’s taste buds and cheeks again.

Breaking apart, he peppers kisses at the corners of your mouth and on your eyebrows and finally, your forehead.

Grabbing two handfuls of your ass, Caleb murmurs into your damp skin, “It didn’t even hurt, honey. So don’t give me that ‘I don’t deserve you’ bullshit, yeah?” You hum softly while chewing on your bottom lip.

Caleb continues on his quest to clean you up. You swear he goes through half of your body wash as he lathers you up. And my oh my is it awkward when he gets down on his knees to coat your legs in the smooth gel. Your pussy is right in his face, but he seems unfazed. Seems is the key word here.

You squeak, “Sorryyyyy,” as his hands work up your inner thigh.

He gazes up at you and grins, “For what? There’s no place I’d rather be, baby. And didn’t I tell you not to apologise, angel?”

“Mhmm, maybe,” you sigh, your fingers running through his soaked locks.

“Then don’t make me tell you again,” he says low.

You nod, “Mhmm, I won’t,” while keeping your eyes on his.

“Good,” he breathes out, leaning forward and chastely kissing a patch of body wash-free skin on your thigh. His fingers come so close to your cunt, you swear he can feel the arousal that’s probably dripped down them. Maybe that’s the point.

A weight comes off your shoulders as Caleb stands back up and you guides you under the streaming water. His hands run all over your body to clear off the body wash, filling you with a tender warmth.

The kind you’d always hoped you’d feel when in love. But that’s crazy talk! You literally just met! Well, technically, you’ve known him for a few years. But that’s besides the point.

This isn’t love. This is paid intimacy. Don’t forget that, you tell yourself.

Caleb’s hands come to rest on your hips as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “So, are you gonna help me clean up, too?” Your eyes snap open, your hands grasping the back of his neck to keep him close so he can’t see how you’re freaking out. Wash him off?! Oh, how you’ve dreamed of this moment. I mean! Ew, boys, cooties, gross. Wash a man? Ugh if I have to, you ‘suppose’.

“’Course,” you say sweetly, releasing him and grabbing your body wash. And just as you suspected—

“Caleb, what the fuck? You literally used all of it!” You exclaim.

He smirks all handsome (like he knows it, too), “Shall I reimburse you, Miss L/n?” For fuck’s sake, he just cleaned down there. What’s he gonna think when you get out of the shower with slick sliding down your thighs?

“Just… shut up,” you say, shaking your head slightly and the bottle violently. It makes those squelching sounds as you flip the cap and attempt to squeeze out what remains onto your palms. It would seem that this mammoth of a man left just enough for himself. You rub your hands together before starting with his arms.

For you, it’s a nice change to give rather than receive. You enjoy receiving, and Caleb is damn good at giving. But it feels fulfilling to soothe your body wash into his skin, to show him the affection he’s an expert at showing others.

You’ve seen it in his videos, how when he does collabs, he always prioritises his co-stars needs. On countless occasions, you’ve dreamed of that being you. Of basking in his loving lustful touch. And now that it is you, it feels incredible beyond belief. But you hunger for more. You’re greedy to return the favour.

“Okay, I have a question for you,” you grin, glancing up at your date.

He nods, “Ask away.”

You hold his gaze as you ask, “When you sent me your test results, you had a sperm count of zero. Why?”

“Oh, that,” he chuckles breathily. Your palms glide across his chest, fingers brushing his sensitive nipples (you swear, all of his fans know this, okay?).

He shudders slightly, “Uh, well, in my line of work, it just seemed to be the most convenient.”

“A vasectomy,” you clarify.

Caleb nods and explains, “It’s not 100% effective in preventing pregnancy, but it’s damn close enough.” Your hands move across his ribs and abs before you pump out some more body wash onto your palms.

You return to lathering up his muscles while asking curiously, “Why do you do bookings? Like, your OF is pretty popular, and most models don’t. With your, uh, quality of content, you probably don’t need to be doing this kinda thing.”

He grins, “If I wasn’t taking bookings, then I wouldn’t have met you, honey.” Your heart flutters as your eyes lock on his. And all you find there is sincerity. Your hands on his low abs still.

“Oh, yeah?” You mumble, averting your gaze to somewhere more reasonable, like his painful looking erection.

Up until this point, you had been avoiding his thick cock like the plague. But you’ve gotta face it (and feel it) at some point tonight, so it might as well be now. His tip is leaking pre-cum, and you almost feel bad with how red his dick looks.

Feeling bold, you ask, “Should I wash your back first, or get on my knees already?” It requires every last piece of your strength to not stutter. And it requires every last piece of Caleb’s strength to not cum right then and there. Your presence does something to him. It’s otherworldly, how comfortable he feels with you, and how fucking hard you make him.

The model is putty in your hands, waiting to be moulded to whatever shape you see fit. Or was it the other way round? Sources suggest it’s a mutual yearning (stargirlygirl, 2025).

“Whatever you like, baby—”

“I’m asking what you would like,” you interject. More pre-cum seeps out, and Caleb would be normally be embarrassed but he just can’t seem to find a fuck to give.

Clearing his throat, he requests, “On your knees, please.” You hum in agreement and do just that, coming eye-to-cock—Coming eye-to-eye with his cock! My bad.

Your fingertips trace the curves of his quads under the guise of soothing body wash into his wet skin. You gaze at his hard-on, a little drool running down the side of your mouth as you take a good look. Doing so only serves to reaffirm your earlier sentiment: that you are completely fucked (or you will be anyway😏).

“Was it always this big?” You ask suddenly, glimpsing up at Caleb’s rosy cheeks and dilated eyes.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters as your fingers draw nearer to his twitching cock. You rinse off your hands under the water before turning back to him.

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest like a baby xenomorph (that one’s for you, @tragicvictoriantears) as you point and ask, “Can I touch?”

He groans, “Not here.” Caleb bends down and hauls you up by the underarms like you’re a misbehaving cat. You’ve never seen someone wash off so fast before he’s dragging you out of the shower, drying you off on 4x speed, and throwing you over his broad shoulder.

Next thing you know, your back hits the springy mattress and you bounce a little. Caleb’s already climbing on top of you, bare and wet. His teeth attack every inch of your skin, ravenous, while his lips soothe your reddening. Your back arches as he takes your nipple into his swelteringly hot mouth.

His fingers trail across your body, his touch hot like a branding iron, marking every part of you as his. Then, they skim up and pinch your breasts, eliciting a yelp from you. You’ve never felt anything like this before.

Pleasure jolts through you as he sucks on your stiff peak, tongue rolling around and over it. Pulling off, his saliva glints in the overhead light, as do his eyes with an insatiability.

“Caleb,” you mewl, pressing your tits up to his grinning lips.

He checks in on you with, “This alright, pips?” You nod energetically, desperate to feel his mouth on you once more.

“You okay if I keep going? Or do you want something different?” He pants, his slender fingers tracing the skin beneath your breasts.

“No, I-I want you to keep going. Feels good,” you reassure him. Caleb moans quietly as his head dips and his tongue roves over your areola again. Your hips buck, in dire need of some friction. Your bare cunt catches on his abs, tearing a raspy moan from you.

“Fuck sake,” your date groans in the space between your tits. His hands travel down to your hips and push them into the bed, drawing out a broken whine from you.

You cry out, “Please! Please. ‘M sorry. Just really sensitive, you know?”

“I know,” he rasps out while gazing up at you. Dear God, you hope you don’t have double chins right now or that would be embarrassing. Lowering your head to your pillow, you stare at the ceiling while trying to wiggle out of Caleb’s firm grip. It’s almost like he’s controlling gravity with how he’s got you pinned.

“Ah! Caleb!” You gasp as he nibbles gently on your tit. Just enough pain to grab your attention, and just enough pleasure to have you craving for him to do it again. You can feel his smirk against your flesh.

“So-rry,” he mumbles insincerely. Your heart accelerates as you watch him shift down your body, his lips worshipping every inch of your skin. Like you’re a swig from the holy grail with how he drinks you in.

Those puppy eyes latch onto yours as his nose brushes the crevices of your inner thigh. You’re positive the tip (of his nose, you freaks; I am freaks) must be wet with how your pussy has been dripping for him.

Shame burns bright red and feels like leaving your hand on a hot plate as he spreads your legs wider. Your arousal glistens and clit twitches under his interrogative gaze. You attempt to close your legs but to no avail.

“Caleb—”

“Stop fighting me, pretty girl,” he moans, his breath fanning over your pussy. Your head falls back as he slides his fingertips up your soaked slit, the sweetest moans escaping from your lips.

The sensation is familiar, yet foreign. Something you must have done a million times when masturbating to his videos. But now that the man himself is between your thighs, simply running his fingers through your folds, you can barely breathe from the pleasure.

And when the pads of his fingers start circling your clit, you’re certain you’ve ascended.

“Fuck!” You moan, high enough to thread your fingers through the clouds and clutch onto them to stabilise yourself. Or maybe you’re clinging to Caleb’s dark roots. You can’t tell.

Something transient; a liminal space. The beginning of your descent into the depths for your sins. But how can something to heavenly lead you to the fiery chambers of Hell?

You almost scream as the model’s tongue laps at your cunt. Your juices spill over his lips in his pursuit of quenching his thirst. But such a trial is doomed for failure.

He’s like a beast, slurping up your slick like it’s his sustenance. It’s messy, and obscenely loud. You’re neighbours are probably going to file a noise complaint, but you couldn’t care less.

Caleb’s fingers and tongue guide you to the edges of the universe and make you count the stars. Galaxy glitter sticks to your cheeks as you float amongst the light. It can’t get better than this, can it?

Clitoral stimulation IS the orgasm game-changer, so probably not. But you remain hopeful as you rock your hips, seeking every last long swipe of his tongue. He leans back, plump lips brushing your soaked ones as he stares at you drunkenly.

“You always this loud, pips? Or is it because I’m here?” Caleb teases.

“Because [of] you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from your endless moans and pleas.

“Oh, yeah?” He grins cockily, licking his lips and groaning at your taste.

He proposes, “Tell me what you want, pipsqueak. More, or something else?”

Your voice is strained as you reply, “Choose f’me.” He chuckles, his thumbs rolling over your inner thighs tenderly. For a moment, you two stay like that, panting and pondering what will happen next. You suck in a sharp breath as Caleb’s tongue glides up your sloppy folds again.

This time, he eats you out with some consideration for your bedsheets and poor neighbours. But he still has you trembling beneath his hot mouth and expert fingers. Your thighs clench around his head, unintentionally but fuck, it makes him rut into the bed like a horny teenage boy who saw a woman’s ankles for the first time.

Caleb draws you closer to your climax, flicking his tongue just right and plunging his fingers into your gummy walls the way you need him to. It doesn’t take much more before you’re slipping into ecstasy-induced oblivion.

Your body shakes and thighs clamp tight, but the model welcomes it with a needy suck of your clit. You pull at his locks, attempting to push his head away as you make a mess all over his mouth and hand.

Your arousal drips down his wrist once he finally eases his fingers out of you. His tongue, though, is unrelenting.

It stings as he circles your clit until you’re crying out, “Caleb! Caleb, I can’t! I can’t, baby, please!” His laugh rumbles in his chest as he sits back and wipes his damp chin and lips with his veiny forearm. Moving to hover over you, he notes your bitten lips and the daze in your eyes.

“Good?” He asks, his voice thick with admiration for his sweet girl—client. Caleb meant client. You nod, panting and exhausted. But you haven’t even done anything yet! To him, you mean. You haven’t sucked his fat cock, or even rode it yet and you could already doze off.

“Can-can we take a break?” You exhale. The model nods and sinks on top of you.

“Caleb!” You groan, shoving him by the shoulders. But he just won’t budge.

He plants loving kisses all over your face and praises you, “You did so good, pipsqueak. Yeah? I’m really proud of you.”

“Caleb,” you murmur. He draws you into a reassuring kiss; your tang is on his lips. The slow pace he moves at blesses you with an inkling of strength.

“Thanks,” you mumble into his mouth.

Separating, he grins, “Don’t thank me yet, pips. We’re only getting started.”

“But—”

“You know better than to give me that, mhmm?” He interrupts you.

Those violets stare at you intensely, waiting for your little nod before he proceeds with, “Now, what shall we do next? Get straight into the heavy stuff? Or do you wanna play for a little longer?”

“I… wanna touch you,” you say, your lazy hand reaching up and cupping his freckled cheek. He gulps, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

He clarifies, “Are you sure, pips? You don’t have to—”

“I want to. I want to make you feel good,” you breathe out, your heart beat steadying. Caleb sighs, his arms squeezing you tightly before he carefully rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him.

He leans in and lightly kisses from your cheekbone to your ear, whispering, “Then go ahead. You can do whatever you want to me.” Shivers run up your spine as his fingers do, and your thighs seize up at his words.

“O-okay,” you say nervously, your flush that never really left returning tenfold. He laughs warmly, his breath battering your skin. Turning your head, you grab his jaw with your hand and squish his cheeks, making his eyes widen.

“What’re you doin’, pipsqueak?” He asks, muffled. You giggle before closing the distance between you and kissing him. Your hand on his jaw softens and slides down to his neck, resting at the base like you’re going to choke him. His breath catches, waiting for you to squeeze. But you change to holding his shoulders, your fingers pressing into his muscles and your elbows propping you up on his chest.

The kiss is deep and intimate. There’s something raw in the way you lick at his cheeks and sample his flavour. Maybe it’s the post-nut haze, but you feel vulnerable.

You feel like your soul is pouring out of your body and only Caleb can bear it. Only he can keep you whole through this life-changing experience. And maybe, he can share a part of himself with you to create something new. Your delusions must have awakened.

You leave kisses on his jaw and down his neck, slithering to his pecs and pinching his nipples.

The OF model yelps, “Hah—guess you know all of my weakness, huh? I’d hardly call that fair.”

“You have the advantage of experience, Mr Xia. I’d call this fair,” you sass back. Oh, Caleb almost busts then and there at hearing his name, so formally, pass through your lips. It sounds so natural. He bites his lower lip and moans as you lick a stripe up his chest.

This is another one of those moments you’ve been waiting for. The chance to suck on Caleb’s pink nipples. And you do, ardently, and staring up at him with doe eyes.

You’re positive that he’s wetting your bedsheets with how dewy his skin still is from the shower. And your date is positive he’s soaking your bedsheets for an entirely different reason. His hips rock, his creamy cock hitting your tummy and making you moan around his sensitive nub.

It slips from your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips and his nipple. You grin wide, ecstatic as you glimpse down at the pre-cum staining your skin.

Fuck, that’s gotta hurt. His cock is so red and messy. You’ve never seen him get like this before. You gaze back up at Caleb to see him shaking his head.

“Take your time. I can wait,” he whimpers.

You muse, “Maybe you can, but I don’t think little solider can.”

“My solider isn’t little,” he bites back. “And don’t call it a solider.”

“Why not?” You ask, failing to conceal your smirk.

He huffs, “It’s kills the mood.”

“I don’t know, Mr Xia. The mood doesn’t seem killed to me, or him,” you tease. Caleb groans, more pre seeping out of his flushed tip.

“Don’t call me that. And don’t call my cock a ‘he’.”

“Don’t like being objectified, pretty boy? Welcome to a woman’s world,” you retort. Grunting, the model tugs you up and snatches the air in your lungs with his lips.

You moan into his mouth as he squeezes your ass, “You don’t like it when I call you Mr Xia?” He sighs into you, large hands squishing your plush flesh before sliding up and gripping your waist.

“Too formal,” he rasps between nipping at your bottom lip and sucking on your tongue. You mewl softly, enjoying how he ravishes you like he’s been starved for days on end.

But that can’t be right, a famished Caleb. You chalk it up to the act. But he must be a damn good actor because you could swear this is real right now. His desperate, sloppy kisses and how tight he holds you, like some entity could pry you from his hands at any moment.

“Caleb—”

“Shush, pips. ‘M not done yet,” he whispers while pulling your hair out of the bun it was in and brushing your locks with his fingers. You cling to his chest, trying to keep yourself afloat in the midst of his hungry kisses. A whimper bleeds between your mouths; you think it’s yours but you can’t tell with the wet patch growing on your hip.

At last, Caleb draws back, his forehead pressing against yours as you both catch your breaths.

“Can I…. please?” You pant. His glinting lips stretch into a grin.

“Can you what, honey? What exactly do you want to do?” He teases. Your hand settles over his heart, and you find it to be beating as fast as yours.

Inhaling deeply, you mumble, “Can I suck your cock?” Mockingly, Caleb turns his head and presses your lips down to his ears by your nape.

“What was that, pipsqueak?” He asks egotistically.

You repeat your question even quieter, “Can I suck your cock?” Your date chuckles as he faces you once more. You stare at one another, your faces both red and burning hot.

“I told you, baby,” he drawls, rubbing his nose against yours fondly.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Caleb murmurs breathily. You whine a little, that lustful look in his eyes setting your entire being alight.

“M’kay,” you nod. And before you know it, you’re positioned between the model’s legs, delicate hands wrapped around his fat cock. Light bounces off your acrylics, and your spit dribbles down his shaft. You smear it with his pre-cum to stroke him better.

“Am I doing okay?” You ask, eyes flicking between his erection and that hopelessly needy expression on his face. Flushed cheeks, lips swollen, and low-lidded eyes.

Caleb groans, “So good, pipsqueak. Doin’ amazing.” You nod, your hair tickling his thigh as you gaze down and focus on jerking him off.

Your hands are all sticky and make the most lewd squelching sounds as you pleasure him. You know he’d never ask for you to go further, but curiosity gets the better of you. It drives you to lean down and dart your tongue across his tip.

Pre-cum lingers on your taste buds, unbearably creamy and hot and salty.

You cringe, “Ew. Why’s it so thick? Isn’t it supposed to be less thick since there’s no sperm?”

“Ah!—No,” Caleb moans. “Sperm doesn’t a-affect the consistency.” Staring up at him, you have another hesitant lick of his cock. This time, your tongue glides up the underside of his head, right on the bulging vein.

“Fuck! Don’t-you don’t need to do that,” he whimpers.

You shake your head and insist, “I want to. Promise.” Enclosing your mouth around the tip of his cock, Caleb moans loudly, completely unashamed of how good your lips and tongue feel around him.

You suck, the back of your mind screaming at you to start bobbing your head and twisting your hands. You don’t go to far down. If you did, you’re certain you’d choke on him instantly. And that’s something you’d like to avoid.

You’ve gone over this far too many times in the past week. That is, how to give a good blowjob. But all of your study flees from your mind as you’re presented with the final exam.

Pulling off, you remark, “Swear I’m getting my daily dose of sodium right now.” Caleb chuckles while shaking his head.

“You can spit it out if you want. Here.” He brings his palm close to your face. Leaning over, you gather his pre-cum on the edge of your tongue and spit it onto his palm.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

He nods, “S’alright,” while grabbing one of the towels you placed on the bed earlier and wiping his hand on it. You two continue this routine: you bob your head a few times until you can’t take the thick brine and cough it out into his waiting hand, and then Caleb cleans his hand and the cycle begins again.

Sucking dick really isn’t as cool as all of those porn videos make it out to be.

Soon enough, you draw him out past your lips and whine, “Can I stop now? My jaw hurts.”

“You can stop whenever you like, pipsqueak,” Caleb reassures you. Nodding, you spit the last of his pre-cum into his palm and straighten up.

“Did you bring a condom?” You ask, already hopping off the bed while your date wipes up his hand. He nods to the bathroom.

“Whole box, baby. In the pocket of my blazer,” he informs you. His arm folds beneath his head as he watches you walk to the bathroom. A cocky grin spreads across his lips as your ass jiggles, and he uses this moment alone to pump his hard length a few times.

From the bathroom, you ask, “Can I have your wallet, too?!”

Caleb laughs, hand still wrapped from around his dick as he calls back, “Go for it!” He’s grinning contently as you step out, condoms in your grasp. Making your way over to him, you plop down and shimmy over to his spread legs.

“Off,” you command while tapping his now pre-cum-covered fingers. Immediately, he lets go and cleans off his hand while you tear into the fresh box of condoms and retrieve one.

“Okay, so teach me. How do I put one of these on?” You chirp.

Caleb instructs you, “Well, first you open the packet—” The red foil is no match for your prying fingers.

“Then, you put it on the tip. Yep, just like that. And then you pinch the tip of the condom. Uh-huh. And now roll it down.” You start rolling it down, but he grabs your wrist.

“No, don’t let go of the tip,” he says, while pulling the condom off and grabbing another foil.

Handing it to you, he murmurs, “Try again.” This time, you struggle to get the condom to roll down.

“Grab all the way around. NO. Okay, let me hold the tip and you use both hands to roll it down.” Caleb yanks the condom off and fetches another unopened packet.

You hold up the barely used one and ask, “Can’t we just reuse this one?”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “There’s a method to it, okay? Let’s try again, pipsqueak.” While you’re rolling this one down, you accidentally fumble the latex and it curls all the way back up.

“Are you sure this is the right size?” You ask, staring at him then his thick cock in disbelief.

Caleb jokes, “Are you sure you’re not just bad at this?”

You grumble, “Hey! It’s not funny, okay? Your condom is the problem, not me.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins, fishing for yet another condom. You reach out to help, but he shakes your hands off.

“Let me handle this, okay? You can put the next one on.” You hum in agreement, watching as he slips it on with ease. Placing the box off to the side, you climb on top of Caleb and straddle him.

But before you can grind on him, he confirms, “You’ve got lube, right, pips?”

“Oh,” you mumble, staring at him wide-eyed. Lube… lube? Lube! You remember you bought some in prep for tonight. But where you put it is the real question. Getting off him, you stumble to your drawers and start pulling out everything in sight, until finally, you hit the jack pot.

The bed bounces as you scramble onto it and open the lid. Clear liquid pools into your hands, the stream too steady. It spills onto Caleb’s shin, and you apologise while closing the cap.

Sitting up, he takes the bottle from you and pours some out onto his palms. You lube up his latex-clad cock, even squeezing his balls and spreading it through his neatly trimmed pubes. Your date caresses your folds and inner thighs, making them all shiny before guiding you to straddle him again.

“You want it like this, pips?” He asks while circling your waist with his beefy arms. You nod and lift your hips. Your hands fly to his shoulders to stabilise yourself as he runs the head of his cock through your slit.

A jagged moan escapes your lips, some sensitivity lingering from your first orgasm of the night. He prods at your entrance, about to press in.

Caleb murmurs, “You ready?”

“Mhmm, I’m ready,” you breathe out. With your affirmative, he pushes in. Your breath hitches, the feeling of his fat cock strange. As you slowly slide down on his length, you think of all the dildos you’ve ever played with, including the ones you were using last night to help with right now.

But no sex toy could have prepared you for having Caleb Xia’s dick inside of your cunt. It’s so warm and thick, and it keeps twitching. Not to mention the accompanying squeezes to your hips and breathy moans slipping from his lips. Once your hips kiss, you gaze up at the model.

“You alright?” He asks gently, his large hands coming to your jaw and holding it firmly. His thumbs swipe across your cheeks soothingly.

Leaning forward, you prop your forehead against his and answer, “Feels weird. Like, it has a mind of it’s own.” Caleb chuckles softly, your sweetness endearing. But it’s cut short when you clench tight around him.

“Gonna be the death of me, pips,” he groans. You chortle while raising your head and shuffling your legs.

“Help me,” you whine, staring at the model expectantly. He smiles and kisses your brow before gripping your hips and lifting them.

“Up we go.” He focuses on the lewd sight of his cock drawing out of your snug cunt. As he lowers you back down, you both moan. It feels weird, but you grow to like it with each drop of your hips.

Caleb rests his head in the crook of your neck, moaning and whimpering so loudly the whole building must know what you’re doing. You’re squeezing the life out of him, making it ridiculously difficult not to nut within the first few minutes.

The model swears he’s better than this! He can last. He can fuck for hours on end. But here you are, ruining his stamina and pride. You lift up too high, his cock slipping out.

You whisper, “Sorry.”

“Ngh—s’okay,” Caleb rasps out while jerking himself a couple of times. He positions himself at your hole again, but you’re tensing up.

“Just relax, honey,” he coos. You nod fervently and try to, but you can’t stop clenching. Sighing, he pushes you into his chest and embraces you tenderly.

In your ear, he reminds you, “It’s okay to be nervous. Just take your time, pipsqueak. We’ve got all night and more.” You hum quietly, grateful for Caleb’s patience.

You two stay like that for a bit in comfortable silence, until he severs it with, “You feeling better now?”

“Mhmm.”

“D’you wanna try another position, baby?” He asks affectionately.

“Mhmm, yes please,” you respond, shifting in his lap to place a saccharine kiss on his lips. Caleb maneuvers you underneath him.

Leaning back, he grabs a pillow and slides it beneath your hips before caging you in with his meaty arms on either side of your head. Carefully, he eases into you, watching for any signs of discomfort as his hips meet yours. Your heels dig into the dips of his ass, and your arms loop around his neck for support.

“Alright, I’m gonna start moving now, okay?” He mumbles against your forehead, planting loving kisses there.

You hum, “M’kay.” Slowly, he thrusts in and out, whimpering pathetically as he does so. You don’t squeeze as hard this time, prioritising comfort while you navigate this new experience with him. This experience where your bodies connect and souls intertwine, fusing into something divine as your moans ricochet off the bedroom walls.

Caleb catches you in a passionate kiss, his emotions spewing past your lips and down your throat. He tugs off your arms from his neck and interlaces your fingers, pressing your hands into the mattress and palms together.

He breathes out, “This alright?”

You mewl, “Mhmm!—Really good, Caleb. But—ah!” Your head falls back as he hits a delicious spot nestled deep inside of you.

“But what, pips?” He pants, gazing at you with concern.

“Wish—hah!” His thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. Your back curves, breasts pressing into his chest as you clamp your legs around his hips.

You moan, “Ah!—wish we had some bgm or something.” His pace falters as a low chuckle rips through him.

“Your kidding me, right? We’re finally fucking and all you can think about is background music?” His tone is torn between playfulness and exasperation. You shake your head.

“I-think of other things, too,” you defend yourself.

He prompts, “Like what?”

“Like—mhmm!” Your lower lip catches between your teeth as Caleb presses against that spot again, eliciting guttural moans from you.

He repeats his question, “Like what, pipsqueak?” There’s an edge to his tone, but it’s lost in the breathiness of his voice.

You babble, “Think ‘bout how good this feels. Want it to last forever. Want you forever.” You’re helpless to stop the confession from escaping your lips as you cry out in pleasure. Your head lolls to the side, hazy eyes focusing on your joint hands while Caleb breathes on your neck.

You can’t bear to look at him, heat spreading across your body. The sweat he worked so hard to scrub off your body now returns in bucket loads.

His smile is etched into your temple as he presses a tender kiss there.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, pips. Won’t you—ah!—get sick of me?” Your head turns back as you gaze at him. His eyes are soft around the edges, but they burn bright with devotion need.

You shake your head and whimper, “Never get sick of you, Ca-leb.” Leaning up, you seize his soft lips in another kiss. This one is broken by resolve-shattering moans and sentimental whimpers. His thrusts become sloppier as the sounds of your sex grow louder.

In the space between breathy groans are the wet popping sounds of his cock drawing out of you. His clammy forehead glints in the cosy light and his cheeks are pink, and you’re positive you look the exact same.

You tug your hands free from his with little resistance and grab his jaw. Holding his face like it’s your anchor, ecstasy courses through your body, buzzing in every little nook and cranny.

Tides of pleasure rise and threaten to overflow as his hips stutter.

He moans, “Fuck, pips! Gonna cum. That okay?” You nod frenziedly, desiring nothing more than for him to finish inside of you–inside of his condom, of course.

With a few more rolls into you, he’s sputtering out fucked out moans and cumming like it’s his first time and not yours. You wrap your arms around his defined back and squeeze him as he releases it all.

Your date murmurs, “Thank you,” over and over like it’s a prayer. You’ve heard his orgasmic, breathy whimpers before, but they sound different in real life. Delusional, you tell yourself it’s because of how good you’ve made him feel. Logically, you recall that microphones can distort people’s voices.

And then you squeal, “Oh my god, Caleb!” He lifts off you immediately, sunset eyes searching yours panically.

“What is it, pips? You okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, concerned. His fingers encircle your upper arms and squish them reassuringly.

Your voice drops to a whisper, “You’re going soft!” He blinks at you perplexed for a few seconds before he erupts into his usual hearty laughter.

“’Course I’m going soft, pretty girl. What did you expect?” Your lips purse and brows pinch together as you stare at him moodily.

With his signature smirk, Caleb slowly pulls out of you and gets up to discard the used condom. When he returns, he embraces you in a lazy hug. You relax into his body, this feeling of being a new woman settling in.

No longer are you some inexperienced dweeb. But now, you are an experienced dweeb. Much the same, yet changed slightly.

“Caleb,” you say softly, nuzzling your face into his neck.

He pats your head lovingly while murmuring, “Yeah?”

“I really liked that. When you’re feeling better, can we keep going?” You kiss his neck gently, his sweat sticking to your lips.

He rubs your shoulder and replies, “Sure, honey. You got something in mind?” You shake your head slightly, which is met by another deep chuckle from the model.

Minutes pass as you two find solace in one another before picking things back up. Caleb takes good care of you by checking in on you at various points and adjusting where need be.

When your bodies are aching and slimy with a mixture of fluids, he kisses your forehead and carries you to the bathroom to shower again.

After freshening yourselves up, he helps you with your skincare and even let’s you lather his face and body up in moisturiser (the Lord knows he needs it). While you change into some comfy pj’s, he takes the dirty sheets off the mattress and puts new ones on.

Settling into your freshly made bed, you two cuddle and whisper sweet nothings.

You had always hoped your first time would be with the man you love. And you drift off into sleep with the satisfaction that it was.

masterlist

star girl's final words: EVERYONE GIVE JAY (@heartyluv) THE BIGGEST THANK YOU for 1) providing such spell-binding inspiration, and 2) letting me yap about my ideas. SECOND, let's also thank nat (@tragicvictoriantears) for listening to my rambles and giving me even more ideas for this whopper. THE FINAL THANK YOU goes to my physio friend who (inspired my zayne fic here and) will probably never read this. thanks pookie for reading my intro n' also listening to my rambles about this fic.

lmk if you'd like a part two!

you can find my thoughts on virginity here. i feel pretty much the same since i wrote this post in april. there will be no infantilised virgins in my fics, i can assure you!

part two

additional reading on vasectomies and sex work:

ABC ⟶ 'what sex work is like as a side hustle' ABC ⟶ 'sex work clients are increasingly women' ABC ⟶ 'so you want to book a sex worker' deseretnews ⟶ 'OF prostitution is ruining lives in real time' vasectomy australia ⟶ FAQs betterhealth victoria ⟶ 'contraception - vasectomy'

taglist - @calebs-apple, @mcdepressed290, @thirstblogforaparchedgirl, @ssushi, @asiatic-apple, @gunningformeow, @calebsbabyapple, @hilliserose

#★’s works #love and deepspace #caleb smut #caleb xia #caleb x reader #xia yizhou smut #lads caleb #lnds caleb #xia yizhou x reader #caleb love and deepspace

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scented-morker · 7 months ago

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Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

“Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

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serasalvatore · 2 months ago

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˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚. PIROUETTE !

single dad!jh86 x ballerina!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. mentions of single parenthood, brief emotional vulnerability, mild language, lots of fluff, found family themes.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you’ve been teaching ballet for a few years, but no student ever made quite the same impact as winnie hughes, she’s a chatty six-year-old with wild curls, energy, and stories about her superhero dad. you’ve never met him, never seen him at drop-off, but you’ve heard plenty about he’s good at skating, he makes the best grilled cheese, and he’s apparently okay with winnie calling her ballet teacher her bestfriend ever. and then one day, he shows up and asks you to be his date to a wedding, because winnie refuses to go unless you’re there. maybe it starts with ballet slippers and a flower girl dress, but where it goes next… well, that’s a story still being written.

𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒚𝒏. an ask for everything, you can send questions, recommend fics, self-promo, or even share your thoughts on my work.

002 ↦

winnie hughes never walks — she twirls.

everyweek, she bursts into the studio in her glittery pink leotard, ballet shoes in one hand and a lopsided bun already falling apart on her head. she always greets you the same way,

“hi miss y/n!!” l like you’re the highlight of her entire day.

kind ellen, her grandmother or sometimes a sweet neighbor lady named sandy, drops her off and waves through the window before leaving. and yet every single week, winnie talks about her dad like he’s a legend.

you’ve never seen her dad. only know his name is jack hughes and nothing more.

“my daddy skates sooo fast. faster than lightning.”

“he used to be on tv! and he says ballet is even harder than hockey.”

“daddy said he tried to do a plié once and fell on his butt.”

you smile at each story. you learn that her dad makes blueberry pancakes every saturday. that he once let winnie wear his jersey to school because she spilled orange juice on her favorite dress. that he tells her bedtime stories in funny voices, even when he’s tired.

and then, one rainy tuesday, while tying the ribbon on her slipper, winnie says it casually.

“i told daddy you’re my bestfriend ever, miss y/n.”

you glance up in surprise. “you did?”

she nods with a grin. “yup. i said, ‘miss y/n teaches me to fly with my feet.’ and he said that was a very nice thing to say.”

your heart swells in your chest.

then comes the day he walks into the studio.

you’re cleaning up after class, stacking mats, helping a student zip her coat when the door creaks open. for a split second, you think maybe sandy came early today.

but instead, it’s him.

tall, blue-eyed, a little unsure as he steps inside, one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket. his hair is tousled like he’s run his fingers through it too many times. and winnie? winnie lights up like she’s powered by sunshine.

“dadaaa!” she squeals, running toward him and nearly tackling him at the knees.

jack hugs her back without missing a beat, lifting her effortlessly.

“hey, bug.”

then she turns in his arms and gestures right at you with a dramatic flair.

“look, dada, that’s miss y/n! my bestfriend that i told you about!”

you blink, a little stunned. your cheeks warm as jack’s gaze meets yours.

his smile is crooked and gentle. “so you’re the famous miss y/n.”

“and you must be the skating superhero,” you say, still caught off guard.

he chuckles, the sound low and kind. “she talks about you all the time.”

“she talks about you, too,” you admit.

he nods, there’s a pause just long enough to feel the buzz of something unspoken and then he clears his throat.

“so… this might be kind of weird,” he says, “but my cousin’s wedding is this weekend. and winnie’s supposed to be the flower girl.”

you nod politely, unsure where this is going.

jack glances at winnie. “she told everyone she wasn’t going unless you were there.”

you blink. “me?”

“yeah. she told the whole family. says you’re her best friend and she wants to dance with you at the party. and she might’ve said… you were coming already.”

you look at winnie, who grins like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“so,” jack continues, “would you maybe come? as my date. or guest. or emotional support ballerina. whatever works.”

you smile, soft and a little amused. “well… how can i say no to my bestfriend?”

the wedding is held at a beautiful vineyard just outside of the city. you wear a dress that makes you feel light and graceful, and when winnie sees you, her eyes widen like you’re a princess from one of her storybooks.

“you look like a fairy, miss y/n!”

jack, beside her, just stares for a second too long.

“thanks,” he says, finally, clearing his throat. “for coming. really.”

winnie doesn’t leave your side the whole afternoon.

you help her tuck flowers into her basket before the ceremony. you hold her hand when she gets nervous walking down the aisle. you cheer the loudest when she nails her toss of petals and runs back to the front row giggling.

jack keeps glancing your way like he’s watching something unfamiliar and comforting all at once.

people make assumptions.

“oh, you must be jack’s girlfriend!”

“are you winnie’s mom? you two look so close!”

you always smile, always say the same thing. “no, i’m just her ballet teacher.”

but the word “just” doesn’t feel quite right.

you hold winnie’s shoes when she wants to dance barefoot. you braid her hair when it gets messy. you wrap her in your cardigan when the night breeze picks up and she starts to yawn. she falls asleep leaning on your shoulder and you don’t move not even when your arm goes numb.

jack eventually walks over and sits beside you. he looks at her, then at you.

“she’s usually pretty shy at these things,” he says quietly. “but… not tonight.”

you glance down at winnie, breathing softly, hand still curled around yours.

“she’s such a nice little girl,” you whisper.

he nods. “she is.”

there’s a stretch of silence. the lights above you glow gold and soft.

“you’re really good with her,” jack says after a moment.

“i love being around her,” you reply honestly.

he doesn’t say anything else, but the way he looks at you, don’t know what this is yet.

you don’t know if it’s something or just a lovely moment made of lace and laughter and winnie’s sunshine smile. but when jack helps you carry her to the car and buckles her in gently, then opens the door for you, you feel something slow, something warm.

and maybe it’s the start.

#nhl imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes #hockey imagine #jack hughes fluff #hughes brothers #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x fem!reader

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moonreader1010 · 6 months ago

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How your FS will act after your first night together 💋

-by Valerie 🧿

Please pick one of the following piles:-

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. ^

Note:- 1. Pick the pile that calls you.

2. This is an 18+ reading. Mdni

3. The pictures used don't belong to me. All rights go to the original owners.

4. Have fun 💋

Pile 1

The Eternal Dream

The morning after your first night together feels like stepping into a romantic dream they never want to end. They wake up before you, lying still, watching the rise and fall of your breath. Their heart swells as they take in the sight of you—hair tousled, your skin glowing in the golden morning light. It’s not just lust or infatuation; it’s something deeper. They reach out to softly brush a strand of hair from your face, their fingers lingering just a moment longer as if savoring your presence.

When you wake up, they greet you with a gentle, almost shy smile, their eyes holding a new softness you hadn’t seen before. “Good morning,” they murmur, their voice lower than usual, and it sends a warm shiver through you. They can’t help but pull you closer, their lips grazing your forehead. They whisper something vulnerable, like, “You’re more beautiful than I even imagined.” The intimacy feels different now—deeper, more magnetic.

As the morning progresses, they’re utterly attentive. They insist on making breakfast, but only after stealing kisses along the way. There’s a playfulness in their actions, but beneath it, a raw sincerity. Over coffee, they speak of the future in subtle ways, mentioning how they’d love to wake up like this every day or teasingly asking, “How would you feel about dogs running around the house?” Their mind races with images of shared moments—lazy mornings, cozy nights, and everything in between.

But when you least expect it, their passion flares. They lean in mid-conversation, pinning you with their gaze, and kiss you again, this time slower, deeper. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” they confess, their voice thick with emotion. They aren’t just falling—they’ve fallen, and they’ll spend the rest of the day showing you just how much.

Pile 2.

The Passionate Realist

They wake up with a fire in their chest, the events of the night before replaying vividly in their mind. For a moment, they lie still, their hand resting on your waist, feeling the warmth of your body against theirs. It’s a grounding moment, as if they’re telling themselves, This is real. This is mine. When you stir, their lips curve into a slow, devilish smile. “Good morning,” they say, their voice husky with lingering desire.

They’re not shy about their admiration. Their gaze is bold, their touch purposeful as they trail their fingers along your skin. “You’re stunning,” they murmur, their words dripping with sincerity. They kiss you again, their lips hungry yet tender, as if trying to communicate what words can’t. There’s an intensity in the air—an undeniable chemistry that leaves you both breathless.

As you pull yourself out of bed, they watch you with a smirk, leaning back on the pillows like they’re the luckiest person in the world. “Don’t get too far,” they tease, their tone light but their eyes holding a spark of mischief. Their energy is contagious.

But as the day unfolds, their deeper side emerges. They’ll sit with you, their voice steady as they speak of their dreams, their fears, and their hopes for the future. They’ll share things they haven’t told anyone before, their walls crumbling because of the trust you’ve built together. By the end of the day, they’re more certain than ever: you’re not just someone they desire. You’re someone they’re willing to build their life around.

Pile 3.

The Protective Lover

They wake up as if guarding a sacred treasure, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Their first thought is simple: I need to keep them safe. I need to make them happy. The sight of you beside them is almost too much to take in—your bare skin glowing softly in the pale light, your warmth still lingering in their embrace. They kiss the top of your head gently, as if not to wake you, their lips brushing against your hair in a gesture of quiet reverence.

When you stir, their eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. “Hey, gorgeous,” they whisper, their voice thick with emotion. They trace patterns along your shoulder, their touch slow and deliberate. They’re not just admiring you—they’re memorizing you, engraving every detail of this moment into their mind. You notice something different in their gaze, a blend of adoration and something deeper, like unspoken promises and unshakable devotion.

As the morning unfolds, they show their affection in practical yet endearing ways. They make sure you’re comfortable, fetching whatever you need before you even realize you want it. They’ll bring up little memories, like the first time they noticed your laugh or the exact moment they fell for you, weaving a thread of nostalgia into the morning. But beneath their gentle exterior lies a hint of insecurity, a fear they keep hidden. They might hesitate before speaking, their voice soft as they say, “You know you mean everything to me, right?”

Later, they’ll tease you playfully, their eyes sparkling as they suggest spending the day together doing something spontaneous, just the two of you. But as they hold you close, their touch lingers longer than usual, and you feel their need to protect this connection. They won’t say it outright, but you’ve broken down their walls, and they’re utterly, irrevocably yours.

---------

DM for paid readings 💋💋

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bloodibambiidoll · 11 months ago

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Beautifully Broken (Eric Draven x Reader)

Ever since you arrived to the rehab facility you were sent to, you can’t keep your eyes off of him… 900wk, Unprotected sex, choking, dirty talk 18+MDNI Part 2

A/N: I just saw this movie an hour ago and I am absolutely possessed. Bill skårsgard is the love of my life and this just did something to my brain. You’ll probably be seeing more of him…

Ever since you arrived here there’s only been one thing on your mind, one thing keeping you going and it was him. He was so beautifully broken that you were immediately taken by him, even if you’ve never spoken to him. But you watched. You watch the way he almost always chooses silence over speaking. He never shared at circle or sat with anyone during meal time. You watched his defiance to the guards and doctors. The way he rebelled against them with a stone expression and a locked jaw, still not saying a word. You watched the way he would draw, scribbling away in his sketchbook like it was the only thing in the world to him. The way his large tattooed hands would grip onto the charcoal pencils made your thighs clench and his face was so beautiful it made your heart ache.

His sea green eyes always held a look of determination, his plush pink lips were always slightly downturned and it made you want to know what he looked like when he smiled. His jet black mullet was always slightly messy and the pink sweatsuit sat taunt against his large frame, you’re surprised they even had a size long enough to accommodate his height. He was an irresistible mystery that you wanted to pick apart and piece back together with pieces of your own broken soul. So you couldn’t watch anymore, you couldn’t wander, you had to know. You square your shoulders and march forward with purposeful steps before plopping yourself down at the table next to him.

“Hi.” You give him a soft smile and tell him your name and he just stares at you, those striking eyes roaming your face intently. That ever neutral expression gave nothing away. His eyes lock with yours and you stare at each other like you’re trying to search each other’s minds. After a moment he releases you from his hypnotizing gaze to glance around the room before looking back at you.

“They don’t really like opposite genders sitting with each other.” He rests his hands on the table, tapping the metal of his rings against the cheap glazed wood.

“Yeah? Well I don’t really give a shit.” You tilt your head to the side, your eyes sparkling with mischief and your lips turned up in the most beautifully sinister smirk he’s ever seen.

“I’m Eric.” His corner of his lips raises slightly and it makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. You can’t help but wonder what his laugh sounds like.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eric.”

“Shhh, baby, you gotta be quiet for me.” Eric’s inked hand comes up to cover your mouth as he pounds into you deep and rough from behind. He has you pressed up against the wall in the back of the laundry room with your pink sweatpants pooled at your feet. Your back is arched as far as it can go, your hips meeting his own with each brutal thrust. His free hand is shoved up your sweatshirt, groping your braless tits and playing with your sensitive nipples. Eric leans down to place sloppy kisses on your neck and it has your pussy clenching around him. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm!” You moan into his palm, your drool starting to drip down his wrist. Eric moves his hand from your mouth so he can grip onto your throat instead and it has your eyes rolling back.

“I want to hear you say my name when you fall apart on my cock.” His voice is like honey when his lips ghost against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Touch yourself for me.”

“Fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.” You bring your hand between your legs and find your slick clit, the feeling of your fingertips against your sensitive bud sending you over the edge. “Fuck, Eric! I’m coming, I’m fucking coming.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl, fucking cum for me.” His grip on your throat tightens as he fucks into you mercilessly, chasing his own high. “I’m going to fill you up so deep it won’t be leaking out until we are in the yard for gym hour and you start doing jumping jacks.”

“Oh, fuuuuck. That’s- that’s so fucking hot, please please, give it to me. Give me your cum, Eric.” You reach behind you to yank on the hair at the nape of his neck and it has his hips stilling against yours while he spills inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” Eric growls in your ear as his cock continues to twitch inside you, filling you to the brim just like he promised. He pulls out gently, holding onto you with one arm so your legs don’t give out. He runs his fingers along your inner thighs and over your sensitive pussy, gathering the cum that leaked out before pushing it back in. “Wouldn’t want any to go to waste.”

He leans down and pulls up your pants and your panties before flipping you around so your back is against the wall. Eric chuckles before smiling down at you sweetly, those beautiful green eyes twinkling with adoration and it’s everything you could’ve ever dreamed. He’s so beautifully broken, and entirely yours.

Divider is by @thecutestgrotto

#the crow 2024 #the crow #the crow 2024 fanfiction #Eric Draven #eric draven x reader #Eric Draven smut #Eric Draven fanfiction #Eric Draven blurb #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard imagine #Dolly writes

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mariasont · 4 months ago

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dangerous currents

sharing a wall with hotch means resorting to a midnight swim, you weren't expecting him to join you

pairing: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: fem!reader, midnight swim, reader alluding to some naughty thoughts, hotch accidentally grabs readers ass prompt: here wc: 1.2k

Honestly, you don’t recall consciously deciding to go swimming. One minute you’re wrestling with sheets that somehow manage to be both itchy and disappointingly thin, trapped in the endless loop of your overly chatty brain, and the next you’re thigh-deep in moonlit waves, saltwater lapping around you like a peace offering for your misery.

If you’re being brutally honest (and lately, brutal honesty seems to be your new best friend), your insomnia might have something, just a smidge, to do with Hotch lying just inches away, separated by drywall and what might as well be actual paper for insulation.

Your hearing has leveled up overnight, picking up every breath, every toss and turn from his side.

It feels wrong, intrusive even, but also exhilaratingly intimate.

Which explains why, at two in the morning, you’re out here, counting on saltwater to settle your overactive mind and extinguish the stubborn heat flooding your face.

You’re mid-float when your instincts snap you upright, adrenaline spiking so fast you almost inhale a lungful of ocean.

There’s a shadow on the shoreline.

But then it steps forward, moonlight carving out the unmistakable angles of a handsome face that sends your stomach tumbling into your feet for a different but no less stressful reason.

Hotch.

You could laugh or cry, but instead, you quietly make your way towards the shore, waves breaking around your ankles.

“You scared me half to death,” you mumble, hugging your arms around your chilled body and feeling every bit like a reckless kid who’s just disappointed the one person she desperately wanted to impress.

“Do you know how unsafe it is to swim alone at night?” His lips press into a straight line. “Anything could’ve happened, and none of us would have any idea.”

“Sorry,” you exhale, sincerity tangled up with humiliation as your gaze flickers upward through wet lashes.

You mean it. Of course you do — he looks worried, and that worry always seems worse when it’s aimed directly at you.

Hotch studies you for a second, then asks, “Do you plan on coming inside anytime soon?”

Going inside would be simpler. Easier. You could neatly sidestep this entire messy situation.

But the moment you close the door behind you, it’s back to square one — too quiet, too dark, thoughts screaming at you in surround sound.

A single creak of his bed, and suddenly you’re in dangerous territory. What if he sleeps shirtless? Or in boxers? What if that sound he just made is the result of an indecent dream?

And then, somehow, you are the indecent one, palms tingling with a restless need that used to feel rare but lately shows up with frustrating frequency.

All because of him.

“I think I’ll stay out for a little longer,” you say, tossing a forced shrug. “The ocean hasn’t tried to kill me yet, so I figure we’re on decent terms.”

Hotch arches a brow at that, clearly unamused. He glances at the ocean, then back to you, a silent calculation taking place behind dark eyes.

Then, without warning, he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, folding it once before tossing it onto the sand.

“What are you doing?”

He gives you a faint, reckless half-smile. “Making a bad decision.”

You laugh, more out of shock than anything else.

He steps toward the water, shirtless, and suddenly every thought you’ve ever had vacates your head.

Sure, yesterday you’d seen him on the beach, but that was distant and crowded, shielded by sunglasses and casual team conversation.

Here, now, it’s just you, him, and the unsparing glow of moonlight revealing every agonizing thing you absolutely shouldn't notice. Like the dark dusting of chest hair, the disciplined sculpt of muscle across his torso, the line of hair drawing your gaze lower, lower —

You swallow roughly, stepping deeper into the water to physically pull yourself out of danger, but your gaze betrays you once more, darting sideways in helpless fascination.

“How did you know I was out here?”

“You’re not exactly quiet.”

Your blood turns to ice, then instantly flares hot. How did it never occur to you that if you could practically track his breathing patterns, he could easily have heard your shifting, your whispered curses, or worse, that one barely suppressed sigh when your imagination got carried away earlier.

“I guess not,” you mutter, “I didn’t realize you were listening.”

His laugh is quiet but genuine, and you’re surprised to find yourself smiling in return. How bizarre yet wonderful it is to witness the softer version of Hotch, miles away from the person he has to be at Quantico. You suddenly want very much to keep him like this.

“Funny,” he murmurs, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Your face instantly burns, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful for the darkness, although knowing your luck, that probably isn’t really doing you any favors. You force a shaky laugh, pretending you didn’t just hear the tease in his voice, or at least pretending it didn’t affect you.

“You really didn’t have to come out here,” you say, eyes fixed stubbornly on the horizon past his shoulders. “I would’ve been fine, you know.”

The water rises around your collarbones, licking under your chin with every small movement. Hotch stands barely submerged past his chest. Even nature is unreasonably biased toward him.

You dig your toes deeper into the sand, resisting the tide and the impulse that keeps nudging you closer to him.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t drown.”

You open your mouth — to protest, maybe flirt (wishful thinking, obviously), or perhaps just awkwardly deflect — but before you can embarrass yourself further, a sudden wave crashes forward, knocking you straight into him.

Hotch barely budges, absorbing most of your momentum, but your hands land catastrophically. One lands safely on his chest, but the other falls disproportionately lower, fingers splayed over the enticing line of hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

Simultaneously, his own hand catches your hip, then slides, firm and unintentional, on your ass.

Both of you freeze.

“Sorry — I — um, the wave.” As if that clarifies anything at all.

Beneath your hand, his stomach tenses, his chest lifting with increasingly rapid breaths.

Still, Hotch doesn’t move, doesn't shift away. His palm stays exactly where it landed, warm, and surely, he has to know exactly what he’s doing. He has to.

“You’re freezing.”

“I —,” you start but whatever you meant to say disappears before it finishes forming.

He slowly, almost reluctantly lifts his hand from you. Your skin sparks at the loss, hypersensitive where he just was.

When you meet his eyes again, something new flickers there — something you’re certain wasn’t present before tonight.

Want.

It’s a look he’s taught you to recognize — eyes darkening, pupils dilating, respiration just a bit quicker. Except this isn’t an interrogation room, and the person in front of you is not a suspect, he’s Hotch.

And this want feels very, very personal.

But he only nods once, then glances toward the beach house.

“We should get out of the water.”

You don’t want to get out. Every part of you rebels at the idea of leaving this bubble. This fragile space that’s somehow made everything else feel distant, unreal.

But you can’t deny the truth in what he doesn't say. If this boundary were broken tonight, there’s no going back, no returning to the careful neutrality you’ve both perfected.

So, you nod slowly, forcing acceptance as your heart protests.

He moves first, and you fall into step beside him, close enough that your shadows merge.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 1 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

#mariasspringbreakgetaway #mariaversegetawaytrip #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader #aaron hotchner x sweetheart reader

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this-is-tiny-mia · 4 months ago

Text

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot) Part 3 (Last Part)

General Masterlist Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages.

Finally Y/N and Harry give in to their feelings.

A/n: I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW MUCH SUPPORT THIS SERIES GOT, I HAD SO SO SO SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT AND I CAN'T WAIT TO DO MORE STUFF. Thanks if you liked, shared, left a comment, anything! REALLY THANK YOU SO SO MUCH.

Thanks to the best of the best @eileenrry for hyping me up (It's already saturday over there so i guess it's fair i'm publishing this now) Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: A LOT OF FLUFF AND A LOT OF CHEESY DATES YOU'LL BE THROWING UP BY THE END OF IT. MAINLY CUTESY STUFF FOR YOU TO FANTASIZE ABOUT. Use of y/n, everything happens really fast, time moves QUICK.

You read his text again, your heart racing. It was playful, sure, but there was something else—something unspoken, just under the surface.

"I think it means we’re in trouble," you finally typed, keeping it vague. You didn’t want to assume anything yet.

"Trouble? 🤔" His reply came almost immediately. "Define trouble."

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could you define something you didn’t fully understand yourself? How could you put butterflies at full speed into words?

"I don’t know," you typed. "Maybe… when someone sneaks into your head when you’re supposed to be working, and suddenly spreadsheets don’t make sense anymore."

Brave of you. Classy, even. You hit send and stared at the screen, instantly second-guessing yourself. It was honest, sure, but had you said too much?

The three little dots appeared. Then it disappeared. Then it appeared again.

Oh, shit. Please say something.

"You know what I think it means?" he finally wrote.

"What?"

"That I’ve somehow managed to ruin spreadsheets for you, and I’m not even sorry."

You giggled out loud, the sound breaking through the quiet of your room.

"Good to know you have no regrets" you replied, a smile spreading across your face that nothing could erase.

"None at all," he shot back. "But for the record, you’ve ruined a few things for me too."

The conversation hung there for a moment, his words settling over you like a soft weight. You wanted to ask what he meant, but you were terrified of the answer.

"Fair enough. I guess we’re even," you typed back.

“Want to ruin things for each other tomorrow?”

“What does that even mean?” you chuckled, staring at your phone.

“It means I’ll think of you tomorrow, and I hope you’ll think of me too. Goodnight, Tulip 🌷.”

It felt completely surreal, like you were trapped in a dream you never wanted to wake up from. You couldn’t help but thank your past self—and your lousy fingers—for mistyping that single, life-changing number. Just one little mistake, and now here you were, heart racing and thoughts spiraling every time his name lit up your screen. It was pure magic.

The next morning, you found yourself humming while making breakfast. Humming! Like you were Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, twirling around your kitchen like the birds were about to join in. You were a walking cliché, and you didn’t even care. Doomed, yes—but in the best way possible. In love, obviously. The knock at the door jolted you out of your fairytale haze. You blinked, momentarily confused, before heading to answer it. Standing there was a delivery man holding the biggest bouquet of tulips you'd ever seen—bright, colorful, and completely over-the-top in the best way.

"I didn’t…" you started, unsure if this was a mistake.

"Delivery for Y/N," the grumpy delivery man interrupted, already turning on his heel. "Have a good day or whatever." And just like that, he was gone, leaving you in the doorway with the bouquet in your hands, completely stunned. Were these even meant for you? He hadn’t checked any ID or anything. But the moment your eyes landed on the card nestled between the tulips, your heart flipped.

For Tulip From H.

It was all you needed. That tiny, scribbled note said everything. You felt the heat rush to your face as a grin spread across it. Of course they were yours. Who else would send tulips to you?

You closed the door behind you, clutching the bouquet like it was the most precious thing in the world, unable to wipe the smile off your face.you stared at the flowers like an idiot for a hot minute and quickly grabbed your phone to text him but he beat you to it, as you were typing the message his came first. “Morning Tulip, hope you were awake.”

“I was indeed, woke up to 25 tulips in my face.”

“Oh really? I thought I said 30. Someone’s getting fired,” he replied, clearly joking.

“I really love them, they’re beautiful. 25 is more than enough. Why the flowers, though?” You played the innocent card, knowing full well the answer.

“Oh, I thought I should make sure to mess with those spreadsheets today.”

The sound that escaped your mouth wasn’t even human—it was a mix between a laugh and a scream. You quickly tried to gather your thoughts to reply.

“Then how can I make sure I mess with your day?” you typed, feeling bolder than usual.

“You already are doing it, Tulip.”

And just like that, your heart was officially ruined for the day. You stared at his last message, rereading it like it held the secrets of the universe. How did he do that? Ruin your entire day—in the best way possible—with just a few words?

“Good to know I’m effective” you replied, smirking to yourself.

“So… how do you feel about letting me ruin your evening too?”

It’s happening! Everybody calm down! it’s happening!. Your stomach flipped. You typed and deleted your reply about five times before settling on something casual.

“Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“Dinner? Unless you’re busy with those spreadsheets.” There it was again, the perfect balance of teasing and genuine interest.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your firing spree, but… dinner sounds good.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

As you stared at the screen, excitement mixed with nerves. Was this real? Was he actually asking you out? Tulips were one thing, but a whole dinner? That felt… bigger. And 7. It was barely 9:30 am, and you had to wait until 7? That’s torture. What were you supposed to do for the next few hours? Sit around and obsess over every possible scenario? Yeah, you did.

You groaned and tossed your phone on the couch, pacing the room like it might somehow speed up time. Maybe you’d clean the apartment—again. Or work on those spreadsheets he seemed so intent on ruining. Or maybe… you’d just spend the day imagining what this dinner would actually be like. Would it be casual, or was he planning something elaborate? What would he wear? Oh god, what should you wear? The spiral of overthinking had officially begun, and 7 PM felt like a lifetime away.

By the time 7 PM FINALLY rolled around, you were a bundle of nerves. After hours of trying on clothes and second-guessing your choices, you’d settled on something simple but flattering. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, but let’s face it—you were. A buzz on your phone snapped you out of your last-minute mirror check.

“Outside. No pressure, but I’m hungry.”

You laughed, grabbed your bag, and took one last deep breath before stepping outside. There he was, leaning casually against his car, looking effortlessly perfect. How was it possible for someone to make standing look so good? Only Harry Styles.

“Nice ride,” you teased, trying to hide your nerves.

“Nice dress,” he shot back, smirking as he opened the passenger door for you. LOST, you are more than lost for this man.

The drive was filled with the kind of banter that felt like second nature by now. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, just that it was “low-key, but worth it.” That’s what you expected actually, he was really recognizable, and you? could be mistaken for a waitress if some took the correct picture. Harry Styles and who is she? But then you ended up at a cozy little Italian place tucked away in a quiet corner of the city.

“Looks amazing” you asked as he held the door open for you.

“Wait till you taste it” he said, leading you inside. Wait…was that….about the restaurant? or….

The atmosphere was warm and intimate, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. You sat across from him at a small corner table, feeling like the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Alright, let’s get this out of the way,” he said, leaning forward with a grin. “Tell me all the embarrassing stories about yourself before the breadsticks get here.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Absolutely not. But I’ll trade one for one if you’re brave enough.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s on.”

The night unfolded with laughter, stolen glances, and stories that made both of you feel like you’d known each other forever. At some point, you realized you hadn’t checked your phone once—a miracle in itself. You were used to distract yourself whenever the guy you were out with started to talk about bitcoin or some pyramid scheme. When the check came, he waved you off before you could even reach for your wallet.

“Don’t start,” he warned, smirking. “Consider it a payment for ruining your spreadsheets.”

I don’t even think we can still say butterflies. let’s evolve to a full on zoo. As he walked you back to your door later that night, the air between you felt charged but comfortable. You paused, turning to face him.

“Thank you. For tonight. It was…”

“Perfect,” he finished for you, his voice soft.

You didn’t even mind that he left you with just that. No kiss, no dramatic goodbye.

But.

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, and your breath caught.

‘Can I…’ he started, voice barely above a whisper, ‘...do one more thing to completely ruin your night?’

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. You tilted your face up slightly, and he took the hint, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, his hand came up to gently cup your jaw, deepening the kiss just enough to leave you dizzy. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, both of you breathing slightly harder.

‘I think you just ruined my whole life,’ you said. It was pathetic, but it was a completely, utterly, undeniable truth.

‘Alright, Tulip. I’ll take full responsibility. But if I’ve ruined your life, I guess I’m going to have to stick around and fix it.’

You could feel your knees WEAK.

----

By now Gwen knew about your lovelife, who didn’t when you were dating Harry Styles, it was really difficult to hide the blushing moments, the giggles, the fancy car that picked you up every now and then, Your days were magical. MORE than magical.

May 12

Harry had sent you a song that morning with a simple text

“This one it’s just pure truth. Song link Specially 2:32”

Listening to it on repeat throughout the day, you couldn’t help but smile. It was one of those songs that felt like a confession, like it was saying all the things he hadn’t quite said yet.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Mr. Styles?" you texted.

"YOU tell me 😉"

May 14

You snapped a picture of your desk—papers, coffee cups, and a very tired-looking plant all vying for space.

"Welcome to chaos" you captioned it and sent it to him.

Seconds later, a photo of a perfectly neat studio table arrived, complete with his notebook, a few pens, and an untouched cup of tea.

"Show-off" you texted.

"Organized chaos" he corrected. “Coming to make me company later?”

“Obviously”

May 18

“🌷”

Every morning now started with a single tulip emoji from Harry. No text, no explanation—just the flower. It made you laugh every time, this simple, silent ritual he’d created just for you. There was something about it—something understated and intimate.

It didn’t matter if the rest of the world felt chaotic or overwhelming; that one tiny emoji always managed to anchor you. Some days, you’d wake up to find it already waiting for you, like a quiet reminder that someone out there was thinking of you. Other days, it would pop up mid-morning, just as you were starting to feel the weight of your to-do list. But he NEVER failed to send it.

You weren’t even sure how he’d decided to start—but you knew it was the first thing you’d look for every day. It wasn’t grand or overly sentimental, but that’s what made it so special. It was Harry in the simplest, purest form—thoughtful, playful, and somehow always knowing exactly what you needed without you ever having to say a word. Sometimes, you’d reply with nothing more than a matching tulip. Other times, you’d tease him with a string of emojis—🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷—followed by a cheeky, “Did one not feel sufficient today, love?” Yes. “Love” had made its way into the conversation. Tulip was still his favorite, but love was now in the game.

He never explained it, never justified it. But in those simple tulips, he said so much more: I’m here for you. I see you. I want you.

May 30

When you told Harry you’d finally gotten the project approved at work, his response came in the form of three celebratory emojis: 🎉🥂🌷.

"I’m so proud of you, my tulip" he wrote.

It wasn’t over-the-top or overly formal, but it hit you right where it mattered. The simplicity, the care—it was so very him.

"You were the one pushing me to keep doing it at midnight that day in your apartment. So it’s all because of you 💖"

The rest of the day passed in a blur of emails, calls, and the lingering glow of Harry’s words. By the time evening rolled around, you were ready to collapse on the couch with a mindless TV show and a celebratory glass of wine. That was the plan as Harry told you he was stuck with some family stuff, at least, until the doorbell rang. You frowned. You weren’t expecting anyone. Pulling your sweater tighter around you, you padded to the door and peered through the peephole. And there he was.

Harry. Standing on your doorstep, wearing that damn smile, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and—of course—a single tulip in the other.

You flung the door open, heart racing. "Harry, what—"

"Celebrating you, obviously," he said, stepping inside like he’d always belonged there. He handed you the tulip first, letting his fingers brush yours, then held up the champagne. "I figured we could upgrade from emojis."

You laughed, caught somewhere between disbelief and pure joy. "You didn’t have to do this."

"Didn’t I?" he countered, his tone soft but teasing. "You work so hard, Tulip. You deserve to be celebrated properly. And most importantly by your boyfriend"

It was more than 1 month since he made it completely official, and called himself your boyfriend, and you obviously didn’t argue about it, but still, it all felt like a dream. YOUR BOYFRIEND wanted to celebrate you and that’s exactly what he did. You spent the evening sitting on the living room floor, sharing stories, clinking glasses, and laughing until your cheeks hurt. At one point, he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and simply said, "I’m proud of you."

It wasn’t loud or flashy, but it was everything. The kind of moment that imprinted itself on your heart, quietly becoming one of your favorites.

June 8

"Busy next Friday?"

"Depends. What’s the occasion?"

"Thought you might like to see what all the fuss is about. Backstage pass included 😉. A kiss from the performer too. Maybe multiple ones."

“I ACCEPT”

Your heart raced. You weren't sure what terrified you more: being in his world or the fact that he wanted you to be. But in reality you were already in his world, of course there were many MANY articles of “Harry Styles spotted with mystery girl” but you were just too busy actually being so in love with him to even care.

July 16 It was Harry’s idea.

“I’m a decent cook,” he said, grinning as he rolled up his sleeves. “You’ll be impressed. Trust me.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you trusted him, but the idea of spending the evening in his kitchen, cooking together, sounded perfect. He handed you an apron, and you got to work. The plan was ambitious: homemade pasta and sauce, garlic bread, and a simple dessert. But things went off course almost immediately.

“Is this what dough is supposed to look like?” you asked, holding up a sticky mess that refused to cooperate.

Harry peered over your shoulder, frowning. “Uh… probably not. But it’s okay! It’s rustic.”

“Rustic,” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your explanation for this disaster?”

“It’s charming,” he said, taking the dough from you and attempting to salvage it.

“Do you happen to have Gordon Ramsay on your contacts?” You said looking at the unfinished (a bit uneatable) dinner. “I do, but i don’t think he would want to see this”

By the time the pasta was in the pot, you were both covered in flour, and the kitchen looked like a tornado had swept through it. The sauce was a little too salty, the garlic bread had burned edges, and somehow, the dessert had completely fallen apart.But when you sat down at the tiny kitchen table, your mismatched plates in front of you, it didn’t matter.

“To our first—and possibly last—cooking adventure,” Harry said, raising his glass of wine.

“Here’s to hoping we survive the food poisoning,” you joked, clinking your glass against his.

But the truth was, the meal was delicious in its imperfection. And as you sat there, laughing and stealing bites from each other’s plates, you realized it wasn’t about the food at all. It was about this—about him.

----

It had been two days. Harry was on a quick trip to L.A., and the time zones, paired with his whirlwind schedule, made communication sporadic. You told yourself he was busy—his life was far more chaotic than yours—but the silence still felt deafening.

You’d held back from texting or calling him, trying not to seem clingy, but the doubts crept in anyway. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you were too much.

Finally, you broke. Your fingers hovered over your phone, hesitating over his contact like he wasn’t your boyfriend, like he was once again just a stranger. Before you could overthink it, you sent a simple message: “Am I ruining your days over there?👀🌷”

The minutes stretched into hours with no reply. You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your phone until the screen dimmed, reflecting your worried expression.

Then came the knock.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, rushing to the door.

Harry stood there, out of breath, hair disheveled, his eyes searching yours like he’d been running for miles.

“You’re in L.A.,” you blurted, confused.

“Was,” he corrected, stepping closer. “I—I couldn’t do this over text.”

“Do what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He held up his phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Your text stared back at you.

“This. You. I literally cannot think straight when I’m away from you.” His voice cracked slightly, and your heart clenched. “I don’t care if we’re moving too fast. I think about you all the time, and I’m—”

You stepped forward, cutting him off as your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Harry, stop,” you murmured against his chest, your voice soft but sure. “You’re here. That’s all I need.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands firm but gentle on your arms. “No, you don’t understand,” he said, his gaze steady. “I love you. Completely. Hopelessly. And I couldn’t let another second go by without telling you.”

The world seemed to tilt, his words hanging in the air.

“You idiot,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as a smile broke through. “I love you too.”

The kiss that followed wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t a question or a test. It was an answer—a culmination of every tulip emoji, late-night text, and unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you laughing softly, Harry reached into his bag and pulled out a single tulip, slightly crumpled but no less beautiful.

“I couldn’t come empty-handed,” he said with a lopsided grin.

You took the flower, your smile uncontainable. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

That night, curled up on the couch with his arm around your shoulders and the tulip resting in a vase on the coffee table, you realized something profound.

It wasn’t the tulips, the texts, or the grand gestures that made this real. It was the quiet moments—the shared smiles, the silent understanding, the unwavering presence.

No matter what, you had each other.

Forever. --- A/n: If you made it til the end, i just want to say thanks again 🥹🫶 If you have any suggestions or comments or complaints! , please feel free to reach out! --- Taglist:

@jackiehollanderr @proudravenclawbird @hopeyoustaythenight @maryjahps @obsessiveenthusiast @liiit44 @loveheart-123 @harrystyleshotwife @harryscherries28

@addiemb8332 @cumuluscranium @gguksfilter @alemunson42069 @sarah22194 @summertime-pills @hescrush @cosmomento @harrys-wifeyy @isinpfortvdmen

@familyshow-orisit @notsosweetcreature @cevans-winchester @camillegillians @donutsandpalmtrees @amateurduck @hermionelove @misty-heartbreak

#harry styles #hs4 #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #one shot #one shot harry styles #harry styles fluff #sorry wrong number #harry fic #hs fanfic #part 3

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greengoblinswifey · 9 months ago

Text

Torn— Drew Starkey x Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself torn between your boyfriend drew starkey and your costar nicholas chavez. what starts as a weird dynamic with you feeling guilty turns into passion at a party, leading to a moment where all three of you come together.

warnings— explicit content. threesome, unprotected sex, anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, double creampie, oral, fingering, face fucking, polygamy, praise kink, fluff.

You had been with Drew Starkey for a while now, and your relationship had always been solid. He was steady, reliable, and made you feel secure. But everything changed when you started filming a new movie with Nicholas Chavez. From the moment you met him, there was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that left you thinking about him more than you ever anticipated. It wasn’t just his good looks, there was something about his energy that pulled you in, leaving you feeling conflicted. You didn’t want to hurt Drew, but the connection with Nicholas was impossible to ignore.

As filming progressed, the chemistry between you and Nicholas became more intense. On-screen, your characters shared moments that felt a little too real, and off-screen, you found yourself getting lost in conversations with him. Drew noticed the shift. Instead of being jealous, though, he seemed curious, as if he could sense the spark between you and Nicholas, and, strangely, wasn’t bothered by it which went unnoticed by you. You were scared to bring up your feelings for Nicholas, afraid of what Drew might think, afraid of losing him. So, you stayed silent, trapped in a web of emotions.

Then, at a huge movie premiere party for the movie you filmed with Nicholas, everything came to a head. You had had a few drinks, and the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Drew and Nicholas both gravitated toward you throughout the night, their eyes never straying far. You felt the tension rising as they slowly closed in. Before you knew it, they had you cornered, Nicholas standing in front of you, his intense gaze holding yours, while Drew was behind you, his body pressing against yours and grinding, radiating heat.

“You okay?” Drew murmured in your ear, his voice low, but you could hear the underlying heat in it. His hands trailed over your hips, making your breath catch.

Before you could respond, Nicholas leaned in, his lips just inches from yours, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”

Your pulse raced. The teasing note in his voice, combined with the way Drew’s body pressed against yours, had you feeling trapped in the best way possible.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” you managed to whisper, though the way you trembled gave you away.

Nicholas smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

Drew’s grip on your waist tightened. “You can be honest, you know,” he added, his voice almost a growl. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Your mind was spinning. The music, the heat of their bodies, the weight of their attention, it was overwhelming. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you admitted, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t want to hurt either of you.”

Drew chuckled softly. “Who said I’m hurt?” His lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this too.”

Nicholas’ fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve been stuck between us for a while, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s okay, you don’t have to choose.”

Drunk on both alcohol and the intensity of the moment, you, Drew, and Nicholas ended up in your mansion together. The air was thick with unspoken desire, and everything felt like it had been leading to this moment.

Nicholas was the first to act, pulling you into a heated kiss while Drew watched, his eyes dark with hunger. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. Drew’s eyes flickered between you and Nicholas, revealing that the connection you felt wasn’t just your imagination, it was real for all three of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you breathed, your heart pounding as their hands explored your body.

Drew pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice raspy. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve both been wanting this.”

Nicholas smirked as his hands slipped under your dress, his touch sending electricity through your veins. “I think she knows now.” As their hands roamed over your body, you knew there was no going back.

“I want you,” Nicholas whispered against your skin as Drew's lips trailed down your collarbone. “Both of us do.”

Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as he kissed a path down your shoulder. “You’re ours,” he growled, and the intensity of their words sent your body into overdrive. He shoved you on the bed, his roughness matching with the tension in the air and he did something unexpected. Drew’s hands cupped Nicholas’ cheeks and their lips met in a passionate kiss filled with need that left you throbbing. You never expected this from either of them and it had you wanting more.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Drew said, pulling away.

They stared longingly at each other before turning their attention back to you. “Tonight’s about all of us baby, we’re gonna make you feel so good,” Nicholas smirked.

He removed your dress and your lacy undergarments, leaving you bare as Drew kissed you all over, eventually settling on your neck and finding that sweet spot that made you squirm.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” Drew asked, catching Nicholas taking in your naked figure.

“So fucking beautiful, she’s a masterpiece,” he replied.

They removed each other’s clothes, their eyes never leaving each other and you wondered when the dam would break between them. After, their attention was back on you with Nicholas spreading your legs on the bed and Drew hovering over your face, his cock hard and leaking with pre cum.

“I’m gonna make you feel good and you’re gonna make him feel good, is that a good deal baby?” Nicholas inquired. You nodded desperately, the dynamic between you leaving you aching.

Your mouth fell open and Drew took the opportunity to slide his cock inside as Nicholas’ tongue ravaged your pussy. You could barely focus on the cock fucking your mouth as Nicholas sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue, sending shivers all throughout your body. His tongue focused on your clit as he slipped a finger in your sopping cunt, curling it and immediately finding your g spot. You moaned around Drew’s cock, swirling your tongue and taking him as deep in your throat as you could without gagging.

“Fuck,” Drew moaned, “you fucking like that pretty girl? You like having another man’s mouth on your pussy and my big cock in your mouth?”

You tried answering, forgetting he was practically in your throat and he let out a chuckle, thrusting his hips at a steady pace. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth baby.”

Your legs began to shake as you could feel your orgasm approaching. Nicholas slipped a second finger and he engulfed his mouth on your clit, you felt like you were about to explode at any moment.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me, cum for us,” Nicholas demanded, a dark glint in his eye as you looked down. Hearing the demand that you were to cum for the two men that you were insanely attracted to sent you over the edge, you moaned around Drew’s cock and his cum immediately spurted down your throat as your orgasm washed over you all over Nicholas�� mouth. Their moans filled the room before yours finally subsided as Nicholas’ tongue left your pussy.

“Wanna taste our girl?” he asked Drew. He nodded and with a smirk, Nicholas pulled him in, their lips connecting in a sloppy kiss and their tongues fighting for dominance. The scene before you was so erotic, all that was in your head was to have them do that as they were deep inside your holes. You needed them both.

“That’s so fucking hot,” you panted. Your pussy wet from the ordeal, “and now I need you both inside me, we can take it slow and romantic another time, I just want you both to fill me up.”

Nicholas’ cock was rock hard hearing your plea. Though he wanted to cum in your mouth, doing it inside you for the first time seemed more fitting and Drew agreed.

“You can get her pussy tonight, it’s yours now too, isn’t that right baby?” Drew asked, looking at you, his hands slowly pumping his thick cock.

“Yes sir,” you giggled, his words making you swoon.

Drew positioned himself under you, your body weight lying on top of him as his cock was pressed against your puckered hole. Nicholas stood in front of you slapping his heavy cock on your clit making you moan his name. He spat on Drew’s cock to lubricate it so he could enter your ass easier though this was not your first rodeo with Drew. He had a few kinks, something that Nicholas would soon discover.

They both positioned themselves at your entrances, you were about to be penetrated by two greek gods—at the same time.

“You ready baby?” Drew asked.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Nicholas followed up after.

“Shut up and fuck me, both of you,” you begged and your answer was enough.

Simultaneously, their cocks slowly penetrated you, the feeling of being full getting closer and closer.

“Fuck,” you all moaned in unison, the feeling was heaven. You were heaven.

“This ass is so fucking tight,” Drew moaned, steadily rutting into you.

“So is her pussy, fucking wet too,” Nicholas said, his hands moving to fondle your breasts.

The pressure of being filled on both ends left you breathless, every inch of your body trembling from the overwhelming intensity. Nicholas was deep in your wet pussy, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rocked against you, his movements powerful and unrelenting. Under you, Drew’s deep thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you closer to the brink.

“You’re taking us so well,” Nicholas murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips brushed against your ear.

Drew groaned from behind you, his hand trailing up your back as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels too good, doesn’t it? We’re not gonna stop until you can’t take anymore.”

You could feel both of them stretching you, their rhythm perfectly in sync, making you feel impossibly full. Every time Drew pushed in deeper from behind, Nicholas would thrust forward, their bodies meeting yours in perfect harmony. Your breath hitched with every movement, a moan escaping your lips as the sensation built.

“God, I can feel you squeezing us both,” Nicholas grunted, his hand sliding up your side, gripping you harder. “You like being ours, don’t you?”

Your fingers dug into Nicholas’s back as you tried to ground yourself, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely surrounded, their bodies pressing into yours, both of them taking you at once. The fullness was almost too much, but in the best way, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Drew’s voice rumbled behind you, low and full of need. “Just let go, baby. We’ve got you.”

Immediately, you convulsed underneath them, a primal moan in response to their filthy words and having their cocks buried deep inside you, you felt like you were on top of the world, having your vision blur and stars filling your head as the feeling of ecstasy overtook you.

After everything built up to a crescendo, your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations that swept through you. Your heart was still racing, breath shallow, as you lay back on Drew, feeling utterly spent. The warmth of Drew and Nicholas surrounding you only heightened the lingering aftershocks that pulsed through your limbs.

You felt so full, emotionally, physically, and mentally—like the weight of everything that had been brewing between the three of you had finally crashed over, leaving nothing but satisfaction in its wake. Your body ached in the best way, as though you’d been completely claimed by them, both in the way they touched you and the way they looked at you.

As they both reached their peak, it felt like the tension that had once existed between Drew and Nicholas dissolved completely, replaced with a sense of unity neither of them had anticipated. There was no longer a struggle over who you belonged to, it was a quiet, unspoken understanding that you were theirs, together, and they could share you in ways that felt right for all of you.

The warmth of their release spread inside your pussy and your ass, leaving you feeling impossibly full, every inch of you claimed in the most intimate way. Drew’s hand intertwined with Nicholas’ as they both caught their breath, chests rising.

The soft, lingering kisses that Nicholas pressed against your shoulder, combined with the feel of Drew’s fingers gently stroking your side, made you melt even further into the moment. It wasn’t just the physical release, it was the unspoken bond that had formed between the three of you, deeper than anything you’d experienced before.

Drew leaned in to kiss Nicholas, the once unexpected passion now flowing naturally between them. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your hand instinctively running down Nicholas' back, feeling the warmth of his skin as their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss. The heat of their connection sent a shiver through you, making the afterglow even more intoxicating.

Nicholas broke the kiss, breathless, turning to meet your gaze, his eyes softening. “I never knew it could be like this,” he whispered, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. Drew followed, brushing a hand along your cheek as he nodded in agreement.

“We're all together now,” Drew murmured, his voice a quiet promise, before the three of you shifted, curling up together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against yours as they cuddled you between them, the moment filled with intimacy, not just passion.

Nicholas gently rubbed your shoulder as Drew wiped a cool cloth over your skin, cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. “You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel the weight of their attention, not just on your body but on the connection you all shared.

When they finished cleaning you, they turned to each other. Drew smirked, grabbing the cloth and running it teasingly over Nicholas’ chest. “Your turn,” he grinned, the air between them still charged but with a sweetness that hadn’t been there before.

Nicholas laughed, leaning into Drew’s touch. "Alright, alright,” he playfully relented, allowing Drew to clean him up before returning the favor.

Afterward, they both wrapped their arms around you again, the three of you sinking into the bed, completely content. You felt the lingering warmth of their presence, not just in your body but in the calm, comfortable silence that followed.

“We’re not letting you go,” Drew whispered, his hand stroking your hair gently.

Nicholas pressed another soft kiss to your neck, “Not now, not ever.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh as your mind swam in the aftermath, your body feeling weightless and warm, cocooned in their presence. Full, cherished, completely theirs—and nothing else mattered.

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sofiatarot · 6 months ago

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Pick a card: Messages from loved ones watching over you

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1->2

3->4

Not long ago, I lost someone I loved deeply... someone who had been with me for many years. When their spirit decided to leave their body, I was devastated, desperate to hear something from them. I missed them so much and searched for comfort, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Nothing felt like them.

It was then, in the midst of the storm, that I decided to quiet myself, to stay still and listen to my own intuition. Using the cards as a tool, a guide, I was able to connect with the love I had been yearning for and more grateful than ever, I decided to try and share this little piece of heaven I had accessed.

When I connected with them, I thought about others who, like me, feel they lack closure and are left with their hearts in their hands and so much love to give.

To anyone who needs it, as much as I did back then, here it is: messages from a loved one who has passed away.

With all the respect and love in the world, I hope you know that you are not, and will never be, alone.

Now, take a moment to just breathe, ground yourself, connect to your intuition and choose the group that draws you in the most.

Group 1

Your loved one speaks to the uncertainty you've been feeling lately. They see the fear that clouds your path and the questions you hesitate to ask yourself. Their message is this: trust your inner wisdom. You’ve always had the answers within, even if they feel obscured by doubt. There’s a quiet strength in stepping away from situations that no longer serve you, even if it feels like leaving behind a part of yourself.

This soul was someone wise in life, perhaps introspective or spiritual, and they want you to know that moments of confusion and hesitation are natural. They encourage you to embrace the unknown, as clarity comes not from rushing forward but from allowing the truth to reveal itself in time. Don’t fear the fog—it’s temporary.

They see the decisions you’re grappling with and urge you not to overthink. Choices made from the heart will always guide you to the right path. You may feel pulled in multiple directions, but balance is key. Release the fear of failure; every twist of fate is a lesson in disguise.

This soul wants to remind you that you’re not walking this journey alone. They’ve seen the moments where you felt stuck, as though life was spinning out of your control. Even in those times, they were quietly supporting you, nudging you toward growth. You are more adaptable than you give yourself credit for.

They encourage you to release the need for perfection. Allow yourself to take bold steps without fearing judgment. You’ve been watching and waiting for the right moment, but sometimes action is the only way forward. They promise that courage will lead to clarity.

Above all, they want you to know that peace is within reach. They send you love and patience as you navigate this period. Trust that the tides will turn in your favor, and know they are proud of your strength and resilience.

Group 2

Your loved one sees the challenges you’ve faced in maintaining harmony with those around you. They know you’ve been giving much of yourself, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Their message is simple: give as much love and care to yourself as you give to others. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

This soul had a steady, grounded energy in life. They might have been someone you relied on for wisdom or practicality. They encourage you to find a balance between giving and receiving. It’s okay to ask for help or to say no when your energy feels depleted. They remind you that boundaries are not barriers—they are acts of self-love.

You may feel stuck, as though a new beginning keeps slipping from your grasp. They urge you to release the frustration and surrender to the timing of the universe. Sometimes, the things we want most require patience. Trust that your path is unfolding as it should.

This soul has noticed your efforts to resolve conflict, whether internally or with others. They see the peace you’re trying to create and applaud your willingness to choose understanding over anger. Keep trusting in the power of compassion—it will lead you to lighter days.

They also ask you to let go of perfectionism. There’s no need to carry the weight of comparison or feel like you’re falling behind. You are exactly where you’re meant to be. Focus on the small steps and celebrate every victory, no matter how small.

Finally, they want you to know that they’re proud of the person you’re becoming. They see the strength it takes to keep going, even when the road feels uphill. You are never alone; their energy is with you every step of the way.

Group 3

Your loved one acknowledges the emotional turmoil you’ve been navigating. They know you’ve been questioning your choices, especially in matters of the heart. Their message is this: be kind to yourself. You’re learning, and every step you take—no matter how uncertain—is leading you toward a deeper understanding of yourself.

This soul feels like someone passionate and bold, someone who wasn’t afraid to live fully. They want you to embrace that same boldness. Don’t let fear of judgment or failure keep you from pursuing what sets your soul on fire. You have so much potential waiting to be unleashed.

They see the moments when you’ve felt trapped, whether by your own expectations or by the opinions of others. You have the power to break free, but it starts with letting go of the need for external validation. Trust your intuition and take control of your destiny.

This soul knows you’ve been carrying old wounds, especially from relationships. They urge you to forgive—not for the sake of others, but for your own healing. You deserve to move forward without the weight of the past holding you down.

They remind you to nurture yourself. You’ve been giving so much energy to growth and transformation, but don’t forget to rest. Balance is essential, and true change comes when you honor both your light and shadow.

Above all, they want you to know that you’re loved—by them, by the universe, and by those around you. Your journey is far from over, and they’re excited to see the incredible things you will create.

Group 4

Your loved one sees the loneliness you’ve been feeling, even when surrounded by others. Their message is this: you are never truly alone. They are with you in the quiet moments, in the small signs you notice—a song, a scent, a memory. Trust that their love remains with you, even if you can’t see them.

This soul feels like someone joyful and warm, someone who brought laughter and light to those around them. They want you to reconnect with your inner joy. Life doesn’t have to be so serious—let yourself celebrate the little things and find beauty in the everyday.

They see the walls you’ve been building around your heart, out of fear of being hurt again. They urge you to let those walls down, even if just a little. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s where true connection begins. You have so much love to give, and the right people will cherish it.

This soul knows you’ve been feeling stuck, as though your plans aren’t coming together the way you hoped. They encourage you to trust in divine timing. The delays you’re experiencing are not failures—they’re redirections toward something even better.

They also remind you to lean on your community. You don’t have to face everything on your own. There are people who want to support you, but you need to let them in. Don’t be afraid to ask for help... it’s a sign of strength, not weakness.

Finally, they want you to remember that life is a journey, not a race. Be gentle with yourself and take things one step at a time. They’re cheering you on from the other side, proud of every bit of progress you’ve made.

thank you, xoxo 💖

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b1eedthefreak · 29 days ago

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hi im super duper shy and it’s 100% okay if u dont wanna but lowk is it okay if you make a short daryl dixon fic and reader is humping his biceps and being talked thru it like GAWDDAMNNNNN like who doesnt want his sexc biceps ok bai lauf ur fics 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Use You

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇essentially you’re just riding daryl’s biceps

warnings⌇smut, arm riding??? bicep riding what’s the difference

word count⌇0.6k

a/n⌇i think im starting to lose it but anyways i loved this request and i’m glad you were brave enough to send this anon! love his arms nom nom nom also as i’m writing his an i just realized i didn’t write the talking you through it part anon i’m so sorry plz feel free to send another request anyways i love ya bai

You don’t mean to start it. Not really.

Okay—maybe you do. A little.

You’d been watching him all day, the way his sleeves bunched around those arms, sweat gleaming in the dips of his muscle, and every time he lifted something—God. You could’ve cried. He knew the way your eyes dragged, how you bit your lip every time he stretched. He’d mutter a, “Quit starin’.” but he never actually told you to stop.

So now you’re sitting on your shared bed, somewhere between wound up and unwell, watching as Daryl peels off his overshirt with a grunt. .

“Can I…” you start, your voice quiet, “Can I use your arm?”

He freezes mid-movement, turns to you slow with one brow raised. “Use it?”

Your cheeks burn. Your thighs clench. “Like. Your bicep. Just for a second. I promise I won’t—uh, never mind.”

Daryl just stares. Blinks. Then his mouth curls into the most sinful half-smirk you’ve ever seen.

“Ain’t never heard that one before,” he mutters, voice thick with disbelief—and maybe curiosity. “Y’wanna rub up on my arm?”

You nod. Quiet. Desperate.

He stared at the floor for a second, breathing slow. Then he sat down on the cot, resting his arm across his lap. Bicep angled up. He didn’t look at you, just mumbled:

“C’mere, then. ‘Fore I change my damn mind.”

You climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, your panties already damp. He didn’t move, didn’t talk—just tensed his arm a little when your thighs bracketed it. The hard curve of his muscle met your soaked heat perfectly. You whimpered.

“Daryl flinched. “Shit. You really—? Jesus.”

You started moving. Soft, slow grinds. Nothing dramatic, just slick fabric dragging against thick muscle while his body sat tense and frozen.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “You don’t have to do anything—just let me—”

The first grind makes you gasp—his bicep thick and firm between your legs, pressing up perfectly into the throbbing mess of your cunt.

You moaned when he flexed beneath you—unintentionally or not, it made your hips buck. Your clit throbbed against the pressure. It was too good. Too much.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, hips stuttering.

Daryl’s hands gripped your waist before he even realized he was touching you. His voice was ragged. “You’re… leakin’ through. So fuckin’ wet. That all for me?”

Daryl groans low. “Shit. That feel good, baby?”

You nod frantically. Didn’t even try to hide your whimper, rocking harder now—dragging your soaked core over that thick swell of muscle, your arousal soaking through the fabric. His bicep flexes beneath you. On purpose this time.

You moan.

“Y’like that?” he mutters, mouth against your neck. “Jus’ rubbin’ yourself on me?”

Your hips roll. Hump. Grind. You’re practically dripping, rubbing yourself raw on the edge of release, gasping every time he tenses just to make it worse.

“You gonna make a mess on me?” he growls. “That what y’want? Gonna soak my fuckin’ arm, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes—please—”

“Dirty lil’ thing ain’t ya baby?” he murmurs. “Get it hen. Get off on me. Use me.”

You do. You can’t stop. You’re moaning his name, shaking, thighs clenching tight around his arm as you chase that high, so wet and desperate it’s obscene.

And when you came, you shattered. Hips jerking, breath caught in your throat, Daryl murmuring “That’s it, baby, let go for me” while you grind out every last wave of it.

You collapse forward, panting, still trembling.

He licked his lips. “Didn’t know I could do that for ya.”

You’re breathless. “Your arms are—wow.”

His smirk grows. “Good thing y’ain’t seen what else I can do with ‘em.”

daryl i’m ready to see what else you can do with em lmk call me

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagines #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

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thewickedjazzy · 10 months ago

Text

Level 2: Slow Burn [Shotgunning] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Chuuya Nakahara x afab! Reader

Synopsis : sweet chuu has been secretly dying to try shotgunning with you, and tonight, the ginger finally snaps—ensuring you a good time.

Warnings: nsfw mdni, soft!chuuya, obv. shotgunning/sharing smoke, oral sex (giving and receiving), pussy drunk!chuuya, cum eating, suggestive themes, smoking, light bdsm (blindfold), sensual touches, consent.

Word count: 2.5k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

it was one of your usual quiet evenings, wrapped in the warm glow of a flickering candle on the table. you sit comfortably, your legs tucked beneath you as you thumb through the pages of your favourite book, utterly absorbed. a glass of red wine sits within arm’s reach, half-full, forgotten for now as you sink deeper into the story.

across from you, your boyfriend sits with a poetry book in his lap. he’s been reading—or at least pretending to.

of course, you notice he hasn’t turned a page in a while. you glance up, catching his eyes on you—no, not just on you, but on your lips. he quickly looks away, pretending to read, but the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. you’ve seen that look before. he’s been distracted for days, something swirling behind those deep, pretty azure eyes of his, but he hasn’t voiced it yet.

you shift slightly, the sound of fabric rustling pulling his eyes back to you. when you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table and slide one between your lips, it’s the last straw. he watches, almost in a trance, as you strike the lighter. the flame flickers briefly before the tip of the cigarette burns red, and you take a slow drag. the way your delicious lips cradle the slim cigarette, the lazy curl of smoke that escapes your mouth, clings to your lips like the embrace of shadowy lovers—he tries to shift his attention to the book on his lap but can’t take it anymore.

“baby, what’s up? i know when you’re too lost, thinking about something,” you say softly, pulling him from his thoughts. he looks up, and this time, he doesn’t bother hiding the way his gaze lingers on your lips, watching the way the smoke dances around them.

he sighs, setting his book aside and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “doll... there’s something i’ve been wanting to try with you,” he murmurs, his voice so beautifully soft. “but i... wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

you smile, intrigued, of course. it's not like every day you see chuuya this reluctant. it isn’t like him to be shy about anything with you, but the subtle blush colouring his cheeks and the way he murmurs "doll" sends a shiver throughout your entire body, making your heart lowkey skip a beat. “mhm? tell me,” you coax softly, the cigarette balanced delicately between your fingers as you take another slow drag, eyes never leaving his.

he hesitates for just a moment longer, eyes locked on your lips. “have ya ever heard of...uh.. shotgunning?”

your smile widens, heart fluttering at the way he bites his lip and looks away, his pale features now painted a deep red hue. chuuya is so often confident, but in moments like this, he shows a softer side only you are allowed to see. “i've heard of it... why? you... wanna try it?” you purr softly, leaning forward.

he gives a slow nod, and you notice his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “yeah... but only if you're comfortable with it.”

you chuckle softly, finding his bashfulness endearing. “chuu, baby” you say, warmth lacing your words as you put out the cigarette. “you know that i trust you.”

“good, then... trust me on this.” he stands and heads to the bedroom, disappearing for a moment before returning with a silk burgundy blindfold in hand. settling back down across from you on the couch, he meets your gaze with underlying excitement, shimmering in his azure eyes, the blindfold draped loosely between his fingers.

your breath catches slightly as you see the blindfold, excitement curling in your belly. he’s never done something like this before, but you’re already intrigued. “what are you planning, chuu?” you giggle softly.

he leans in close, his breath brushing against your lips. “i want you to feel everything... without sight. let me take the lead, doll. i promise you’ll like it.”

your pulse quickens as you nod, lips parting slightly in anticipation.

his bare, slender fingers graze your cheek as he carefully ties the blindfold around your eyes. the world around you fades to darkness, heightening your other senses, god, you never thought something like this could feel this good. the way you can hear his soft breathing, the rustle of his clothes, and definitely feel the heat radiating off him as he inches closer—it’s like multiplying bliss by infinity and getting bonus points for it.

“relax f’me, baby,” his raspy low voice makes your heart skip a beat. you take a deep breath, your body already responding to his soothing tone.

you feel the soft brush of his lips against your temple, the barest touch of his fingers on your jaw as he tilts your chin up slightly. “yeahh.. you look s'pretty like this, doll,” he murmurs, his words wrapping around you like a caress. “just focus on me, yeah?”

you nod again, and you can hear the faint click of his lighter as he takes a drag from his cigarette. the next moment, his hand is back on your jaw, guiding you closer to him.

“breathe with me, doll” he whispers against your lips.

you part your lips, waiting for the sensation. and then, it hits you as he exhales, the hot smoke flowing from his mouth to yours. the warmth of his breath, the taste of the smoke and the closeness of his body—it’s all so intoxicating, so overwhelming. you inhale deeply, taking in the smoke and the sensation of his lips hovering so close to yours, but not even touching, it's quite torturous in a good way.

you can barely stand it—the taste of him mingles with the smoke, the sweet faint smell of his perfume, the closeness, the way his fingers trace the line of your cheekbone—it’s all too much, in the best possible way. your belly tingles with the sensation, every nerve alive under his touch.

“shit… umh,” he curses softly against your lips, his warm breath grazing your lower lip as he exhales, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. he closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the feel of you. he's on cloud nine, his mind short-circuiting from the way you trust him so completely, surrendering every inch of yourself to him—it’s too much. “i’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

you let out a breathless chuckle, your breath shaky as you brush your lips against his, barely touching but enough to make his cock harden beneath his boxers. “then don’t stop,” you breathe, your words almost lost in the quiet of the room—he doesn't need to be told twice.

he takes another slow drag, this time letting the smoke linger in his lungs before leaning in again. soft pink lips graze yours, just the faintest touch as he exhales into your mouth once more, the smoke curling around your tongue. the gesture, so tender yet so intimate, sends a wave of heat rushing through you. your fingers slip under the choker around his neck, tugging him closer, needing to anchor yourself in the moment.

and just then, you feel his delicious lips finally press against yours, the taste of smoke still lingering on both your tongues. you feel his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as you gasp for air.

the cigarette lies forgotten in the ashtray, its smoke fading into the background as you lose yourself in the taste of his lips.

he groans softly as your body presses against his, pulling away, his lips ghosts over your cheek, pressing soft, intimate kisses before trailing down to your jaw and then the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “god... ngh, you’ve got no idea how fucking good you feel...” he murmurs, “...I need you, s'much.”

your fingers tangle in his soft ginger hair, giving a gentle tug, not being able to see makes you even more sensitive to every breathless word he whispers. he pulls back just enough to take in the sight of you, admiring how gorgeous you look with your lips parted, breath coming in soft, needy gasps.

he then stands up, towering over you as you sit obediently on the couch, still blindfolded. the room is silent for a moment, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, until you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt buckle coming undone. the soft clink of metal makes your mouth water, pleasure building with every passing second. you bite your lower lip, licking it delightfully, knowing exactly what's about to come.

you feel the soft pad of his thumb brush against your lower lip. instinctively, you open your mouth, letting him slide it inside. you suck on it seductively, swirling your tongue around his finger, drawing a deep, throaty groan from him.

he pulls his thumb from your mouth slowly, the wetness lingering on your lips as you wait for him impatiently.

the next moment, you feel the weight of his cock pressing against your lips, the soft, swollen tip brushing against them. without hesitation, you open your mouth wider, welcoming him in, and slide your lips down his length. the feeling of his girthy cock filling your mouth, warm and heavy, makes your cunt drip with pleasure. You take him in deeper, swallowing him whole until your lips meet the base of his cock, your throat tightening around him.

“haah..ffuck,” he drawls, his hand moving to the back of your head, gripping your hair gently as he throws his head back, lost in the sensation—no matter how turned on he is, chuuya is always gentle with you. he’s never the type to push your head down—he always makes sure you're comfortable, no matter what.

you feel the way his hips twitch as you take him deeper, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, but the moment he hears you gag, he pulls away, “doll, you okay?”

you nod in response, and immediately take him back into your mouth, allowing him to slide deeper once more.

“haahh, so greedy f’me? mmnnghh”

you hollow your cheeks and move your mouth over him, sucking him with deliberate strokes. the wet sounds blending with his soft whimpers and mewls fill the room as you work him with your mouth. every time you take him in balls-deep, you can feel his cock twitching against your throat. you work your tongue around that sensitive spot just below his tip and precum oozes out, coating your tongue as you savor his taste

“yes fuck nngh, lookin’ ...haah s’fuckin’ pretty like that, baby...ffuckk,” he gasps, bucking his hips forward against your mouth. the sight of you—blindfolded, taking him so greedily—pushes him closer to the edge. his grip on your hair tightens a bit as he fights to maintain control, but the way your tongue swirls around him, the way your mouth swallows him whole has him thinking that he may just cum from feeling your warm mouth around him.

you hum around his cock, sending vibrations through his entire body, and he swears under his breath, his hips picking up the pace slightly. he’s lost in the pleasure, in the sight of you so lecherously sucking him like your life depends on it, and he knows he won’t last much longer like this.

but just as he nears his peak, he pulls out of your mouth, a shaky chuckle escaping his lips as he sees your pouting frustration. “..c’mon baby, i’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs.

removing your blindfold with a tender touch, his eyes eager to drink in the sight of how fucked out you're going to be in a few minutes, “mhm, yes, lemme see those pretty eyes of yours.”

he then kneels in front of you, easing down your soft panties and gently placing your legs over his shoulders as you recline against the couch.

reaching for the cigarette still burning in the ashtray, he takes a slow drag before exhaling the smoke directly onto your gooey cunt.

“hahh- chuu” you mewl, the sensation of the hot smoke against your sensitive skin leaves you breathless, your body frozen in place as you experience one of the most intense pleasures you’ve ever felt.

he takes another drag, letting the smoky haze drift over your swollen lips before putting out the cigarette in the nearby ashtray. he lets out a shaky groan, watching you drip faster than ever, clenching around nothing.

he showers your inner thighs with hot open-mouthed kisses, each kiss eliciting soft, pleading mewls from your glossed lips. “you like that doll? hmm? lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.” he hums against your thighs, totally focused on blowing your mind with ecstasy.

“..yess..s’much mmph”

with a hungry growl, he finally delves into your cunt, kneading your soft thighs as his tongue drags and explores your wet folds opening them only to plunge his hot tongue inside earning a lewd moan from you, he swirls his tongue around your now swollen clit before dragging a flat strip along your inner folds, completely pussydrunk.

deep blue eyes that you grew to adore, never leave yours as he groans against your cunt sending waves of sparks dancing behind your eyes.

your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hands gripping the couch beneath you as you struggle to voice anything except moans and mewls, “y-yes... chuu i'm clo- ahhh mnghh” you gasp, but your voice falters as his tongue alternates between licking your clit in circular motions and diving into your drooling cunt as if stopping would cost him his life.

you roll your hips against his mouth feeling that familiar heat ignite in your belly, sweating from how long he's been eating you out hungrily, you finally reach your peak, gushing all over his tongue as he hums in satisfaction licking up every drop of you with eager licks.

“hnngh fuck..doll... this may be the hottest shit we've ever done,” he drawls, his eyes locked on you as you pant and giggle, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks with your hands. he brushes your hands aside gently and leans in, kissing you passionately once again, tasting yourself on his tongue makes your heart flutter.

“uhh...will you help me out a bit?” he pulls away muttering, your eyes widen as you see how hard he is now, precum glistening at his flushed tip, veins pulsating, apparently he's been edging himself on purpose.

and of course, you’re more than willing to do so. this man never fails to satisfy you, always putting your pleasure above his own. despite his fearsome reputation as a mafia executive, with you, he’s nothing but the sweetest, most tender, and caring boyfriend imaginable.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetfruity @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing

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wingedhallows · 3 months ago

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hi ! you asked me to send you my request here (i hope this is working though, i'm still trying to figure out how the app works...) so that you don't forget about it, so here it is again :

just noticed you wanted us to send you asks so here i am :) unfortunately, i don't have any great inspiration to share with you at the moment… anything with vi or ellie williams (my girlsss) is always nice to see. but other than that, completing basketball!vi x ballerina!reader would be super cool, if it's something you'd be happy to do, of course ! (yup, i'm still obsessed with that one…)

bye 🫶 have a great day !

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 loser!ellie x reader / 1.2 k words ♒︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 HI !! I'm totally working on 'labyrinth love' right now, maybe i'll drop the last part tonight! this is a little something that's been sitting in my drafts & i think you'll like it (hopefully) so, here u go!!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You’re all crammed into Dina’s apartment—some shitty couch, a couple floor cushions, an overturned laundry basket being used as a table.

Music low, drinks half-finished, someone’s passed out in the corner with a blanket that definitely smells like weed and regret.

And Ellie? Ellie’s on the floor, back against your knees, launching into the most insane rant you’ve ever heard.

“…I’m just saying,” she says, hand flailing with a cheeto between her fingers, “If birds wanted to be evil, they totally could. Like, they’ve got flight and hollow bones and talons. You ever seen a goose, man? Those things are demonic.”

The room is silent for half a beat.

“Anyway,” she adds, like she’s just delivered a TED Talk, “that’s why I never trust anything with wings and an attitude.”

Jesse blinks slowly. “Dude, what the fuck?”

But you?

You’re grinning. Fingers carding through Ellie’s hair absently, like you love hearing her unhinged theories about avian world domination. You lean down a little and whisper near her ear, “so… if I wore wings, would you be scared of me?”

Ellie’s neck goes red in an instant. “What—no—wait—maybe? I mean, not in a bad way! Like, in a cool, terrifying, kinda hot way—”

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse mutters. “She’s in love.”

“She’s doomed,” Dina adds, sipping from her beer.

But Ellie’s barely listening—because she’s twisted halfway around to look up at you, and you’re still smiling at her, still stroking her hair, still looking at her like she’s the smartest, funniest person alive.

And she’s melting.

“You’re, like…” she breathes, squinting. “Really pretty.”

You blink, caught off guard for half a second.

“…Thanks, babe.”

“No, like. Really. It’s a problem. You’re smiling at me and I forget how words work. And my brain just goes: pretty. smile. girlfriend. And then there’s just static up here.”

She taps her forehead with two fingers, completely serious.

And you just laugh—soft and sweet—and lean down to press a kiss to her temple.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD,” Jesse groans, falling back on the couch like he’s been shot. “How the hell did Ellie pull her?”

“I feel like I’m watching a golden retriever date a goddess,” Dina mutters. “It’s disturbing.”

Ellie turns scarlet, burying her face in your thigh. “Don’t listen to them,” she mumbles. “They’re just jealous.”

You smile down at her, hand curling under her chin to tilt her up again.

“I think you’re perfect.”

Ellie malfunctions. Fully. Stares at you with big, round eyes like you just offered to marry her on the spot.

She mouths perfect? like she’s never heard the word before.

And all you do is nod.

Because you mean it.

Ellie’s still staring up at you, stunned, her face half-buried in your thigh. Everyone else has moved on to another round of some dumb card game Jesse’s pitching, but she’s still stock-still.

You called her perfect.

Her. Ellie “accidentally-walked-into-the-wrong-classroom-and-sat-there-for-40-minutes” Williams. Ellie who once used a sock to hold her blunt ‘cause she lost her lighter and burned her thumb last time. Perfect.

“You good, babe?” you murmur, hand gently brushing her cheek.

She blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m chill. Totally chill. Just, y’know, experiencing a full emotional reboot. It’s fine.”

You giggle and press another kiss to the top of her head, and she whines softly into your leg like she can’t handle the affection.

Eventually, someone mentions it’s past one, and the room starts to empty out. You tug Ellie up by her hoodie strings, and she stands like she’s been resurrected, slinging her bag over her shoulder and mumbling something about “walking you back.”

Outside, it’s cool and quiet. The kind of early campus stillness where every window glows soft yellow and the street lamps flicker like they’re just as tired as the students.

You lace your fingers through hers, and she tenses for half a second before relaxing—then squeezing back.

She glances sideways at you. “So. Uh. I meant to ask. That thing you said back there—was that, like, real? Or were you just saying it ‘cause I said your smile makes my brain explode?”

You stop walking and tug her back a little, fingers still locked. “You mean the perfect thing?”

Her whole face goes red again. “That’s the one.”

You shrug, playful. “Guess you’ll have to get used to hearing it.”

She stares. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re actually gonna kill me. Death by girlfriend compliment. Local lesbian found deceased on sorority row sidewalk.”

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” she says immediately, too fast, too much. And then realizes, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, ignore that, that was—that slipped out, I didn’t mean to—well I did, but I didn’t mean to say it, not like that, I was gonna wait ‘til, like, Valentine’s Day or a meteor shower or something cool—”

You stop her with a kiss. Gentle. Quick. Just enough to make her forget what planet she’s on.

When you pull back, she’s blinking, dazed. “…was that a good kiss or a ‘shut up, loser’ kiss?”

You smile. “Both.”

She huffs. “Rude.”

But you’re smiling at her with that look again—the one that says she’s yours, chaos and all—and she leans in close, bumping her forehead to yours.

“I meant it,” she mumbles. “Even if it was an accidental I-love-you. I do.”

You tilt your head, whisper back, “Me too.”

Ellie practically floats the rest of the way to your dorm. You part with another kiss, and she’s halfway down the hall before she turns around, walking backward and beaming.

“You still think I’m perfect?”

You laugh. “I think you’re mine.”

And that’s all it takes. Ellie bolts out of sight before you see the way she pumps her fist in the air, quietly muttering, “holy shit, holy shit, I have the best girlfriend on earth.”

She’s standing in the middle of her room. Hoodie still half-on, phone gripped like it’s both her lifeline and her greatest threat.

Her cat’s staring up at her from the bed, judgmental as hell.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters, flopping onto the mattress. “You didn’t see her. She said I’m hers. I had no choice but to fall apart.”

The cat blinks.

Ellie’s phone buzzes.

[You]: made it back okay? [You]: you looked like you were floating

She groans, punches her pillow a little, and then types back:

[Ellie]: i was not floating [Ellie]: i am very grounded. like a normal person. a grounded, non-floating person who is extremely chill and not thinking about your lips at all.

Immediate regret.

She throws the phone face down on the bed.

The cat meows. “I panicked, okay?”

Buzz.

[You]: you’re so dumb. i’m smiling so hard it hurts [You]: love you, loser. goodnight.

Ellie clutches her phone to her chest and lets out a long, dreamy “fuck.”

Then she whispers it again, grinning “She loves me.”

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #loser!ellie #loser!ellie x reader #tlou ellie #hallow!mail #hallow!requests #hallow!asks

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eddiesxangel · 10 months ago

Text

She Said Fuck Me Like I’m Famous (I Said Okay) | E.M

WC: 5.9k

Cw: fem!popstar!reader, modern au, fluff, smut, dirty talk, kinda Dom Eddie, oral (m & f), p in v, reader is on bc, creampies.

Summary: when you invite your online bestie over to spend the week with you for the first time, you don’t know what to expect when her over protective friends tag along

Meeting Robin was a happy accident that life sometimes throws at you. Even though she was a stranger on the other side of the country, she was one of the most genuine friends you could have ever asked for. It all started slowly. You had both been on the same Discord server because of your mutual love for an author, and things went from there. After almost three years of friendship, you finally decided to meet in person!

You guys organized everything. She was flying to California and staying with you in your two-bedroom apartment for a little over a week. You had so much planned for the both of you, especially over the weekend, because it just so happened you were also to perform at this year’s Coachella.

It was your first big performance at a festival like this. It would do wonders for your career and hopefully bring you new fans.

Robin was your biggest supporter. She was so excited to see you perform live for the first time, not to mention the VIP passes you had promised her. It was hard to seek out genuine friendships in the line of work that you do. Everyone wants something, so you didn’t disclose your real name and what you did until you could trust her entirely. Robin was one of those people who you couldn't help but love; her bubbly personality and heart of gold were something you latched onto.

You were not taken aback upon receiving a text from Robin informing you that her two extremely protective male friends were adamant about accompanying her to ensure her safety. She had previously mentioned them, and from what she shared, they come across as genuinely great guys. Their concern for their friend's well-being is commendable, and you appreciate their commitment to looking out for her.

She also told you that the guys would rather stay in a hotel with her, but if they felt comfortable, they didn’t mind if she stayed with you for the rest of the week. You weren’t offended. It was unbelievable that you invited someone you’d never met into your home. Still, she was one of your closest confidants, even though you’ve never seen one another in person, primarily through texting and FaceTime.

The day was finally here, and you let Robin know that your assistant would pick the three of them up at the airport because you were in rehearsals until 2:00 p.m.

“See, Rob, this is exactly why we came with you!” Steve pointed at the text message as she read it out loud.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked with a scowl.

“She is sending a random person to pick us up? We are about to be human trafficked for all we know!”

Robin rolled her eyes and hiked up her carry-on over her shoulder.

“Men… so dramatic.” She whispered under her breath.

The three wandered down the corridor until they saw a small woman about 5'1" with a bright smile holding a sign that read ‘ Birdie + 2.’

That was cute; you used her Discord name.

“Oh, yes. Here is the woman who’s going to kidnap us,” she jesters, and the two men can’t help but roll their eyes.

“Hi! Are you Kelsey?” Robin approached the woman who she towered over.

“Yes, Hi! If you want to come with me, the car is waiting. She’s so excited you’re finally here; it’s all she’s been talking about.”

Kelsey opened the door for the three friends to get in and made her way to the driver’s seat.

It’s been a long wait, but your rehearsal wrapped up right on schedule. You made sure because you didn’t want to waste any time. You’ve been so antsy all day, waiting to go home and meet your best friend for the first time. You were so nervous; what if she thought you were annoying? What if the paparazzi ruined her time here? On your way home, the what-ifs circled your mind, but you tried to shake that all away when you got the text from Kelsey that they made it safely and were on their way to the hotel to drop off their things. Then she would bring them over to your apartment.

The minutes tick by as you wait for them in your apartment. You double-check the fridge to make sure you have refreshments and snacks. They must be tired and hungry from the flight.

Your manicured fingernails tap the cold marble countertop in your kitchen as you nervously scroll your phone, trying to distract yourself until the condo buzzer startles you. You run over and answer the speaker, telling them to come on up.

You anxiously count the seconds as you wait for them to approach the door. When the elevator bell dings on your floor, 17 stories up, you open the door eagerly to see Kelsey get off first.

You’re bouncing on your toes as you half-heartedly skip through the hallway, cheering as you see the freckled-faced girl enter the corridor.

“Birdie!” You clap, jump, and run to her with a smile so big your cheeks burn.

Cheers and squeals fill the small space as you take one another in your arms. If the people surrounding you had known better, your embrace would have made it look like you were lovers.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

"I can't believe you're real." You step back to look at her in full. Finally, after all this time, you are united with your bestie. You tell one another everything. Robin confided in you about how she likes girls, and you said you were so scared that you're not good enough to be here. The imposter syndrome was extreme, but she put your mind at ease.

One of the men behind Robin had cleared their throat, reminding the both of you that they were also there.

“Oh my god, sorry.” Robin jumps.

“This is Steve, and this is Eddie.” Robin steps out of your way, and your gaze falls on the two handsome men standing behind her. Your heart flutters a bit, taking in both of them.

Steve and Eddie were complete opposites in their style. Steve had a preppy look, with a soft smile and gentle, kind eyes that reflected his warm personality. In contrast, Eddie's style was edgy and tough, but his eyes were surprisingly kind and strikingly beautiful, hinting at a depth beyond his tough exterior.

“Hi, I’m y/n, but you can call me Bunnie.” You stuck out your hand to introduce yourself.

“Damn, kinda disappointed you’re real; I had 50 bucks going that you were catfishing Rob this whole time,” Steve giggled as you shook his hand.

“Shut up,” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Me? A catfish? Never,” you giggled.

You moved to Eddie, and he stood there wide-eyed as he tried to speak, say hello, hi, or something, but he felt like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. There was no way you were real. There's no way you were this pretty in real life. There was no way Robin was friends with a celebrity.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie had no idea who you were when Robin told him and Steve she was coming out to see you. However, Steve’s reaction made it seem like you were a big deal, so he googled you and looked at your Instagram beforehand. Never in his life did he see someone so beautiful. The attraction was instant, but now, seeing you in person, there was no denying his inevitable crush on you.

Eddie finally managed to choke out a “hi.” His cheeks heated up as his voice cracked like he was 12 again.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you smile but quickly turn to Robin.

“Come,” you say, linking your arm with hers as you return to your condo.

“Thanks for letting us tag along with Birdie here,” Steve smiled.

After the initial excitement, you had all settled down. You were lounging on your balcony, eating and drinking to your heart's content.

“No problem, the more the merrier,” you smile.

Robin had told you about her friends back home; you also felt like you strangely knew them.

“What do you guys want to do first? Eddie, any suggestions?” You ask, singling him out.

Eddie hardly knew what to say. It was as if his brain had stopped functioning when you spoke to him. He wanted to woo and get to know you and hoped and prayed that you were as good of a person as Robin raved you to be.

“W-what?" He stuttered and looked at you wide-eyed. "Uh, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?”

Without a beat, you rambled off the list of activities you had in mind, and Eddie listened so intently to everything; he would go anywhere as long as he was in your company.

“He, man, help me get some more drinks,” Steve said, nudging Eddie’s knee.

“No, please, you’re my guest. Allow me.” You got to stand, but Steve insists.

“Take advantage, let them dote on us.” Robin giggled.

“Dude, you’re really into her, aren’t you?” Steve smirked once the two men were back inside and out of earshot.

“How could I not be? Hello, she’s like the perfect woman,” Eddie half whispered.

Eddie took you in one more time through the sliding glass door. Not only was your style darker and edgy, but you’re witty and funny and don’t seem too vapid for a Hollywood star. He had a preconceived notion about Hollywood starlets; however, you seemed so down to earth, and you loved talking music with him; even if you are a pop star, you know your shit when it came to writing and playing guitar.

“You should ask her out this week and see what happens.”

“No, she’s not into me.”

“Maybe not yet? But how could she not be? You’re a catch. You gotta be yourself; you’re too in your head right now. Just think of her as an extension of Robin.”

“An extension of Robin?”

“They’re practically the same person; just don’t think about how hot she is.”

That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“How?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re King Steve, Steve 'the hair' Harrington, and you know how to flirt with girls.”

“So do you.”

“Not girls like that!” He points towards you and Robin, oblivious to the conversation, gabbing away about who knows what.

“You’re telling me that a girl who looks like that isn’t going to be attracted to a guy who looks like you? “ he raised a brow.

“I don’t know?” Eddie shrugged.

“Nah, dude, you’re being too hard on yourself. Listen to me, be yourself, and see what happens.”

“Okay,” he sighed, bringing the drinks out for you and Robin.

As the night wore on, Eddie became more confident speaking to you and less intimidated after the talk with Steve in the kitchen. When the night ended, you were all disappointed to say goodbye but excited about what tomorrow would bring.

The past few days have been absolutely hectic. Rehearsals for the upcoming show have consumed your mornings, followed by afternoons filled with various outings. It's a whirlwind from sound check to meeting up with your guests at their hotel or wherever they are.

Eddie’s crush was starting to take over his mind. Every night before he went to sleep, he thought about you and watched videos of you. He even went so far as to put your name on YouTube and “cute moments” afterwards.

Nothing could stop Eddie from getting you off his mind. He was so excited when you gave him your number, even if he was too nervous to text you. His excitement doubled when you followed him on Instagram, and he spastically went through all his posts to make sure nothing was embarrassing.

Today, you went to the beach. A relaxing day was much needed after your hectic schedule of rehearsals and entertaining your guests over the past few days.

You arrive to see your new friends secured a great spot by the water's edge. Robin is lying under the umbrella while the boys wrestle in the water.

“Is Eddie single?” you ask after settling down with Robin on the sand.

“The most chronically single person I’ve ever met; dude hasn’t been in a relationship since he confessed his love for a cheerleader in high school, and I wouldn’t even count that as a girlfriend.”

You stop and ponder this newfound information as you watch him from afar. As you observe him splashing around, you see him in a new light. He is lean but has some muscle. His various tattoos and how he looks in a bathing suit is giving you butterflies.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing is wrong with him; he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. The girls in our town aren’t into guys who look or act like Eddie. They’re all stuck up, snooty rich kids, you know? And Eddie has had it rough; he grew up on the poorer side of town and his parents. His uncle raised him, so everyone looked down at him.” Robin sighed, hating the way life had treated her friend.

“Trust me, I know about stuck-up assholes. I live in their capital.” You snort.

“So why are you asking about Ed? Any particular reason?” Robin peaks at you from under her sunglasses. ”

“He seems different from the guys in L. A” You twiddle with the strings on your bikini bottoms.

“Well, I know he has a big fat crush on you.”

“Really?” Your face lit up, giving away your motive for conversation.

“Seems like you do, too girl friend.” She nudged you, and you tried to hide your face under your beach towel.

“Ooooooooooo Bunnie has a crush on Eddie the Freak.” Robin teased.

“What did he do to earn that title?”

“There are many rumours; I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

Robins’s innuendo had you giggling so hard that you almost started crying.

You pulled Eddie’s attention when he heard your angelic laugh. Eddie stood distracted by watching you lay out with Robin, your tattoos on display, more than he had seen initially. Your teeny black-and-white bikini was a sight for soar eyes, being stuck with Steve all day and night. With the sudden distraction, Steve had the opportunity to body-slam Eddie into the ocean.

Eddie’s audible “oof” was heard, and before Eddie knew it, he was gasping for air. When he finally got his bearing straight, he saw you looking over, concerned at the two men, then gave a slight wave to ensure he was okay.

“Playtimes over, Harrington,” Eddie shoved Steve off of him.

“Oh, I think it’s just beginning for you, Munson.”

The two men exited the water looking too hot for their own good, like some personal Baywatch episode was coming at you in 3D.

“Like what you see?” Eddie smirked at you as they both approached the both of you.

“Absolutely.” You squint up at him, the sun catching your eyes.

Eddie plopped beside you and shook his head like a dog getting ocean water all over you.

You squeak at how cold the water is.

“Oh, sorry, Bunnie, let me get that for you.” He smirks.

He brushes the water from your face with his towel.

Oh, he knows what he is doing.

Your skin deceived you as the goosebumps arose when Eddie touched your face.

“You cold, Bunnie?” Eddie noticed and pulled you in with him as he wrapped his towel around the both of you. Your bare back pressing against his cold, damp chest wasn’t helping, but hell, you were not about to start complaining.

“Thanks”

Robin gives you a pointed look, then immediately grabs Steve’s hand to yank him up.

“Come, we are getting food.”

Steve leaves without protest, seeing what Robin sees- that you and Eddie should have some alone time.

“So a little Birdie told me you have a reputation back home.” You were leaning up against Eddie’s chest, basking in the sun.

“Oh, did she, now? And what might that be.”

“that you’re a little freaky,” you giggle.

“You sure you want to know about th-"

“Oh my god! It is you! Oh my god, I love you. Can I please get a picture with you?” A girl not much younger than yourself, clearly a fan of yours, looks down at you, and Eddie is cuddled up.

Without missing a beat, you get up and greet the fan.

“Can you take our picture?” She gives her phone to Eddie before he even agrees that he’s getting up to help.

You give him an apologetic look. This was not the kind of day he signed up for.

You pose with the fan and talk with her briefly before she asks, “ Is that your boyfriend?”

You look over your shoulder to see Eddie again sitting under the umbrella.

“No, no, he’s a friend,” you smile.

“Too bad, you guys would be a cute couple.”

You entertain her only a few more minutes before she leaves.

“Sorry about that.” You sit back down beside Eddie.

“That’s okay, I get it. You’re famous and all.” He smiles.

“I’m not that famous,” you sigh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”

“Well, maybe…” you shrug.

“You have strangers coming up to you complimenting your work; that’s sick as fuck if you ask me.”

“It's something I’ll never get used to.”

“Tell me more what it’s like?”

“What? Having a fan approach me?”

“Yea. I guess being a famous rockstar was all I ever dreamed of until a few years ago when I realized it wouldn’t be in the cards for me.

“What if it could be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a crazy idea.”

Pictures of you and a “Mystery guy” were planted all over the tabloids the following day. Of course, no one stopped to take a photo when it was just you and Robin or the four of you sitting on the beach.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my crazy.” You apologized while you were all out to dinner. Eddie was sat directly beside you.

“I think I like crazy,” he smirked and gently touched your knee.

You tried to hide your bashful smile while playing with the stem of your martini glass.

Robin and Steve instantly locked in on the chemistry between you. They tried to look at one another subtly, but you caught it.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Robin laughs, but Steve isn’t shy about the topic.

“You guys are cute,” he smirks into the glass before sipping the golden bubbly liquid.

“Steve!” You squeak.

“I agree,” Robin concurred.

You wanted to agree with them, but you hardly knew Eddie, but you yearned to know everything about him. The more time you spend with this group, the more you don’t want them to leave. You can’t imagine how it will be once they go home next week. You would kill for them to spend more time with, especially Robin and your newfound crush, Eddie.

As the sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Coachella stage, you feel the nervous excitement building inside you. In just five minutes, it would be your turn to shine. Every move, every step, every beat was etched into your mind. You had rehearsed and memorized everything, from the choreography to the cues. The anticipation was palpable as you prepared to take the stage. Eddie Robin and Steve were set up in the VIP section, and you had an excellent sightline. You felt the cheers from the crowd pulsing through your veins as you stepped under the spotlight.

“She’s incredible!” Robin cheered.

“I had no idea she could sing like that!” Steve was in shock.

“What do you think, Eddie?” Robin turns, but her friend is nowhere in sight. “Ed? Hey, where is Eddie?”

Steve looks around, and he has no idea.

“Maybe he had to take a leak or something?”

Unbeknownst to them, you had a little surprise for your friends.

“How are we feeling tonight!?” You ask the crowd from centre stage.

The crowd roared in response.

“I said, “How are we feeling tonight? “ you ask again, and the crowd cheers as loud as possible.

“Very good, Coachella! I’m so grateful for you guys having me! this is a crucial moment in my career, a highlight, really.” You paced the stage.

“I’m so grateful for you guys to take time out of your day to come out and see me. It means more to me than you ever know! You guys make me feel like a rockstar!”

The crowd cheers again, even louder, and you can’t seem to break the smile off your face.

“Now, before we get this party started, I need you guys to give a warm welcome to a new friend of mine.” You look over to the side stage and wave a hand.

“Everyone, put your hands together for this rockstar! The best guitarist I’ve ever encountered! Give it up for Eddie Munson!” The crowd cheers as you ask them to, and you swear you hear Steve and Robin above all else.

Eddie cannot believe he is standing on stage in front of a crowd with thousands of people in California instead of 6 drunks in Hawkins, Indiana.

Eddie never imagined this opportunity would come to him, but here he was as if a magical being had granted him one wish in life.

When you looked at Eddie, a smile spread across your face, etched into his memory forever. Eddie looked so hot that you couldn’t help but rake your eyes up and down, taking him in. He wore his black ripped jeans, boots, and denim vest, showcasing his many tattoos.

The way you looked tonight was so beautiful. Eddie didn’t think he could make it through the three songs he’s rehearsed with you over the last two days.

Your music wasn’t Eddie’s usual genre. However, it wasn’t as bubblegum pop as he expected. He appreciated many rock elements and would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.

“Okay, let’s rock!” And Eddie started the first riff of the second half of the setlist.

The crowd was electric, and Eddie’s heart felt like it would pound out of his chest, especially when it came to the guitar solo he absolutely nailed.

“Thank you, Coachella! Goodnight!” The roar of the crowd doesn't die down.

You grab Eddie by the hand and run off stage. As you make it to the stage, Eddie wraps you in a high so tight it takes your breath away.

“That was incredible! Unbelievable!” Eddie howled in excitement. “I can’t believe that just happened!”

“It’s incredible, isn’t it!” You smile.

“Yes! God, I could kiss you!”

“Who is stopping you?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps it was the fact that Eddie would be leaving soon, but you wanted it so bad that you threw all caution to the wind.

“What?” Eddie’s eyes winded.

“Kiss me, rockstar. I know you want to.”

You pulled Eddie in by the guitar strap, and your lips connected. The moment his plump lips made contact with your deep cherry-cola-coloured ones, you knew this was something more than physical attraction. You haven’t felt a kiss like this in a very long time. The both of you pull away regretfully, but you are standing in the middle of backstage, and techs and roadies are running all over the place; you can’t just make out with Eddie here.

“Come home with me to my place tonight? You ask bravely.

Eddie quickly nods his head, at a loss for words.

“Okay,”

Nothing could top this moment for Eddie. It was you and him alone for the first time. He was in your bedroom, and the height he was feeling was too much to contain. Eddie pulled you in closer, his lips crashing into yours harder as his hands grabbed the silver material of your mini dress. He pushed you up against the wall, and you felt his tight hold on your body. His hard body pressed up against yours, and the only thing separating you was four layers of thin cloth dawning you and Eddie.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” You moan.

Eddie’s head spun at your confession. You thought he was hot. You, the girl who made all of his wildest dreams come true and then some.

“I want you,” you mumble into his lips.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice before his hand travelled up between the soft skin of your plush thighs.

The way your skin felt under his fingertips makes you shiver. Slowly, his callused tips found their way to the cloth of your soaked panties.

Eddie moaned into you as his kiss trailed down the side of your jaw to your neck, catching that sweet spot that makes your pussy weep.

Eddie’s fingers delicately stroke up and down your slit like he would break you, but you need more. You can’t help your hips rock back and forth into his touch.

Eddie didn’t think he would end up with a pop star grinding into his hand when he planned his trip to Cali with his friend, but he wasn’t complaining. He would be happy if this was the furthest the two of you got.

“More,” You plead, and your hand wiggles its way between the two of you to stroke his already hardening cock.

Eddie buckles his hips into your hand unwillingly, but the feeling of your hand on his cock had him acting on instinct. The two of you dry-humping one another against the wall wasn’t enough.

“Need you, want you so bad,” Eddie confesses.

You push up off the wall and drag Eddie to your bed. You push him back with a giggle, then fall to your knees before him.

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath. Your gaze meets Eddie, and it’s like a siren is looking back up at him, ready to drown him with your lust.

You quickly unbuckle and unbutton and unzip everything containing Eddie’s bulge from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you finally unwrap him. His tip was already crying for your touch, so red and shiny due to the precum that had been leaking ever since you kissed him when you both got off stage. His long, thick shaft taunted you as if it might not be able to fit.

“Want to teach me why they call you Eddie the Freak?” You smirk.

“Fuck Bunnie, you don’t know what you’re asking for. "

“That’s why I’m asking, big boy.”

You don’t give Eddie a chance to respond before wrapping your warm lips around his fat tip.

“Yes, sweetheart, right there,” he draws out his words as you take him in further.

His hands grip the roots of your hair, pulling them taught as your mouth takes him to the back of your throat.

“Oh god,” He moans again. The way your mouth feels around his cock is making him want to thrust up into you, but he holds back for your sake. He knows you asked him to share why he’s called the freak, but he’s not ready to scare you away with his kinks, not yet.

“Fuck baby, you’re so big” You pull off and replace your mouth with your hand so you can catch your breath. Your lung capacity may be suitable for singing, but you can only hold so much breath.

“You think so, pretty girl?” Eddie brushed a fallen piece of hair from your face, and you swore you had never been so hot and bothered.

You bite your bottom lip and try to grind yourself on your heels for any source of friction as you take him back in your mouth. His taste was addictive, and so was the way he was looking down at you with a look in his eyes that made you feel so wanted.

“Such good girl; you like being on your knees for me?”

You nod your head and hum on his cock in a reference, and that makes Eddie’s head spin. The way your mouth is sending vibrations through him has him pulling you up off of him because he would end the night early if you keep that up.

You giggle as he switches your positions and strips himself. Your head hits your pillows, and you sink into the plush mattress.

“You’re wearing too many clothes," Eddie smirks as his hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up, up, up, until it meets the lower part of your breasts. Then you take over, folding the fabric over your head.

“Fuuuuuuuuck” Eddie draws out before letting his head fall between them. He presses his face into your chest, kissing and sucking on your tits before he finally takes one nipple into his mouth.

“Tonight should be all about you, Sweetheart.” he nips at your sensitive skin.

“Should worship you like you deserve.”

A low main leaves your throat before Eddie dips down to discard your sodden panties. Finally, he has you where he wants; needy for him and naked.

“Knew you’d have sucha’ pretty pussy, Bunnie.”

“Edddieee” you cry; it’s pathetic how riled up you’ve become.

“Don’t be a brat now,” he warns, but that only makes your pussy throb even more than it has been.

You’re dying to be touched; you craved him so badly that you couldn’t stand it.

Eddie’s mouth dips down to your lower stomach, long drawn-out mouth kisses trailing along your skin around your mound, your under thighs. His teeth nipped and bit at your tender flesh, not breaking the skin but enough to mark you up, to claim you as his own.

“Eddie, please, baby, touch me.” You ask as you stroke the fallen hair out of his face.

“Asking so nicely, good girl.” He purrs.

You can’t help but let out a long sigh as Eddie's tongue makes contact with your swollen bundle of overly sensitive nerves.

He tasers you fully as the flat of his tongue drags itself over your slit. Your slick coats itself on his lips and chin as he sends a rush of pleasure through your veins.

Eddie, the Freak Munson, should be renamed to Eddie the Munch for the irresistible way he’s eating you out. His hands push your inner thighs wider so he has more of you to consume. Your exposed pussy calls to him as he eats you like he’s enjoying it more than you are. He wants you to cum all over his mouth.

Eddie lifts his head and replaces his mouth with his fingers as he pushes up inside of your pussy while massaging your clit with his thumb.

“I know you’re close, baby; give it to me. I need to know how you taste coming on my tongue.”

His dirty words had your head spinning and your core tightening. He was right; you were so close, you wanted- no, you needed to come.

“Please, please, please,” you begged for him to let you have the wave of pleasure wash over your body.

Eddie had you right where he needed you, in the sweet spot of being so desperate that you’d agree to anything he asked. He loved being in control this way; he loved wanting to feel powerful but also loved how much you trusted him to do so.

But what Eddie loved most of all was how you were about to cum all over his face; he loves pussy so much he can’t get enough of it, so he dips back down and has you cumming on his tongue as he pushed it up into your hole and didn’t let up as his thumb rubbed on your clit.

He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice before wanting to get to the best part.

“Did so good baby, you taste so good. I know you got one more in you for me.”

You can’t even speak; the way he just made you come so quickly, one after another, was mind-blowing.

“Want to teach me why they call you Bunnie?” Eddie mocks as he pulls you up to switch positions.

How were you to ride him after all that?

“Fuck Eddie, I don’t know if I can; my legs are like jello,” you giggle.

“I believe in you, baby,” he creases your ass as you align yourself over his cock.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” He stops you.

“I’m on birth control” You slowly rub your pussy over his shaft, teasing the head at your entrance, threatening to put it in.

“Shiiiiiit” Eddie’s head goes back. “You want to be my little Bunny? Hop on it raw?”

“Mmmmmmm, yes,” you hum as your hips rock back and forth.

“Fuck okay, okay.” And before the second okay is out of Eddie’s mouth, you’re already sinking on his cock. It feels so good that he stretches you until your hips are connected to the bottom.

The only thing filling the room was the sounds of skin slapping skin and the moans coming from each of your mouths. His hands roam your body, exploring the swell of your breasts, your nipples, down around your hips, your back and your ass giving it a tight squeeze.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re such a good Bunny, bouncing and taking my cock so well.”

“So big.” Your legs were already burning as you worked yourself up and down on his body.

“You going to cum like that, huh?” His hips match your rhythm, and you work together to create the perfect pace.

“That’s my girl, that’s my girl, that’s my girl,” he chants like a prayer as your pussy clenches down on Eddie’s cock, making that your third orgasm of the evening. Your body shutters as your orgasm takes over you, the icing on the cake of the day you’ve had today.

“I’m close. Where do you want it.”

“In me, cum in me, please.”

“Fuck, you sure?”

“Yes!” You had stopped bouncing me, but Edie had you held in place as he fucked his hips up into you.

You can feel his balls slapping your ass and his cock twitching so deeply inside you that tiny ripples of post-orgasm spasms are still running through you.

With a grunt, Eddie collapses, and you fall on top of him. Your hot bodies pressed together, chests heaving, breathing in one another.

“Hey, you wanna stay?” You tentatively as as you curl up next to him.

“Sure baby, I can spend the night”

“No no-well yea, but no…I mean here in California… you can join the band” you bite your lip.

“You-you want me to join your band?”

You nod your head slowly.

“Woah…”

“I know it’s crazy! But you’re so good, and you love it. It wouldn't be exactly what you want, but it also puts your foot in the door, and I kind of don’t want you to leave.” You blab.

“All I heard was you don’t want me to leave, Eddie teases.

“I’m serious,” you playfully swat his chest.

“I’m going to have to call my boss in the morning,” he smirked.

“Really?”

“Id have gone an idot to pass up an opportunity like this sweetheart.

Tagging some mooties @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munson-blurbs @maisieisaloserr @ghost-proofbaby @littlexdeaths @take-everything-you-can @andvys @userchai @loserboysandlithium @floredaqueen @sexmetaleddie @strangerstilinski @myherometalhead

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