#its close enough to white to get away with using white i think.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 21

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18 || PART 19 || PART 20

Chrissy’s in Steve’s bed, sprawled out on her stomach, trying to plow through her homework when Steve says, “I need your help.”

Her heart’s in her throat as she whips her head toward him, already halfway through jumping up off the bed, ready to bury whatever body he needs burying.

But, he’s not even looking at her; he’s restlessly tearing a blank piece of paper into tiny little pieces, and his ears are a familiar, damning red. He’s not worried, he’s embarrassed.

“Jeez, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Chrissy sighs, flopping back down onto the bed. She’s gotten far too used to all of Steve’s problems being life or death, and whatever this is, she can tell it’s not that.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters.

She just waves her hand and flips her notes and textbook closed, ready to think about something, anything else. “What is it, boy troubles?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously, only to drop all pretenses when Steve ducks his head like a turtle hiding within its shell. “Already?”

“It’s not a problem, Chris, god,” he sighs, running his hand anxiously through his hair. “I just thought—nevermind, it’s stupid.”

And then he just, picks his homework back up, as if Chrissy would ever let him get away with that. “Steve Harrington,” she snaps, only feeling marginally bad when he snaps his head back up. “Nothing about you is stupid.”

He’s still turtling into himself, but he nods dutifully, so she continues. “Now, tell me what you were going to say.”

He groans, flopping down on the bed to stare up at his white ceiling, barely blinking. She follows his lead, collapsing bonelessly next to him and rolling atop all their coursework until she’s nestled into his side, both of them giggling.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, and finally begins to speak. “I have  a date with Eddie tomorrow, right?” he says, looking down at her for confirmation. She nods, even though he’d never given her a specific date. “And I wanted you to help me, like, plan it?”

She blinks, nonplussed as the blush on his cheeks disperses across his cheeks. She rolls over, elbow planted on his chest so she can use it to prop her chin up and peer down at him. “You need help planning a date?” she asks, voice incredulous.

He groans, reaching up to hide his face from her view, but she grabs his wrists and yanks them back down. He pouts up at her while she watches on, unamused.

“Most of my usual date plans are like, public? We can’t exactly just show up at Benny’s and share a milkshake, you know?” Chrissy grimaces, not having thought of that, but before she can apologize, he continues talking. “And besides…”

He trails off, eyes darting back and forth between her eyes as his blush travels down his neck and up the bridge of his nose.

“Besides?” she prompts, voice soft.

“We started this whole thing together, right?” he asks, looking earnestly up at her. “It wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t finish it together.”

Chrissy’s shriveled heart grows three sizes and bursts with such a ferocious love that she collapses onto him without warning, arms wrapping around him and squeezing tight enough that he groans.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” she says, ignoring all his pleas for her to loosen her hold. “I’m so glad you looked pathetic enough that day for me to come ask if you needed help.”

“I didn’t look that pathetic,” he grumbles, finally succeeding in tossing her off of him, sending her careening off the bed and onto the lush carpet of his bedroom floor.

He peers over the side of the bed, looking worried, so she smiles up at him until he reaches down and helps her back up.

“You looked like a wet puppy someone had tossed in a river,” she replies, bulldozing through his continued complaints to ask, “now, what were you thinking?”

In the end, it’s a fairly typical date set-up, but instead of dinner at a nice restaurant, it’s in Steve’s home. They lay a checkered table cloth across the Harrington’s breakfast nook, make sure he has all the ingredients for burgers and fries, and then set about attempting to make milkshakes once Steve reveals he’s never made them before.

Their first attempt splatters chocolate ice cream and milk all over the ceiling. Their second results in a water concoction that, while edible, is less than pleasant.

The third is thick, barely able to be sucked through one of the straw’s Steve had stolen from Benny’s. It’s perfect.

“Can you dump Eddie so I can go on the date instead?” she asks, barely pausing in her pursuit of sucking the shake through her straw.

Steve laughs and replies, “Or, I can just make you one whenever you want,” he says, nudging the shake closer to her, leaving his own straw inside.

She beams, and drinks the entire thing.

Steve accosts her before lunch the day of, telling Jeff, “can you tell everyone we’ll be missing lunch? Thanks,” before dragging her away.

“I thought we were done with this,” she says, settling into the seat across from him as he pulls out a familiar notebook she hasn’t even glimpsed for weeks.

He opens it, but doesn’t turn to the back of the notebook where all his rough draft secret admirer letters lay. Instead, he pulls a light blue envelope from the front and hands it over to her.

She stares down at Eddie’s name in Steve’s messy scrawl, clearly written carefully to keep it legible.

“Steve?” she asks, ghosting her fingers over the letters before looking up into his anxious face.

“It’s just—I liked writing the letters, so I wanted to give him one on our date, so,” he breaks their gazes to look down at the envelope, biting his lip. “I already wrote it, but it wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t read it first.”

Steve Harrington, Chrissy thinks, eyes welling with all the fondness her body’s too small to contain. “Okay,” she sniffs, smiling down at the letter as she carefully slides her finger under the envelope’s flap and pulls it free.

It unfolds into the letter itself, Steve having clearly reverse-engineered it from all the times Eddie had done the same. Only then does she realize that at some point, he must have stolen a page from her planner because that’s the same as the first time, too.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything, just hunches back over the letter and begins to read.

   Eddie —

   I know we don’t have to do this anymore, but I miss it. Isn’t that the strangest thing? I’m happy talking to you face to face, holding your hand beneath the table, pressing my lips against yours, but I miss reading your words, and I miss writing my own.

   So, here I am, writing you the day before our second date, so nervous and excited I might just throw up. Because we can do it now, you know? We can do all the things we’ve talked about (and more). I’m excited to do them with you.    

   If the date goes well, I want you to put this under your pillow, hold my face in your mind, and dream of me.

   Hopefully Yours, Hopefully Always,

   Steve

   P.S. I know you can just put them in my locker now, but maybe put this one in The Return of the King? Just this once, for me?

“How is it?” Steve asks when she’s been staring down at the words on the page for probably too long. “Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect,” she says, grinning when his entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “And so are you.”

***

“They’re not coming to lunch,” Jeff says as he settles onto the bench at their usual table, a slab of lasagna already somehow congealing on his tray.

“Are they okay?” Eddie asks, dropping his own fork to try to glean any worry on Jeff’s own face.

“Steve was definitely excited when he dragged Chrissy off,” Jeff replies, shrugging. Before Eddie can even spit out his follow-up question, Jeff continues, “no idea what they’re doing, though,” and he closes his mouth.

“I know,” Robin calls from down the table, voice all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie turns to glare at her, but she just keeps grinning around her sandwich, Vickie looking equally lost at her side.

“Are you going to enlighten the rest of the class,” Eddie asks, gesturing to the rest of the table despite clearly being the only one who gives a shit.

Robin grins wider and replies, “it’s a secret,” tauntingly like she knows somehow that word is his ultimate trigger.

Eddie whines, but no one pays him any mind. Even more cruelly, he doesn’t see Steve for the rest of the school day, leaving him flushed and flustered as he rushes home to get ready for their date. 

Unfortunately, it’s Wayne’s day off, so he’s there to heckle Eddie as he changes his outfit enough times to leave his hair a frizzy mop on the top of his head.

“You dressin’ for a date or to be the janitor’s new mop?” Wayne asks, laughing as Eddie rushes past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

Unfortunately, Wayne’s right, so Eddie runs a damp brush through his hair, trying to make the frizziness merge back with the rest of his hair. When it doesn’t really work, Eddie folds his hair into a bun and elects not to look at himself in the mirror again.

With ten minutes to spare, Eddie moves his frantic pacing for the living room, walking back and forth in front of Wayne, fingers gyrating as he tries to keep them from further ruining his hair.

“You really wearing that?” Wayne asks, long since having given up on trying to watch the TV, Eddie’s body too much of a moving obstacle to crane his neck around.

Eddie stops and stares down at his outfit. “What’s wrong with this?”

It’s a more put together version of his usual style: his only pair of black jeans that haven’t gotten any holes yet, clunky boots, still adequately polished from his last date with Steve, a plain black t-shirt, fingers full of rings except the one he keeps bare, the ring still on Steve’s own finger.

“You know what I mean, boy,” Wayne sighs, looking him up and down with so much judgment that Eddie wants to shrivel up and die. “Ain’t the jacket a bit much?”

Eddie fondles the green and white cuff of the jacket’s sleeve. He does a little spin, like a dog chasing its own tail, trying to get a look at the way it hangs on his frame.

Wayne’s right—it looks almost incongruous on him, clashing absurdly with the rest of his outfit, but it’s got Steve’s name on its back, and a small, shivery part of Eddie likes that. Jock courting rituals are absurd, but there’s maybe something to this one.

Maybe Steve will like it, too—his name on Eddie’s back.

“Is it too much?” Eddie asks, voice taking on that higher pitch that only dogs can hear. He turns to Wayne, panicky and desperate. “Do you think it’s coming on too strong?”

Wayne’s mouth twists up all sardonic and wry as he snorts and replies, “that boy’s been writing you love notes for months. There ain’t no such thing as too strong, for a thing like that.”

Eddie feels his cheeks warm. He breaks eye contact, looking down the floor as he scuffs the toe of his boot against the carpet bashfully.

Before he can voice any of the self-conscious bullshit kicking around in his head, there’s a knock at the door. Eddie snaps his head up and freezes, staring with mounting hysteria at the closed front door until there’s a second knock and he snaps back to life.

“Oh my god, places everybody!” Eddie cries, clutching at his head in panic, undoing all the work he’d done on his hair in one fell swoop.

“I ain’t moving,” Wayne says from the chair.

Eddie rushes past him, skidding to a halt in front of the door. He wastes precious seconds taking a few deep breaths before he swings the door open, fake smile plastered on his face. It melts into something excited and real when he catches sight of Steve.

Steve, who’s wearing the leather jacket Chrissy still hasn't returned. Steve, who’s fiddling with the lapels and blushing self-consciously until he catches sight of Eddie’s own attire and bursts out laughing.

“Great minds think alike, huh Harrington?” Eddie asks, smiling down at him.

While on Eddie, the aesthetic mismatch looks bizarre, Steve’s light-wash jeans and green polo somehow only enhance the effect of Eddie’s oversized leather jacket.

“It’s The Return of the King,” Eddie says, looking up and down Steve’s body, smirking before catching sight of his befuddled face. “We’ve really gotta get you up to date on Tolkien.”

“Oh, the hobbit books?” Steve asks, smiling brightly. “I just started the first one. Bilbo’s a pretty cool dude.”

Eddie takes a shuddering breath, heart kicking up a notch. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Eddie replies in a hushed tone. Steve Harrington is reading The Hobbit. This fact somehow has him feeling more faint than seeing him in Eddie’s own jacket. He clears his throat, face hot, heartbeat rapid. “Should—should we go?”

His voice squeaks awkwardly, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He just beams up at Eddie and takes two graceful steps back off the front stoop, holding his arm out to gesture Eddie over the threshold of his own trailer.

Eddie slams the door, muffling Wayne’s embarrassing call of, “have him home by ten!” just in time.

He skips down the steps and latches onto Steve’s held out arm, letting Steve lead him toward his car like a gentleman.

“You know, I think Chrissy and Jeff had some sort of weird sex thing with this jacket?” Eddie asks, shaking his arm demonstratively.

“Yeah, Chrissy told me.”

"Seriously?" Eddie squawks, stopping suddenly enough that he kicks up gravel beneath his boots.

"No, you idiot,” Steve says, laughing at him even as he stops beside him, still holding onto Eddie’s arm.

“Oh, good because—”

“Jeff did.”

Eddie sputters, eyes wide until he turns and sees Steve’s shit-stirring grin. “You’re the worst,” he says, pouting as Steve just starts laughing again. “Why do I even like you?”

That has Steve’s ears turning pink, and his eyes averting to look toward his car, seeming almost shy. “Well,” he starts before cutting himself off when his voice comes out strangely high. He clears his throat and continues, “shall we?”

Steve gestures toward his parked car with his free hand because return of The King or not, this guy’s somehow, inexplicably, a nerd.

Eddie wants to kiss him about it, but they’re in public, already toeing the line of what’s acceptable in polite society, so all he does is squeeze Steve’s arm where it’s still wrapped around his and reply, “we shall.”

There will be time for kisses later—time for all of the things Eddie’s finding he wants to do with Steve Harrington.

They’ve got nothing but time.

The End

If you've read this far, thank you so much! Especially if you've like, reblogged, or commented. It all means so much to me, and I appreciate every single one of you.

This could have gone on for another 50k, I'm sure, but this feels like the right ending to me. It's not a story about Being Together, it's a story about Finding Each Other, and they've both done that, with Chrissy, and Robin, and Jeff, and now with each other <3<3<3

Now, one final shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for both being the best beta a guy can ask for, and to be the one who came up with this idea at all. It literally couldn't exist without you, and I appreciate you so much <3<3<3

[hrrtshape]

you're in your little boat, drifting across the ocean. the lighthouse is RIGHT THERE.

the boat isn’t new. it’s worn, splintered in some places, patched in others. you’ve been in this sea longer than you care to admit, maybe longer than you even remember. the salt has settled into your skin, into the frayed ropes you tie and untie every night as if the act itself keeps you alive. the oars groan when you lift them, not because they’re weak, but because they’ve been used. by you. for miles. for years.

and yet, somehow, through the wreckage of every storm, you’re still afloat. you’ve been lost, yes. there were nights so thick with fog you couldn’t see your hands in front of your face. there were days you chased phantom lights, thinking they were leading you somewhere, only to find yourself circling back to the same expanse of grey nothingness.

but the lighthouse... it’s always been there. maybe you didn’t notice it at first, or maybe you pretended not to. it was easier to blame the stars for being too dim or your compass for spinning wildly. easier to convince yourself that the sea itself was a cruel, endless maze with no shoreline at all.

but deep down, you’ve always known. the light was there.

its beam of light cuts through the mist, guiding you, clear as day. it’s not just calling you; it’s rooted in the ground, steady and certain, shining for you. the shoreline isn’t moving. the lighthouse isn’t hiding.

you see it now—close enough to make your chest ache. it’s not some shimmering mirage or cruel trick. it’s solid, white stone against the horizon. the kind of steady you haven’t felt in yourself for as long as you can remember.

but instead of rowing toward it, you falter. you tell yourself you need to prepare. you’ve been on this sea too long to mess up now. "i need to be sure," you think, as if the lighthouse might turn off its light the second you get too close.

so you pause. you gather your tattered maps and study them with shaky hands, even though you know they’ve led you in circles before. you tie and untie the same knots, fiddle with the sails, you stop to measure the wind, you grab a book on how to navigate the ocean for beginners.

but your boat doesn’t move.

you wonder, "what if i’m not ready? maybe i need a new map, what if there are rocks under the water? what if this lighthouse isn't for me? what if i need a bigger boat?" you glance over your shoulder, back toward the endless sea you’ve already crossed, thinking maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. at least there, you didn’t have to try. you could drift and dream and tell yourself the light was still far away.

suddenly, the simplicity of "point the boat forward and row" feels too easy.

and meanwhile, the lighthouse is still there. it hasn’t gone anywhere. its light cuts through every excuse, every over-complication. but you’ve tied yourself up in knots, believing you need to be more prepared before you even take a single step toward it.

SO....WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

you are stalling. you are overthinking. you are convincing yourself that the lighthouse is some unattainable miracle when, in reality, it’s just sitting there.

the lighthouse doesn’t care how fancy your boat is. it doesn’t care if you’re an expert sailor or if you’re rowing with a piece of driftwood and pure awareness. it’s not judging your technique or keeping score of how many affirmations you’ve whispered to the sea.

it’s just there. shining.

and suddenly, you’ve spent days, weeks, months circling the lighthouse, but never steering toward it.

THE LIGHTHOUSE DOESN'T REQUIRE THAT OVERTHINKING.

here’s the truth: the lighthouse isn’t asking for any of this. it doesn’t care if you’re ready. it doesn’t care if you doubt or hesitate or trip over your own feet. the lighthouse is simply there.

the lighthouse doesn’t need your rituals. it doesn’t need you to plan every step of the journey. it just needs you to move.

so, you finally drop the excuses. you stop checking the map. you stop looking for signs. you put your hands on the wheel, point the boat toward the light, and just… row.

and suddenly, the water feels calm. the mist clears. the shore gets closer and closer until the lighthouse is towering above you, its light wrapping around you like a hug.

you've made it. not because you prepared perfectly. not because you deserved it. but because you let yourself take the step you were always capable of taking.

the lighthouse was never far. you just needed to believe it was yours to reach. and you didn’t need the map or the affirmations or the perfect mindset — you needed to trust that the light wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t meant for you.

stop circling the water. stop overcomplicating the journey. the light is shining for you. so just go. because it's there, just on the shore.

ib archsariel333 <3

[red-dyed-sarumane]

very slowly we are working on the maximizer plushies outfit. unless i suddenly have to do something i should have her shirt/skirt done tomorrow & then i have to do her coat & headphones

[icewindandboringhorror]

It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.

Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.

[klyette]

" PLEASE, ITS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH "

Hashtags # : dubcon , perverted man/men , handjob , naive ! reader , fem ! reader : you/your prns.reader having boobs mentioned n pussy , mentioned almost dying , boobjob , pervert ! character , multiple x reader , could be seen as an "au" depending on the character (s) !

Notes : ughh<<33 my pussy :x if u know what this smut is kinda inspired by, I love u <3

The Pervert! Who had a crush on you, his face flushing when he sees your tits pressing against your top, squashed against it. How he wishes it was his face between your tits or his hands squeezing them !

The Pervert! Who groans when he gets stabbed his lower stomach, his top teeth gritting against his bottom ones. You being the sweetheart, you are~ you helped him, getting him to safety, your cute hands touching his body and his lewd hands desiring to touch your ass.

The Pervert! Who grins when you aren't looking, he has the perfect plan to get you do what he wants, you of course will do it, you love giving him a helping hand. He does let out a groan of pain, the stab wound making it hard to think for a moment until your tits bring him out of the pain.

The Pervert! Who whine stay he can't fell his legs so you rub his ankle and he tells you more higher, your hands now rubbing his knee and he tells you higher so you go higher. Your hands rubbing near his crotch, he goes hard when he looks at you, your cute face focusing on him.

The Pervert! Who moans and groans, you smile and think that he is getting better when he is just getting harder, he feels bold so he moves your hand and you look in confusion. His hand unzipping his pants, you blink and your mouth opens in shock, your face darkens and you flush in embarrassment. He looks at you and puts on a sad face, pouting.

The Pervert! Who begs and pleas you so that you can save his life by giving him head, which he doesn't say out loud but he said that you will have to use your pretty hand to rub his dick so that he lives.

The Pervert! Who begs you "C'mon {name}... It's matter of life and death... You have to help me.." he said, faking a tear and you agree, being naive, and not understanding that you rubbing one out for him will not make him live.

The Pervert! Who throws his head and closes his eyes, groaning as your hand goes in a slow pace, he takes groans in pain so you can go faster. Your pretty hand wrapped around his dick, he groans some more in pain before he asks you if you suck on his tip.

The Pervert! Who leads how you suck, he says that you have to do it or else he will be in more pain, you suck and your confused still he finds it hot. Your pretty lips wrapped around his tip, your hand still stroking the rest of his cock, he groans in pleasure.

The Pervert! Who looks at your lips and your ass as you're on your knees to suck him off, your dress showing off your ass in great ways. He wants to hold your ass and make you bounce on his dick, his hands touching your pretty bottom as you go wild on him. Oh, so much pre-cum is leaking out~

The Pervert! Who stares at your tits, being more squashed in your top, he grabs your head and shakes you slightly so your moving. Due to that, your tits are slightly jiggling when your body moves, he lets out a growl at the sight.

The Pervert! Who has another idea when he sees your tits, he wants to cum on your perfect breasts. His white painting your tits, he groans in pain(faking) and says that what you are doing isn't enough so you panic and go faster. He finds it cute.

The Pervert! Who makes slight remarks about your tits, and giving hints that he wants them to rub his dick, your mouth forms a "o" when you realize, you bite your finger before you take off your top and bra. Your tits are out and you look away, he pulls you closer, your breast touching his tip and he groans.

The Pervert! Who makes you place your hands on both sides so he can place his dick between them, he grins and slides his dick in. His dick being nicely hugged by your tits, he tells you to move them so you do. He grips at his pants and makes you go faster.

The Pervert! Who doesn't warn you when he cums, shocking you when your face and tits are painted with his seed, some of it landing on your mouth. You blink and you pull away, your legs are trembling and your hands are shaking slightly. You fall back and your legs are spread, good thing you don't wear a short under your skirt because he can see your panties and sure are they damp~

#: CHILDE , shidou , gojo , TOJI , aiku , tengen , sampo , aventurine , kaveh , kaiser , solomon , asmo , dazai , nikolai + your faves + other fandoms !

©klyette : do not claim

[jupiterpilgrim]

Sex Cage: Fame, Fun and Fire

Kwon Eunbi x Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 8.5K

part 1//part 2

You and Eunbi are seated side by side at the mall food court, each of you carrying a look of shared anxiety. Around you, the crowd is a tangled mess of shopping bags, kids running around, and people who’ve clearly never heard of headphones. But the noise outside is nothing compared to the storm within.

"So... are you nervous?" Eunbi nudges you, a teasing smile on her lips, trying to ease both your tension and her own.

"Just a little," you admit.

"Look, babe, you need to get used to this stuff. She’s just a girl."

"Not just any girl," you retort, frowning. "It's Yujin."

Eunbi shrugs, as casual as if meeting one of the biggest content creators of the moment were just another ordinary day. "So, she’s famous—big deal. She still puts on her pants one leg at a time, just like us." She looks at you, something warm and affectionate in her eyes. "Seriously, love, when she gets here, you’ll see. It'll be like talking to anyone else."

As if the universe had a particularly cynical sense of humor, a voice chimes in from behind you.

"Found you!"

You both turn your heads so fast you might win an Olympic medal in synchronized movements. And there she is—Yujin, in person, flesh and blood. Taller than you imagined, with an aura that seems to light up the entire food court. She’s dressed casually, a loose black knit sweater with a basic white tank barely visible underneath, and frayed denim shorts that add a laid-back vibe, matched with a studded belt. Sunglasses complete the look.

The brightness of her smile shatters any notion of “just a girl” into tiny, irrelevant pieces.

“Hi... hi!” Eunbi finally stands, throwing herself into a hug with Yujin, desperately trying to keep her composure. You’re still stuck on the bench, trying to convince yourself she didn’t just step out of a fashion editorial.

Yujin steps back from Eunbi and looks at you, a smile that, if you weren’t petrified, you’d swear had a hint of complicity. "And you, aren’t you coming?" She opens her arms, waiting.

You stand, trying not to look like a complete idiot, and she pulls you into a casual hug that, in your head, lasts an eternity. “I was super excited to meet you both,” she says, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eunbi, trying her hardest to act natural, replies, “We were too. You’re even prettier in person, honestly.”

Yujin lets out a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, thanks, but look who’s talking. You’re so much more stunning in real life, too.”

Eunbi glances away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Well, I... thank you,” she stammers, unable to hold back a smile.

Yujin removes her sunglasses and glances at you, a curious expression on her face. “And you, honey, are cute too,” she says with a hint of amusement, “but you look a bit tense. Nervous?”

"I... it’s just... it’s my first time doing this," you admit, trying to play it cool. You laugh, but it’s that kind of laugh that gives away every attempt at looking natural.

"Relax. Soon enough, we’ll all be close. Want a decent coffee? I think we have a long day ahead."

Yujin leads the way to a quieter café, and you and Eunbi exchange a look—a mix of awe and satisfaction—as you follow her.

After all, it’s just another day.

Except it's not.

—

The café is an unlikely refuge in the middle of the mall chaos. Unlike the food court, the lighting here is softer, as if the designers decided people spend more if they feel mysteriously cozy. Yujin, of course, looks perfectly at ease.

You place your orders at the counter—a cappuccino for her, an extravagant frappuccino for Eunbi, and a black coffee for you, because someone here had to add a touch of seriousness. With drinks in hand, the three of you find a table by the window, where you can watch the hurried tide of shoppers on the other side of the glass, as if observing a documentary on human behavior in its natural habitat.

Once you’re settled, Yujin turns to you both, firing off, “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d accept the offer. It took you a while to reply.”

You and Eunbi share one of those telepathic glances that only develop after years together. “We were... going through some stuff at the time,” Eunbi answers, a bit awkwardly, as if trying to give a short answer to a question that deserves a thesis.

“Ah, I get it,” Yujin says, with a smile that makes it clear she really does. “Relationships, huh? They always have their ups and downs.”

For a brief second, you and Eunbi glance at each other again, like two students caught off guard by a question in the middle of class. Explaining that, back in the anonymous video days, you were just friends feels like an odyssey no one wants to start. So you simply say nothing. Silence, after all, is one of the most efficient forms of communication.

Unfazed, Yujin continues, as if she has the supernatural gift of skipping over the complicated parts. “So how’s it been, now that you’re not anonymous anymore?”

“Funny,” Eunbi begins. “The first few weeks were... strange. I was afraid to go out, like, what if someone recognized me? But then I realized the world out there is a lot bigger than the view count on my screen.”

“Oh, the ego hates this part,” Yujin comments, with a smile you’d classify as experienced. “But don’t worry. The worst that can happen is someone asking for a photo.”

She tilts her head, her eyes roaming over the two of you. “And your families? How did they react?”

You clear your throat, searching for the words. “Well, only my family knows. Eunbi’s parents... haven’t found out yet, apparently. In fact, not even our friends found out. You know, it's not something you reveal with much enthusiasm. But eventually they'll get to the truth."

“Really? Well, I hope everything goes well when they find out,” Yujin says.

“My family didn’t take it too well at first, and maybe the fact that I revealed this to them when I was drunk contributed to that,” you admit, exhaling like you’re shedding a weight. “We ended up taking a... break for a while, you know? But eventually, they called, and we were able to talk without drama. In the end, they came around.”

Yujin lets out a laugh, this time a bit more bitter. “Parents, huh? Mine didn’t accept it at all. But honestly? I was never a big fan of them anyway. These days, we kind of... don’t talk anymore.” She shrugs, as if it were a small thing and not a complete family break. “Sad, isn’t it? But that’s life.”

And then, right on cue, the drinks arrive. The waitress sets the cups down with clockwork precision, and Yujin holds her cappuccino as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to keep discussing family breakdowns while savoring milk foam.

You stare at the foam on your black coffee, maybe as a symbolic attempt to glimpse into the future. “And you... do you regret this choice?”

“Me?” Yujin raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Not at all. Today, I have my own life, I live super well, and freedom is priceless. By the way, what about you two? Any regrets?”

Eunbi shrugs, leaning over to grab her frappuccino. “Not yet,” she answers, looking at you for a moment as if seeking confirmation.

“Same here,” you add. “So far, nothing’s really gone wrong. I quit my old job and now I have more free time to spend with my girlfriend, helping her with her business. But I confess that sometimes I find myself having some doubts about the future."

“Don’t overthink it. As long as you two have each other, you’ll get through any challenge.” She says it like someone who’s navigated a fair share of rough waters and lived to tell the tale.

You and Eunbi share another look, and this time the smile you exchange feels like a silent pact, an okay, we can do this.

Yujin continues with a casual prophecy. “Oh, and one more thing. This will also become your new normal. In five years, you might not even remember what the old life was like.”

Eunbi tilts her head, pretending innocence. “And is that a good thing?”

“Oh, it’s very good,” Yujin replies, with a smile half genuine, half enigmatic. She takes a sip of her cappuccino, seeming to savor every drop, as if drinking directly from a magic potion. “Freedom can be a little... lonely at times. But honestly? It’s the best thing there is.”

You and Eunbi absorb this in silence, but it’s not a silence that lasts long, as the café door almost trembles when a group of girls enter, spotting Yujin. In an instant, the carefully cultivated tranquility of the café goes right out the window.

“OH MY GOD, YUJIN!” one of them yells with the intensity of someone spotting Beyoncé. The entire café turns to look as you and Eunbi shrink in surprise. But Yujin only flashes that smile she’s probably practiced in the mirror just for moments like this.

She gives a small wave, like a queen in her royal chamber, and the girls rush over, each with eyes sparkling with admiration and a genuine urgency, as if they’re reporters interviewing a celebrity on the red carpet.

“I’m your biggest fan!” exclaims the first one, staring at Yujin like she’s the last source of water in a desert. “I watch all your streams on Twitch. I mean, EVERY one. Even that stream that crashed because of your cat. That part was iconic.”

Yujin laughs, nodding. “Ah, yes. He always thinks the keyboard is the best bed in the house.”

The second girl practically jumps with excitement. “You’re like my fashion muse! I copied that blue hair you had a few months ago, you know? But the blue washed out after like three washes. Any tricks?”

“Sure. First, get a good toner. Then say a couple of Hail Marys. Works every time.”

The third seems almost breathless with adrenaline, as if she’s been preparing her whole life for this moment. “Seriously, you’re everything to me! I even follow your playlist on Spotify. Like, I’m OBSESSED with your workout playlist.”

Yujin, now visibly flattered, raises an eyebrow. “Ah, the workout playlist… a classic.” She turns to you and Eunbi, as if wanting to share a private joke. “It has a certain vibe, you know? Who knew ‘Dancing Queen’ could be so motivating for leg presses?”

Then one of the girls pulls out her phone, eyes alight with hope. “Can we take a picture with you, Yujin? And maybe you could say ‘hi’ on Stories? Just to prove this surreal moment actually happened.”

Yujin nods like a patient teacher. “Of course, let’s do it! Who wants to be first?”

It’s chaos.

Each of them takes a selfie from a carefully studied angle, as if taking an X-ray, and Yujin smiles serenely in all of them, saintly calm. She says a quick “hi, everyone, I’m here at the café with these beauties!” on one girl’s Stories, while the girl herself looks ready to faint from sheer emotion.

Between selfies, one fan glances over at Eunbi, her eyes widening. “Wait… aren’t you Rubydden? Oh my God, I've seen some of your photos on Instagram! You’re so beautiful, seriously!”

Eunbi gives a bashful yet proud smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. And this is my boyfriend…”

“Is he also an influencer?”

“Well, in a way... yes,” Eunbi replies.

Another one elbows her friend, not-so-quietly whispering, “Hey guys, now there are three famous influencers here! This café’s getting a five-star Google upgrade today!”

Yujin, clearly amused, wraps up the photos and casually comments, “You girls are amazing. Really. But now let me drink my cappuccino before it turns into iced coffee.”

The girls laugh, enchanted by how Yujin effortlessly combines a hint of farewell without losing any charm. They gradually back away, waving and sending another wave of compliments, promises to keep following everything she does, and even a lone “I love you” from the back of the group.

Once they’re gone, Eunbi turns to Yujin, looking fascinated, almost incredulous. “Does… does this happen to you a lot?”

“Depends on the day,” Yujin replies, picking up her cup and taking a casual sip, as if fans were a weather phenomenon she’s learned to predict. “But lately, I’ve been seeing more girls following me. Ever since I started making content beyond, you know, just porn.”

Eunbi snaps her fingers, like she’s had an idea. “Hey, Yujin… do you think I should start streaming on Twitch too?”

Yujin looks at her over the rim of her cup, like she’s evaluating a new piece of furniture. “Should you? Eunbi, that’s not even a question. It’s practically your duty! And I say that with no pressure, of course.” She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that makes it clear the decision is practically made.

“Besides, you already have everything. You’re charming, fun, and just mysterious enough to keep the audience hooked.”

Eunbi laughs, but you can see the idea starting to appeal to her. She turns to you. “Do you think I should try it?”

“Definitely,” you reply. “And if you need, I can handle all the tech stuff. I can even set up notifications that scream ‘let’s fucking go’ every time someone subscribes.”

Yujin laughs, nodding, and takes another sip of her coffee. “That’s it! People love that kind of silly stuff! Oh, and another thing, Eunbi: Twitch could be a gateway to other types of content. You can show you’re a whole person, you know? Talk about whatever you want. Books, music, I don’t know, the best kind of tea—anything that makes people see you’re more than a pretty face and a name. It’s marketing, it’s fun, and honestly, it’ll protect you a bit from objectification. They won’t just see ‘Eunbi, the hot girl from OnlyFans,’ but ‘Eunbi, the one who chats about everything for an hour and makes it interesting.’”

Eunbi blinks, surprised. “Does that actually work?”

“More than you think,” Yujin responds with a mysterious smile. “And, over time, you won’t even need to explain you’re more than what they see. They’ll already know.”

“So… that’s it,” Eunbi says, looking at you with an expression that’s part excitement, part slight fear. “Get ready, you’ll have a lot of work helping me set things up.”

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s going to be great, sweetheart. And we’ll definitely do some streams together. We’ll break the platform.”

You look at Yujin, a thought bubbling up in your mind. “So, Yujin,” you start, as if about to ask the secret of the universe, “since we’re talking about this spotlight thing… Who’s the most famous adult content creator you’ve ever met?”

Yujin doesn’t hesitate for a second. Her eyes light up, and her smile widens like someone about to recount a legend.

“Karina.”

The word comes out with an almost tangible reverence, and both you and Eunbi lean in slightly closer, as if pulled by a collective magnet of admiration.

“Karina?” Eunbi repeats, curiosity shimmering in every syllable.

Yujin nods, with that distant look of someone who’s seen the Mona Lisa or the Taj Mahal up close on a sunny afternoon. “Karina isn’t just famous. She’s, like... an entity. Tall, graceful, perfect hair and skin, a flawless body, and a sense of style that could make anyone feel like a shabby peasant just by existing in the same room.”

“Hmm, I see. So… she’s pretty?” you ask, choosing the simplest word so it’s not too obvious that you already know who she is.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Pretty? Honey, pretty doesn’t even come close. She’s stunning. Impeccable. The kind of person you look at and think, ‘Will my mom forgive me if I drop everything to devote myself to this woman?’”

Eunbi lets out a small laugh, but it’s clear she’s just as fascinated. “And she’s actually nice to talk to and all?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’d expect someone like her to be arrogant, right? But Karina is sweet, kind. When she speaks, it feels like she’s dedicating all her attention to you. She makes you feel like the most interesting person in the world.” Yujin sighs, as if reliving a pleasant dream. “She’s polite with everyone, never makes anyone feel uncomfortable. It’s almost surreal.”

“Wow, she sounds like a myth.” Eunbi sighs.

“Almost, yeah,” Yujin admits, leaning back. “She’s a woman of class, you know? If I were to describe her... She’s like an old Hollywood movie star, but... updated for the internet age.”

Eunbi’s gaze slowly slides over to you, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And you, babe, have you heard of this goddess?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, but your mind feels like it’s racing to avoid the tricky questions that are clearly coming. “Well... maybe I’ve heard of her... once or twice... around... on the internet.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form. “Once or twice, huh?”

Yujin doesn’t miss a beat, her gaze sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure he knows exactly who I’m talking about!”

“I really don’t know if I know her,” you reply, with the conviction of someone trying to dodge an unfair accusation.

Yujin laughs out loud, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s seen at least one of her videos. She’s practically a cultural landmark. Like... like watching The Godfather or something.”

“I’m not ‘everyone,’” you insist, trying to maintain some dignity.

But Eunbi and Yujin exchange glances and burst into a shared laugh, clearly amused at your expense. “Of course not,” Eunbi says, pretending an exaggerated innocence, while Yujin nods as if fully agreeing.

“Right,” Yujin says, with a wink. “You’re totally immune to that sort of thing, for sure.”

“Okay, okay, but does she only do videos or... anything else?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Well,” Yujin begins, “She’s also an escort. And, well... they say her rates are higher than the national debt of a small country. But she’s worth every cent—at least, that’s what those who’ve paid say.”

Eunbi scrunches her nose, as if trying to imagine the price and eventually giving up on the math. “So, basically, she’s perfect. Like... the adult version of Barbie?”

“An adult Barbie mixed with the Mona Lisa and a dash of Cleopatra,” Yujin says, gesturing dramatically, as if her hands could illustrate such divinity. “But seriously, I loved chatting with her. Really. We met at a party in Dubai, it was an incredible night, I even got nervous when I saw her, but she was so sweet and patient with me that I almost felt like her close friend.”

Eunbi and you look at each other, sharing a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

“She sounds almost unreal,” you finally say, still trying to process the idea.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “She is. And the best part? She knows it. But unlike many, she doesn’t put on a show. She just... exists. And somehow, that’s more impressive than anything she could try to be.”

—

The apartment is bathed in the radiant light of early afternoon as you and Eunbi enter with Yujin, trying—unsuccessfully—to hide your nervousness under a casual façade. Yujin glances around, inspecting the space.

“Wow, what a cozy place,” she remarks. “Seems perfect for a young couple. But who knows, maybe you’ll, say, be able to expand things in the future, huh?”

Eunbi, smiling with a mixture of pride and discomfort, says, “Make yourself at home,” not quite sure what "at home" might mean for someone like Yujin.

“Oh, I will,” Yujin responds, her tone so suggestive that you and Eunbi exchange a shared, nervous glance, caught between laughter and cold sweats. Yujin then casts an investigative look around the room before dropping the question. “Can I see where you two film?”

“Of course!” Eunbi replies, excited. You both lead her down the hallway to Eunbi’s former room, still decorated with vibrant trinkets and stuffed animals. Eunbi explains with a shy smile, “Since we started dating, I moved into his room—it’s bigger. So this one became the studio.”

"You guys were living together before you were dating? That's wild!"

"We were actually roommates and best friends," Eunbi says.

"Oh, I get it! In that case, it's a really cute thing." Yujin examines the space with curiosity, nodding in approval. “Ah, the room I see in the videos,” she says, as if she’s stumbled upon the place where the Great Mystery unfolds. After a moment, she looks at Eunbi with a playful smile. “By the way, can I borrow one of your lingerie sets, princess?”

You blink, confused, and the question slips out before you can think: “Are… we filming now?”

Yujin raises an eyebrow and laughs, as if she’s dealing with a child asking why the sky is blue. “Yes, darling. I have a flight later for a podcast appearance,” she says, patient, as if this were a common part of anyone’s day.

You’re still processing the suddenness of it all when you manage to ask, “What podcast?”

“Sana’s podcast. You haven’t been on it yet, right?”

You and Eunbi look at each other, both trying to imagine the possibility, but Eunbi shakes her head, amused. “Not yet.”

“Oh, but I’ll make a recommendation,” Yujin replies with a wink, like a mischievous fairy godmother ready to pull a few invisible strings. “Sana is amazing. Hilarious, and she was one of the first to give us, adult creators, a place to speak, to give our opinions and combat insults. You guys should go. So many girls only got their break thanks to her support. She’s going to love you, I’m sure.”

Eunbi, now more excited than ever, responds, “Wow, it’d be amazing to do an episode with her.”

Yujin smiles like she’s just made a promise to fate itself. “I’ll make it happen,” she says, giving Eunbi a look. Then, with a casual gesture, she motions to you, as if giving a gentle hint.

“Now, sweetheart… could you give us a moment to get ready?” Yujin asks, more informing you than really asking, with a hint of gentle dismissal.

You feel your face warm, realizing this is your cue to step out. “Oh, sure. I… I’ll wait in the living room,” you reply, trying to seem more confident than you feel.

She closes the door with a cheerful “See you in a minute!” and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Inside the bedroom-turned-improvised studio, Eunbi and Yujin glance at each other in the mirror, half-studying, half-laughing like two friends conspiring over some obscure secret—or in their case, a rather peculiar shoot. Eunbi gestures toward the closet with a kind of solemnity, inviting Yujin. “Go on, pick a lingerie set. There’s lots of colors. And styles,” she says, almost like she’s offering a valuable gem.

Yujin, without hesitation, slips off her bra and underwear, moving around the room with the confidence of someone, well, perfectly at ease with their own body. She picks up a blue lingerie set and holds it up, examining it with an almost scientific gaze. “Think it’ll look good?”

“It’ll look gorgeous,” Eunbi replies, already picking a pink set and undressing, letting her clothes drop casually to the floor. It’s funny how the situation feels both natural and tinged with a certain strangeness.

As she slides the lingerie on, Yujin glances at Eunbi from the corner of her eye. “You’re lucky, you know? Having a boyfriend who supports you in this kind of work… that’s rare.”

Eunbi nods, adjusting the strap of her bra. “He’s really supportive. He’s part of everything with me,” she says, smiling a little bashfully, which Yujin notices.

“A rare man,” Yujin remarks, looking at Eunbi for a moment, now that they’re both in just lingerie. “Most guys panic at the idea of their girlfriend doing this sort of thing.”

She pauses, her gaze quickly tracing over Eunbi. “By the way, let me just say—you look stunning like this, you know?”

Eunbi, surprised and a little shy, laughs and murmurs a “thank you,” adjusting her lingerie with a slight blush. Then, curious, she asks, “Have you ever dated anyone since you started creating adult content?”

Yujin lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh, tinged with a bit of irony. “I tried.I've met a few guys who seemed promising at first, but none of them were looking for a committed relationship. Not with me, at least. My last boyfriend broke up with me when I started filming porn videos. Preferred a life without, well, international popularity.”

“Oh…” Eunbi makes a sympathetic face. “And you were okay with that?”

“Better this way,” Yujin shrugs, almost indifferent. “These days, I sleep with lots of amazing guys and girls. Life goes on just fine, thanks.” She adjusts her lingerie, looking in the mirror with a critical yet satisfied gaze. “Oh, help me with the clasp back here?”

Eunbi steps closer to fix the clasp, still laughing at the comment, then asks with genuine curiosity, “Do you ever think about stopping one day?”

Yujin gives a conspiratorial wink. “When I’m a millionaire, absolutely.”

Eunbi raises her eyebrows. “Really? And is that close to happening?”

Yujin looks at her in the mirror, a smile spreading. “Closer than you’d think, darling.”

She finishes adjusting the lingerie and checks herself in the mirror, turning slightly to see how it fits. “So, how does it look?”

“Beautiful. Sensational. Sexy, even,” Eunbi replies, with a sincerity that’s almost playful.

The compliment comes back quickly: “And you look like a goddess, darling. God, I’d give anything to have those glorious breasts,” she sighs, with a dramatic touch of envy. “But, now, a serious question,” Yujin continues, looking directly at Eunbi. “Are you sure you’re not going to feel jealous during the filming?”

The question makes Eunbi give a nervous laugh, hesitating before answering. “No, no… it’s fine. We know it’s just work.”

But Yujin looks at her intently, as if she wants to be sure Eunbi really understands. “This is purely professional, Eunbi. He’s your boyfriend. Nothing’s going to change. When the camera’s off, everything goes back to normal, I promise.”

Eunbi sighs and admits, laughing a little. “Well… maybe part of me will feel a bit jealous, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Trust me, after the first time, you’ll get used to it,” she says, moving closer, looking at Eunbi with that same piercing gaze. Then, in a softer tone, she says, “You know what’ll help?”

“What?”

Yujin pauses for dramatic effect.

“Kiss me.”

Eunbi freezes, eyes wide as Yujin leans in slowly, a half-smile playing on her lips, savoring Eunbi’s surprise. “Relax, it’s just a kiss,” Yujin murmurs, her tone a mix of tease and tenderness. She waits for a response, but Eunbi just stays there, eyes fixed on Yujin’s lips, the gloss catching the light in a temptation too hard to resist.

Then, as if her body decides before her mind, Eunbi closes her eyes and lets herself be drawn in. Yujin’s lips touch hers softly, making her exhale as if the air suddenly got heavier. At first, it’s a tentative kiss, almost testing boundaries—a gentle brush, the taste of sweet strawberry filling Eunbi’s senses. But soon Yujin becomes firmer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss with a confidence only someone assured could manage.

Eunbi feels a hand slide slowly to her neck, fingers weaving into her hair, pulling her closer, and Yujin’s whole body aligns, pressing against her. “Breathe,” Yujin whispers against her lips, not pulling away, as if she’s guiding Eunbi to let go, to let control slip through her fingertips.

Eunbi releases a small sigh, something caught between nervousness and pure desire, her fingers trembling slightly as she holds Yujin by the waist, clutching there as if grounding herself. The taste of gloss, the soft scent of Yujin’s perfume, now so near, surround her, melding together and holding Eunbi captive, like a slow melody.

Yujin pulls away slowly, but not far, their faces still close enough for Eunbi to feel her warm breath. With that same mix of playful and affectionate smile, Yujin looks directly into Eunbi’s eyes, her fingers resting gently on the back of her neck. “See?” she murmurs, voice low and firm, almost like a secret. “The ice is broken now.”

Her thumb drifts to the corner of Eunbi’s mouth, where the gloss still glistens, brushing as if she’s wiping away the last trace of the kiss, and lets out a soft, satisfied chuckle. “No more tension, no more nerves. Now you know you can trust me.”

Eunbi just smiles back, heart racing, “I do trust you,” she replies, “and I’m ready to start.”

—

You’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when a gentle voice breaks the quiet. You look up to find Eunbi and Yujin standing side by side, hands intertwined. They’re draped in fine lingerie that highlights each curve, every detail crafted to allure. Eunbi’s pink lace against Yujin’s cool blue creates a sight so captivating you’re left speechless.

Eunbi tilts her head with a small, teasing smile. “Well, we’re ready. Just waiting on you.” She winks.

Yujin leans closer, one brow raised, a grin on her lips. “Are you going to sit there all night or join us?” she teases, her tone light but authoritative. Turning to Eunbi, she wraps her arms around her neck, and they exchange a conspiratorial glance before laughing softly together.

You get up, trying to keep your cool as you follow them to the bedroom. Every detail set, an intimate little scene for just the three of you.

Inside the room, Yujin doesn’t waste a second. She watches you intently, her gaze that of a seasoned expert, and then commands, “Alright, just strip down.”

You hesitate, glancing at Eunbi for reassurance. She nods calmly, a soft encouragement. “Come on, babe. Just another video,” she murmurs, voice gentle but filled with affection.

One by one, you peel off each piece, stopping at your underwear. At this point, Yujin decides to break the mounting tension. She lets out a soft laugh, looks at Eunbi, and says, “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

Turning to you with a bold gleam in her eye, she says, “Excuse me, but I’m going to kiss your boyfriend.”

The air thickens, feeling both heavier and lighter, like some invisible barrier is about to come down. As it should. Yujin steps toward you, each movement filled with confidence, her eyes trailing over you, taking in every detail with a gleam that’s both professional and undeniably challenging.

She stops just inches away, her eyes glinting with intensity, a look that combines business with something raw and thrilling. “Are you ready, or do we need to spend all night convincing you?” Her head tilts, a smirk tugging at her lips, as she lifts a hand to your side, guiding it slowly to her waist.

Just a few steps away, Eunbi adjusts the camera on its tripod, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks as she focuses the lens, aligning the angle carefully. “Just so you know, I’m finding this hilarious,” she says with a smile, though her tone carries an undercurrent of affection and maybe a touch of possessiveness. She leans over to check the focus, her gaze briefly meeting yours before she looks back at the screen. “Better enjoy it… before I change my mind.” Her playful tone barely masks the blush spreading across her face.

Yujin chuckles, seeming to catch her drift. “Don’t worry, Eunbi—I’ll take good care of your boyfriend,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. And without another word, she slides her hands to your neck, pulling you closer. Her lips meet yours, the kiss starting soft, giving you a moment to settle into the feeling, the sensation, before her fingers dive deeper, slipping along the nape of your neck, as though pulling you even closer.

Your hand moves almost on its own, resting on her waist, where the soft skin meets the lace. Your fingers drift up her back, and the kiss grows bolder, both of you falling into an easy rhythm. There’s a charged energy there, a delicate balance of nerves and a shared sense of release.

In one smooth movement, Yujin’s hand slides down your side to your waistband. She presses against the fabric, feeling the hardness beneath, a playful smile curling on her lips as she kisses you. She applies a bit more pressure, gauging your reaction. You feel warmth spread over every muscle, a pulse of nerves mixed with expectation.

“Oh, so this is how you respond,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours, voice barely more than a breath. Her hand tightens, confidence clear in her touch.

Eunbi, now finished setting up the camera (it's new, now your recordings will be in 4k), watches from a short distance, arms crossed, feigning impatience. “Alright, Yujin, I think that’s enough.”

Yujin steals one last kiss before pulling back, smirking. “Alright, Miss Eunbi, all done here.”

“Perfect,” Eunbi responds. “Now, boxers off, and sit down on the bed, babe. Let’s get started.”

Trying to look composed, you strip off your boxers and take a seat at the bed’s edge. Eunbi hands you the camera, which distracts your mind—focusing on capturing every moment makes it a bit easier.

Holding the equipment steady, you watch as Eunbi and Yujin kneel between your legs, each settling into position with a practiced balance of intimacy and poise. You adjust the camera, aiming to capture every detail as they lean in close. Through the lens, you see Yujin’s confident experience alongside Eunbi’s eager, intense sincerity.

“Alright, let’s begin,” you say, “One, two, three… rolling!”

Yujin moves first, her hand wrapping around your cock with steady ease, her tongue tracing slowly over every inch, savoring each part while her gaze locks onto yours with a playful glint. “Mmm, you taste so good,” she murmurs, tone teasing, confident.

Eunbi watches, her eyes tracing Yujin’s every move, soaking up each gesture and touch. When she can’t wait any longer, she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the base, her gaze intense, filled with adoration and hunger, like she’s taking in every sensation, every detail.

"Like that, Eunbi, slow—make him feel every second," Yujin whispers, a subtle smile on her face, watching as Eunbi tries to match her pace. Eunbi gives a barely perceptible nod, determined yet completely surrendered, as if there were nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. She drags her tongue along the base while Yujin takes the tip, alternating pressure, surrounding you with an intensity that’s almost overwhelming.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice soft, thick with desire. She meets your gaze, searching for the answer in your eyes. Her lips brush over your skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat of the moment, each kiss like a silent promise.

"More than you could imagine," you rasp, struggling to keep your focus on the camera.

Yujin laughs softly, pleased by the effect they both have on you. Without warning, she takes you deeper, her lips sliding firmly, rhythmically. Her tongue circles the tip, drawing slow, teasing loops before she pulls you in, creating a pressure that sends waves of tension up your spine. "I'm going to make you lose control, and Eunbi will help," she says, a teasing tone underlying her words, her eyes alight with purpose.

Driven by her own desire, Eunbi switches between soft kisses and playful licks, exploring every inch with quiet determination.

"Yes, just like that, but firmer," Yujin instructs, holding the base as Eunbi joins her, their faces close enough that their hair nearly tangles. The combination of Yujin's precise skill and Eunbi's gentle touch is mind-blowing.

They work in tandem, Yujin taking the head as Eunbi trails her tongue along the base, each motion coordinated, each touch a new peak of pleasure. At one point, Yujin lets a hand slip down to your balls, massaging with delicate care as her mouth moves with increased intensity. "Let’s get this cock dripping wet," Yujin whispers, her gaze never leaving yours, heat flooding your body.

Emboldened by the rhythm and intensity, Eunbi lowers further, kissing along your thighs, each touch warm and light, as though she’s claiming the space. "You’re so hot, baby," she murmurs, running her tongue over your balls, alternating licks and soft kisses, every motion like a declaration of her desire.

The camera catches every detail—the looks, the touches, the mouths moving in perfect sync as Yujin and Eunbi work together, drawing you closer to the edge. Yujin’s eyes hold that knowing, wicked gleam, while Eunbi, lost in her own admiration and passion, gains confidence with each passing second.

They switch off, Yujin licking her way up your length as Eunbi focuses on the head, each pouring all their attention into every touch. In one moment of pure synchronicity, they glance at each other, smiling, and begin sucking together, Yujin lower, Eunbi at the top, her tongue teasing with playful swirls.

"Look at him," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, fingers brushing along Eunbi’s thigh for encouragement. "Show your naughty boyfriend how much you want this."

Eunbi follows her lead, lifting her gaze to meet yours, her eyes warm and inviting. She holds you firmly, her mouth hot and soft around you, sending a flush through your body.

"Now let’s play with your tits, princess," Yujin suggests.

Eunbi pulls away from your cock, her pink lips gleaming with saliva. Keeping her eyes on you, she reaches back and, with a graceful, deliberate motion, unhooks her bra. The fabric slips away, baring her firm, full breasts, her nipples already hard. She smiles, confidence and desire radiating from her every move.

Yujin watches intently, her gaze hungry. "I think we’ll need a little extra help with this, don’t you?" she murmurs, smiling with intent. Leaning toward Eunbi, the two share a conspiratorial look before each one lets a thin line of saliva drip down onto Eunbi’s breasts, warming the already flushed skin.

Eunbi bites her lip, her body reacting, and Yujin slides her hands over Eunbi’s chest, spreading the moisture slowly, her fingers caressing and squeezing. "This will feel even better for you," she murmurs, looking over at the camera, her voice low and sultry.

Eunbi shifts closer, pressing her breasts softly around your cock. The way they are—the skin glistening with saliva, the hard, pink nipples, the slow, careful movements—is perfection. Yujin smiles at you, dimples showing, her confidence somehow heightening the intensity of the moment.

Eunbi presses her breasts tighter around you, surrounding you in her warm softness. She begins to move in a measured rhythm as Yujin helps guide her motions, both of them keeping their eyes on you, capturing every reaction.

"Do you like it like this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice low, full of affection and lust. She quickens the pace, alternating between sultry glances your way and shared smiles with Yujin.

You can barely respond, caught up in the sight—the gentle, devoted touch of Eunbi contrasting with the predatory gleam in Yujin’s eyes as she takes in each detail, enjoying every moment.

Yujin catches the look on your face, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "Oh, I think he’s loving it," she murmurs. Then she moves closer to Eunbi, licking her own lips before leaning in to kiss her.

Eunbi sighs against Yujin’s lips, her chest still pressed against you, her breasts soft and warm as she continues moving. "He loves watching us like this," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, a slow, wicked smile curving her lips. "Look how he’s reacting."

She turns her gaze back to you, eyes full of intent, and murmurs, "I love making you feel good, baby."

Yujin pulls Eunbi in for another kiss, deeper and more urgent. She whispers something in Eunbi’s ear, something you can’t hear but that makes Eunbi smile and press even closer, her energy insatiable.

Her hands grip tighter, intensifying the rhythm, each stroke a heated slide against your skin. Beside her, Yujin slides a hand under her own panties, barely containing her own need as she watches, fingers getting wet as she slides them into her pussy, her eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You look so damn good between her tits," Yujin purrs, a wicked smile on her lips. She pulls her hand from her panties, fingers shining, bringing them to her mouth, licking them clean while keeping her gaze locked on the scene before her. "My panties are soaked just watching," she murmurs, a laugh escaping as she bites her lip.

Spurred by Yujin’s words, Eunbi picks up the pace, her breasts squeezing tighter around you, her mouth teasing as her tongue flicks over your tip. Each time she moves down, she presses closer, feeling every throb. "God, this feels so good," you groan, "I'm so fucking turned on, babe."

Yujin lets out a moan of her own, fingers circling faster against herself. "Oh, Eunbi, you're making your boyfriend feel so good… just look at him," she taunts, licking her fingers again before slipping them back between her thighs, her wetness echoing as she loses herself to her need.

Seeing the look of heated anticipation in Yujin’s eyes, Eunbi leans in closer, pressing her breasts around you in a tighter, more intense rhythm, her mouth quirking into a teasing smile. "You want him to fuck that wet little pussy of yours, don’t you, Yujin?" she murmurs, voice low and provocative.

Yujin moans, biting her lip, her fingers digging into her own skin. "Yes… I want him. I want to feel him… all the way inside me," she whispers, her voice trembling with pure need, her eyes ravenous as they fix on you.

Eunbi chuckles softly, not missing a beat as she continues, pressing you even more firmly as she commands, "Then beg, Yujin! Beg my boyfriend, ask him to fuck you just like you want, you little slut." Her voice rings with a possessive edge that only intensifies her allure.

Yujin doesn’t hesitate. She moans louder, fingers sinking deeper as her eyes meet yours, burning with desire. "Please, baby… fuck me," she pleads, voice nearly a whimper, her face an open invitation. "I need that thick, hard cock stretching me, filling me. Please, make me yours. I want every inch of you," she begs, her words broken by gasps as she keeps touching herself, her hips moving in rhythm, fully surrendered to you.

Watching them, the desire inside you grows with each word, each desperate movement. "I'm going to give you exactly what you want, Yujin," you murmur, voice promising, sending a shiver through her. "I'm gonna wreck that pussy."

“Then do it, baby,” Eunbi urges, pulling her breasts away from your cock. “Ruin this little slut’s pussy.”

The tension in the room reaches a boiling point.

Yujin slips off her soaked panties, kicking them aside as she lies back, legs open, body utterly exposed and eager. Her eyes glint with anticipation as you position yourself between her thighs. Holding your cock firmly, you tease her entrance, just enough to feel her warmth but without fully entering. That light touch alone makes Yujin moan, her body arching, begging silently.

She glances over to Eunbi, eyes playful. “And you? Just going to stand there?” She smiles, taunting, face pure lust. “I want you here, Eunbi... want to feel you on my tongue.”

Eunbi chuckles, her laugh sultry and wicked, and without hesitation, she slips off her own panties, moving to Yujin. Smiling, she positions herself over Yujin's face, thighs spread, lowering herself just enough so Yujin can taste her as she wants. “Then make it good, Yujin,” Eunbi orders, voice low and powerful. “I want to feel every lick.”

Yujin doesn’t need another word. Gripping Eunbi's thighs, she pulls her closer, her tongue diving eagerly between her folds, sucking with a nearly desperate intensity, her muffled moans vibrating against Eunbi's body.

Meanwhile, you press a little harder against Yujin's entrance, still teasing, letting her feel each inch but still not giving in. She arches, pressing herself up to meet you, pleading silently. “Please… put it in,” she whispers, voice dripping with need as her mouth never leaves Eunbi, each lick growing more ravenous.

With a knowing smirk, you oblige.

Yujin writhes beneath you, adjusting her hips to take you fully. “Oh god! Oh- Fuck yes! This is what I wanted!” she gasps, her voice thick with desire.

Eunbi, perched over her, grips her own breasts, fingers teasing her sensitive nipples. “Yes, Yujin… keep eating me out,” she moans, voice trembling as Yujin's tongue circles, exploring every part, making Eunbi shiver on top of her. She meets your gaze, cheeks flushed, and grins wickedly. “You like watching Yujin eat me out while you fuck her, don’t you?”

“Yeah… fuck, I love it, you’re both so fucking hot,” you breathe, voice barely more than a whisper.

Yujin squirms under Eunbi’s weight, moaning into her wet pussy, the sound muffled but enough to stoke your own arousal. “Harder,” Yujin murmurs between licks, “make me feel every inch, don’t stop… I want you to fuck this tight little pussy deep.”

You pick up the pace, your hips slamming against her with more force, feeling the pressure building around you. One hand finds Yujin's clit, rubbing in slow circles, and she bucks against you, a louder moan escaping her.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, her body tensing as Yujin devours her. “Yes, baby… keep going, fuck her deeper,” she encourages, grinding down, forcing Yujin’s mouth to work harder.

Your hand moves expertly, fingers tracing circles over Yujin’s clit while you thrust, feeling each tight pulse around your cock. With each thrust, her body arches, her face buried between Eunbi’s thighs, making her moan louder with each lick, every touch more intense.

Eunbi smiles at you, a mix of pleasure and taunt, biting her lower lip. “Go on, babe… fuck her good,” she whispers between moans, “I want to hear her scream for you.” Her words push you over, and you increase your rhythm, pounding her, Yujin’s body responding to each deep stroke. Her legs quiver, fingers gripping the sheets, nails digging in as her mouth stays busy between Eunbi’s legs.

Yujin, overwhelmed by the pleasure, lets out muffled moans, each sound vibrating against Eunbi, making her grind down, moaning even louder. “Yes… don’t stop, don’t stop,” Yujin pants, her voice broken with pleasure as her body tightens around you, breath coming in gasps.

Eunbi looks at you, her voice soft, almost a whisper, full of encouragement. “That’s it, babe… keep going… give her everything! Make her come, make her feel your cock in every inch of her,” she teases, her eyes bright as she presses down harder on Yujin’s mouth, lost in the sensation of her tongue.

You lean forward, increasing the pressure on Yujin's clit as you thrust deeper, your fingers moving faster, more insistent, the camera shaking in your other hand (you’ll thank the image stabilizer later). Yujin’s moans grow frantic, her body arching again, every muscle tense. “Yes… I’m gonna come…” she cries, her voice breaking as her body shudders in climax, while Eunbi lets out a cry of her own, lost in the rhythm of Yujin’s tongue.

Yujin’s entire body shakes, muscles tight as she surrenders completely, her voice hoarse, almost shouting. “Ah… don’t… don’t stop… it’s so good, so… ahhh, yes! Harder… more… I…!”

Your fingers press down harder on her clit, stroking in time with each thrust as you sink deeper, feeling every pulse of her tight little pussy. Yujin bites her lip, a choked scream escaping as her hands grip the sheets, eyes squeezing shut, lost in ecstasy. “Oh… my… god… I’m… ahhh, I’m coming, don’t stop, please!”

Eunbi, still perched over Yujin, watches, eyes bright with arousal, her own moans heightening as she sees Yujin’s state. She urges you on, her voice soft but fervent. “Yes, babe! Make this slut come on your cock… make her lose control!”

Then, Yujin’s body seizes, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she squirts over your thighs and onto the sheets. “Ahhhh! Yes… yes… ahhh! I’m- Oh God! Mmm, I’m coming…!” Yujin practically sobs, her body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through her, surrendering fully to the overwhelming intensity.

Eunbi lifts herself, lips parted, watching Yujin with awe. “My god, Yujin… look what he’s done to you,” she murmurs, barely holding back her own desire.

Still flushed and breathing heavily, Yujin laughs quietly, her cheeks pink, eyes half-lidded as she looks up at you, body still tingling from the aftermath. “Fuck… that cock… made me come so good,” she whispers with a smile, gaze locked on you.

Eunbi, eyes alight with a mix of possessiveness and lust, gives you a provocative smile, biting her lower lip. “So… now you’re going to fuck your girlfriend, aren’t you?” Her voice is laced with challenge and excitement. She positions herself at the edge of the bed, on all fours, ass lifted toward you, offering you the perfect view, while Yujin moves up, legs spread wide in front of your girlfriend.

With a mischievous glint, she spreads her wet folds with her fingers, beckoning Eunbi’s face closer. “Come, Eunbi… lick me while he fucks you,” she whispers, her hand gripping Eunbi’s hair, guiding her closer. “Yes, give me that tongue… show me how well you can eat pussy,” Yujin continues, moaning as Eunbi’s mouth begins to work on her.

Standing behind, you position your cock and slide slowly into Eunbi, feeling her hot, tight walls surround you. A groan escapes your lips as you sink deeper into her, each inch pulling you in. “Fuck, Eunbi… you’re so wet… so good,” you whisper, lost in the intense pleasure.

Eunbi, gasping between licks on Yujin, pants. “Yes, babe… fuck me… deeper… I want to feel you filling me.” She moves back against you, hips circling, each thrust pulling you in further, her ass trembling with each motion, every deep stroke drawing fresh moans from her.

Yujin, delirious from the feel of Eunbi’s tongue against her dripping cunt, grabs her hair, pulling just a little to savor every lick even deeper. “Ahhh, Eunbi, just like that… keep going… Mmm, you're such a slut!” she breathes, her words slipping between moans, eyes squeezed shut as each brush of that soft, wet tongue over her sensitive folds drives her wild.

The tension surges as you thrust deeper, your hands gripping Eunbi’s hips tightly, each push pulling louder, needier sounds from her. “Fuck… so tight,” you murmur, feeling her wetness, her warmth, tightening around every inch as you plunge in. Eunbi can barely keep up as she sucks Yujin, her own body trembling, pressing back against you, every move inviting you to go harder, deeper.

Yujin watches, her lips parted, a throaty moan escaping as she locks eyes with the sight of you taking your girlfriend. “Mmm, fuck,” she chuckles between moans, “You two are so fucking hot!”

Your grip on Eunbi’s waist tightens, her slick cunt clenching around you, and you lean close to her ear. “I’m taking that sweet ass next, babe.” She shivers, biting her lip, and breathes a shaky response. “Yeah, do it… fuck my ass… I want it,” she whimpers, her voice thick with excitement and anticipation.

You guide yourself, pressing the head of your cock slowly against her tight little opening, watching her stretch to take you in. Bit by bit, you slide forward, filling her.

“Ahhh… so tight,” you murmur, your breaths ragged as you film every inch with the new camera, capturing in 4K the way her snug ass opens around you. Eunbi lets out a loud moan, her head thrown back. “Yes, take it… let him wreck that ass,” Yujin whispers to her, reaching down to touch herself as she watches.

“Yes… yes, fuck my ass… fill me, go deeper…,” Eunbi moans, her voice quivering, her whole body alight as you sink in.

Holding her hip firmly, you draw her back, your cock fitting fully inside her tight hole, feeling each part of her yielding to your slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low groan, head thrown back, face twisted in a blend of pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

“Ohh, yeah… keep going… fill me up, I can take it,” she moans, eyes half-lidded, biting her lip, face flushed in pure ecstasy. Each thrust is a new adjustment, feeling her intense tightness, each slide bringing a fresh wave of sensation. “You love this, don’t you, you little slut?” you taunt, voice gravelly, pushing deeper.

Eunbi squirms, her body trembling with each thrust. “Mmm, Yes! Fuck, I love feeling you wreck me… Keep using me, babe, keep- Oh! Like that, baby! Yeah!” she responds, voice shaky, cut off by erratic moans, completely surrendered. With each thrust, the wet, filthy sounds fill the room, bodies colliding in raw, unrestrained passion.

Yujin, still watching close by, runs a hand down her own dripping pussy, eyes fixed on the scene, filled with lust. “God, look at her… you’re destroying her ass,” she whispers, her voice loaded with excitement.

Your firm grip on Eunbi’s hips pulls her back, every inch sinking deep into her tight little ass, feeling her muscles surrender to the slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low moan, her head thrown back, her face mixing pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

"Fuck, babe, watching you eat her pussy gets me so fucking hot," you growl, voice rough, thrusting even deeper. Your hand rises, landing a hard slap on her ass.

“Ow, babe! Yes, slap me! Don’t stop, wreck my little ass, fuck me good!”

Eunbi's moans fill the room, blending with the sound of your hips colliding with her body. Each movement is met with a sharp smack that leaves her skin tingling. “Ahhh, harder… fuck, go deeper… break me,” she begs, her voice hoarse, totally lost in the intense pleasure as you keep pounding, every slap drawing a new moan, louder and dripping with lust.

Yujin, lying on the bed with her legs spread, holds Eunbi’s face firmly, guiding her back to keep licking. “You two are going to make me cum just watching… keep sucking, baby… Mmm, yeah! Just like that! I’m so close, don’t stop!” Yujin moans, her voice trembling as her body arches, writhing with pleasure under Eunbi’s relentless tongue work. Eunbi’s mouth moves faster, sucking with fervor.

“Yeah, Yujin, cum all over her mouth… let my girl taste you,” you say, watching the wild scene unfolding, slowing your thrusts to let Eunbi focus on making Yujin climax. Your girlfriend responds with a muffled moan, intensifying her movements, eyes shut tight in pure concentration, determined to bring Yujin to the edge.

Eunbi feels Yujin’s body tense under her tongue, each shudder racing through her like a live current, her moans rising until they turn into raw, guttural cries. “Ahhh… yes, Eunbi… right there… make me cum, don’t stop!” Yujin practically screams, her nails digging into the sheets, back arching, utterly lost in the moment. Her breaths come fast, each gasp a wave, as Eunbi continues licking with unwavering devotion, her tongue tracing and exploring every wet, trembling inch.

Eunbi, lips and mouth fully devoted to Yujin’s pleasure, mutters through a mouth full of desire, “Cum for me, you dirty slut.” She grips Yujin’s thighs, pulling her closer, not letting any motion escape, savoring every drop. Yujin, utterly spent, sinks her head into the pillows, moaning as the waves of an overwhelming orgasm crash over her.

“Fuck, Eunbi… ahhhh… I’m cumming… cumming in your mouth…!” Yujin gasps, lost in breathless moans and broken cries.

Eunbi’s tongue laps eagerly, drinking in every drop of the hot release that spills from Yujin. She swallows it all, low moans vibrating as she savors the rich taste. With her face still glistening, Eunbi leans back, enough to release a heavy sigh, feeling you sliding your cock in and out, slow and deliberate. “Ahh… I’m close too… almost there,” she whispers, voice thick with need. Yujin, still basking in the glow, laughs softly, a wicked gleam in her eye, as she slowly rises, hand reaching out to take the camera from you with a playful grin. “Let me handle this now… it’s time to make this sexy girl lose it.”

You pull slowly out of Eunbi’s ass, watching her shiver from the sudden emptiness. Now with the camera in Yujin’s hands, the heat in the room rises even more. “I’m capturing everything from this angle… from below, catching every detail.” She asks Eunbi to stand up, guiding you both to place a leg on the bed, opening up to the camera’s raw, unfiltered view.

The two of you follow, adjusting your legs as Yujin instructed, exposing your bodies fully to the camera’s keen eye. Breathing heavily, Eunbi steadies herself, half-closed eyes watching as you position yourself behind her, ready to continue. Yujin kneels just beneath her, angling the camera from the floor so it perfectly captures your cock lined up to press back into Eunbi’s ass, her face already anticipating the pleasure. “Go on, honey… I want to see you ruin her ass.” Yujin murmurs, her voice thick with desire.

With a firm grip on Eunbi’s hips, you press against her tight entrance once more, pushing slowly until you’re fully inside. Eunbi cries out, her head tilting back as Yujin looks up, licking her lips. “That’s it, fill her up… I want to hear her moaning for you.” As the camera rolls, Yujin leans closer to Eunbi’s wet pussy, diving in hungrily, tongue exploring every part while the lens captures every second in vivid detail.

You clutch Eunbi’s hips tightly, thrusting deep into her tight ass, each stroke pulling raw, almost pleading moans from her. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be fucked on every side like a dirty little slut,” you whisper, watching her face twist in pleasure, that wild glint in her eyes.

“Mmm, yes… yes!” Eunbi cries, barely able to form words as Yujin, still on her knees between Eunbi’s parted thighs, eats her out with hungry intent, focusing especially on her swollen, sensitive clit, licking and pulsing rapidly. “You love this, don’t you?” Yujin murmurs against her wet skin, voice tinged with mischief. “Having your man destroy your ass while I lick your wet pussy!”

“Mmm, Yeah! I love this so much, I feel so slutty.… don’t stop… fuck my ass harder, baby!” Eunbi begs, clutching her own breasts, every word punctuated by broken moans, Yujin’s fingers digging into her thighs, holding them wide open. You pick up speed, thrusting deeper, feeling her body tighten, her ass squeezing around your big cock as she surrenders completely, every inch of her body pulsing with ecstasy.

“She’s almost there, honey,” Yujin says, looking up at you with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Make her scream, baby, make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

Eunbi writhes, half-closed eyes and face fully given over to pleasure, as you pound into her tight ass harder with each thrust. Her body quivers with each plunge, tense muscles, guttural moans spilling from her lips. Yujin, eyes fixed on Eunbi’s delirious expression, slips two fingers deep into her creamy pussy, moving with steady, firm thrusts, filling the room with the obscene, wet sounds of her every movement.

“Ah… yes… yes!” Eunbi nearly screams, the sound choked by your relentless pace. Yujin leans down again, mouth capturing her sensitive clit, making a lewd sucking sound, her fingers sliding in and out of that creamy, soaking pussy, her hand slick with the hot juices flowing in response. Eunbi’s body arches, utterly surrendered to both of you, every nerve alive with intense, violent pleasure.

Then suddenly, she can’t hold back—the climax hits her like a tidal wave. Eunbi’s eyes roll back, seized by an orgasm that takes control of her, body twisting, clenching in spasms as she cries out, a release that nearly takes her breath away. Her pussy tightens hard around Yujin’s fingers, releasing waves of hot juice as her ass contracts around your cock, like she’s trying to keep you inside, each pulsing contraction showing just how intensely she feels it.

“That’s it, baby… cum for us,” you murmur, Yujin’s fingers still working quickly, every motion drawing more aftershocks until Eunbi nearly collapses, trembling uncontrollably.

You hold Eunbi close against you, feeling each spasm slowly easing, her soft tremors still rippling through her body as the final waves of her orgasm fade. Her sweaty, flushed face rests on your shoulder, eyes closed, a look of pure satisfaction on her lips as she feels you slipping out of her, inch by inch.

Yujin rises slowly, her gaze smoldering as she looks at both of you, her mouth still glistening with Eunbi's essence. She finally unhooks her bra, tossing it aside, and without a word, pulls you in for a deep kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth, unashamedly sharing the salty, tangy taste of your girlfriend’s pussy, still hot on her lips. It's a slow, wet kiss, where she delights in teasing you, her mouth moving with a firmness that leaves you tense, craving more.

Eunbi, still catching her breath, practically purrs with desire, her half-lidded eyes watching the two of you devour each other. “I want some too,” she murmurs, her voice husky, almost a moan. Yujin smiles against your lips, then pulls Eunbi close, bringing the three of you together in a kiss dripping with lust.

Your tongues meet, sliding against each other in a hot, chaotic frenzy, the taste of Eunbi mingling between you all. The three of you breathe harder, each of you more ravenous than the last, devouring one another with no reservations. Yujin whispers something between kisses, her voice a mischievous murmur. “You two drive me crazy... so delicious,” she says, her hand slipping to the nape of Eunbi’s neck, holding her firmly as she deepens the kiss, tongues tangling and teasing with each motion.

Eunbi moans softly against both your mouths, eyes closed, her fingers tracing along your thigh, slowly rising, each touch light and tempting. “You and her made me cum so good, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispers, her face so close you feel the heat of her words. “But now, I want to see you cum for us…”

Yujin joins her, “Yes, baby, cover our faces with that hot cum.” The perverted tone in her voice only intensifies the heat pooling in your body.

“If that’s what you want, then both of you, get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, they sink down slowly, their eyes locked on yours, each movement a show of submission and desire. Eunbi kneels on your right, Yujin to your left, the two of them exchanging knowing looks and smiling, as if they already know what’s coming. Both of their faces glow with anticipation, mouths slightly parted, hungry gazes that don’t waver for a second.

You lean down, picking up the camera and angling it to capture every detail from above. The image on the screen shows Eunbi and Yujin looking up, lascivious smiles on their lips, eyes alight with excitement as they wait eagerly. “Look at you two,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration and provocation. “My girls, so beautiful and submissive, ready to take my load.”

Yujin starts first, gripping firmly as her tongue slides over the tip, already slick with pre-cum. “Mmm... love your taste,” she murmurs, before opening her mouth and taking in the head, sucking slowly, feeling you throb against her tongue.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, and soon joins in, leaning in to press soft kisses along the base while her hands caress your thighs and stomach, nails skimming your skin, leaving a trail of shivers. “Give us that hot load, baby,” she whispers with a voice full of desire, before licking slowly from the base to the middle of your shaft, leaving a wet trail as her eyes meet yours.

They take turns as if rehearsed, Yujin licking the frenulum with precision that makes you moan low, the tip of her tongue making slow, firm circles. Eunbi kisses along the length, making every inch wet and slick, creating a mix of warmth and moisture that leaves you harder than ever. “It’s so big… feels so good in my mouth,” she says, her hands stroking you as she looks up, that naughty smile on her face.

Yujin pulls Eunbi closer and murmurs, “Let’s show him how well we take care of him…” Together, they begin running their tongues along the length of your cock, one on each side, meeting at the tip, exchanging a glance before diving back in, Yujin sucking the head while Eunbi gently sucks on your balls, her lips wrapping around them softly, alternating between kisses and gentle sucks.

“You’re both going to make me cum like this…” you groan, unable to hold back the rising pleasure. Yujin looks up, her lips still wrapped around you, and mutters in a husky voice, “Then cum… we want every drop…”

They both intensify, Eunbi now holding the base firmly while Yujin begins to stroke you.

You feel control slipping away and warn, “I’m close…,” your voice hoarse, each second bringing you closer to the edge. Yujin keeps sucking the tip, her lips pressing against the frenulum with calculated precision.

The pleasure builds, your whole body tense as Yujin and Eunbi wait, kneeling and ravenous, their beautiful faces filled with anticipation. Yujin’s grip tightens, her hand moving faster and firmer as she watches you, her gaze fixed on your face, studying every reaction with visible satisfaction. “That’s it, keep going... let us feel everything,” she whispers, and increases the rhythm, sliding her hand with steady, relentless strokes, pushing you over the limit.

Eunbi watches each moment, licking her lips and sharing a provocative look with Yujin. “Go ahead, baby, don’t hold back,” she murmurs, her voice soft but urgent, her fingers moving slowly over your balls, pressing lightly, matching the pace of Yujin’s strokes, both of them fully focused on taking you to the peak.

Feeling the imminent release, you give a low warning, “I’m... I’m gonna cum…” They both smile, faces eager and hungry, leaning in closer, offering their faces as canvases ready to receive every drop. The first spurt erupts powerfully, thick and hot, hitting Yujin squarely, dribbling down her cheek to her parted lips. She moans low, an expression of absolute pleasure as the cum slides down, licking the edge of her lips, savoring it slowly,”Mmm, so fucking good!” she sighs, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Cum more, baby, please!”

The second spurt lands on Eunbi, splashing across her forehead and dripping down her face. She moans loudly, closing her eyes and leaning forward for more, letting the cum glide down her skin with a satisfied smile. “God... you came so much, baby,” she murmurs, licking her upper lip, tasting your release.

You’re not done yet, the accumulated pleasure so intense that the third burst shoots out forcefully, landing right between the two of them. They look at each other, faces messy and glistening with your cum, eyes sparking with desire as each lets her tongue slide slowly, teasingly, toward the spot where the last drop fell. You hold the camera steady, capturing every detail: the hungry gaze they share, the tips of their tongues meeting right in the center of that thick, warm mixture.

Yujin is the first to lean in, her tongue moving slowly across Eunbi’s cheek, licking a trail of your cum dripping down her face, savoring every inch with deliberate care. “Mmm, so good… hot and thick, just like I imagined,” she whispers, looking at you with a wicked smile before turning back to Eunbi.

Eunbi lets out a low moan, leaning in toward Yujin, her tongue finding drops at the corner of her friend’s mouth, and then her tongue slides a little further, sucking Yujin's chin, where there is a good portion of your cum accumulated. “Your cum tastes so good, baby,” Eunbi murmurs.

With the camera close, you capture the moment they start rubbing their tongues against each other, every movement intense, almost primal. Yujin chuckles softly, her hand caressing Eunbi’s face as she pulls her closer, lifting her own face slightly to spit onto Eunbi’s tongue, who receives it without hesitation. Yujin’s own tongue slides into Eunbi’s mouth with torturous slowness, mixing more of your cum with the taste of each other, low sounds of satisfaction echoing through the room.

Their mouths meet in a final, deep, wet, filthy kiss, licking and sucking everything away. The camera captures the final image: both of them with faces painted in your cum, eyes shining, wicked and satisfied.

You bring the camera closer, capturing every detail of their faces, smeared and glistening with the remnants of your pleasure. With a satisfied smile, you murmur, “Fuck, you two look absolutely gorgeous like this, my perfect cumsluts…” They look at each other and burst into laughter, a sweet, shared laugh, with that glint of someone who’s gone all the way and loved every second of it.

Yujin, wiping a last drop off Eunbi’s brow with her thumb, looks straight into the camera and, with a playful grin, asks, “So… did you enjoy this delicious experience? Was it worth it?”

You smile, nodding as the camera remains focused on their expressions. “It was perfect. Better than I could have imagined.” Eunbi, still catching her breath with cheeks flushed, admits with a satisfied sigh, “I… had no idea it would feel this good. You two… it was indescribable.”

Yujin wraps an arm around Eunbi and says warmly, “I knew you’d love it! Thank you for trusting me and diving in. You were both incredible.”

“Now… how about a little farewell for our audience?” you suggest, your tone playful. The two exchange a glance, and without hesitation, they press their cheeks together, bringing their hands up in a cute little wave, blowing kisses toward the camera. “Thank you for watching… see you next time!” they say in unison, an adorable tone that contrasts with what just happened, laughing softly as they say goodbye with their faces close, sharing light, carefree giggles.

You capture the final frame—two beautiful women, utterly relaxed, eyes still sparkling with excitement, completely caught up in the moment. With a final sigh, you end the recording, knowing you're one lucky fucking man.

—

You step out of the shower feeling like a conqueror of the world—or at least of your own little, unexpected corner of it. The coolness of the water still seems to dance over your skin, every muscle relaxed, every thought light, as if all the effort of the day had evaporated away. You throw on a T-shirt and loose pants and head into the living room, where the stars of the day—Eunbi and Yujin—are already settled in, looking comfortable, like veterans of many such adventures (and maybe, in Yujin’s case, that’s not far from the truth).

Eunbi is curled up in a hoodie three sizes too big, looking perfectly cozy, while Yujin’s wrapped in one of Eunbi’s borrowed robes, savoring a generous spoonful of ice cream.

“So, how are you two feeling?” you ask, the excitement in your voice almost dancing by itself.

The two exchange a knowing smile. “Relaxed,” Eunbi answers with a soft smile, her eyes still sparkling.

“Alive,” Yujin adds, pausing only to take another spoonful of ice cream. Then she turns to Eunbi with a casual look and a curious smile. “And the jealousy, honey? How’d you hold up?”

Eunbi blushes, but she doesn’t look away, accepting the question as a challenge. “You know… at first, yeah. It was hard seeing him… connecting with someone else. But as I watched how much he was enjoying it… I don’t know, I think I started enjoying it, too.”

Yujin laughs softly, clearly pleased. “Now that’s the spirit. And can I just say? For your first time with a girl, you were amazing.” She regards Eunbi with playful admiration. “And I’m not just talking about technique, you know? It was more… your enthusiasm.”

Eunbi blushes even more but doesn’t lose her smile. “Well… you made it easy.”

Yujin turns to you with that look of someone sharing the world’s most obvious secret, adding, “And you… I have to say, those guys who seem quiet and reserved… they always end up being the best. Must be something to do with… attention to detail.”

You chuckle awkwardly, trying to hide the satisfaction that still shows. “Look, I never… really imagined I’d be… with two incredible women like this.” You try, but words don’t seem to be enough.

“Oh, and getting paid for it, no less! How do you manage it?”

“The money and the adventures are great,” you begin, feeling a sudden inspiration, “but seeing my girl happy is what really matters to me. I’m just in this for her, and for as far as she wants to go.”

Yujin gives a playful look between you and Eunbi. “See? You two have something special. Most couples wouldn’t even consider this, but you? You’re here, having fun, creating intimate and unique memories, just embracing it all. No bullshit.”

Eunbi, still smiling with a mix of pride and tenderness, sighs. “Yeah… but honestly? I think what makes it work is that we… talk. Like, really talk.”

“Yes,” Yujin adds, “that’s rarer than it sounds. And don’t get me wrong, sometimes just the… physical part is great, you know? But having someone who understands and supports you? That’s the hard part to find.” She gives a soft, almost sentimental smile before diving back into her ice cream as if it were the last of its kind.

“So, is it time for your podcast with Sana now?” Eunbi asks.

Yujin nods eagerly. “Yep, straight from a hot session with you two to the spotlight.”

You laugh lightly. “Can’t believe we have a celebrity in our apartment. How do you handle all these commitments?”

She leans in with an exaggerated expression of importance, pretending to adjust an invisible crown. “Oh, darlings, you’re in the presence of a businesswoman. Important, in-demand, and… completely devoted to this fantastic ice cream!”

Eunbi smiles, her eyes shining with admiration. “I’m going to watch the episode! Bet you’ll steal the show!”

“You… err… You two are just so sweet, you know?” Yujin murmurs, but her voice breaks, a sudden, unexpected emotion making her words stumble. Tears start forming silently in her eyes as she tries, comically, to keep devouring the ice cream as if nothing’s happening. She laughs, a clumsy sob escaping as tears fall without ceremony. “Sorry, it’s just… you know, it’s so good. This ice cream… is emotionally very intense, I guess. It just caught me off guard.”

Eunbi, a bit alarmed, asks softly, “Yujin, are you okay?”

“Of course!” Yujin laughs again, still mixing her shaky voice with humor to brush it off. “It’s just… it’s like everything hit me all at once, you know? Just… tired. But nothing serious.” She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, smiling. “It’s not depression or anything, okay? Just a bit of burnout. Something light. Normal.”

You watch the tension unwind from her face, layer by layer, and feel something more than curiosity—real concern, that uncomfortable feeling of seeing someone who seemed unbreakable finally give way. You sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her with almost reverent care.

“Yujin,” you say, your voice low and steady. “If you need anything, anything at all…”

Yujin looks up, a little surprised, then smiles. It’s almost a painful smile, one that won’t quite admit that maybe, just maybe, she really does need that offer of help. She shakes her head. “No, really, you two are sweethearts. It’s just… you know, sometimes it’s all a bit too much. And then I forget. Forget to breathe. Forget to… I don’t know… take care of myself a little.”

Eunbi watches her closely, as if trying to decipher every word, every nuance. “It’s okay, you know? If you want to cancel the podcast… Sana will understand. It’s just one episode.”

Yujin takes a deep breath and shakes her head, this time with a determined look. “Oh, no… Sana is… Sana is one of the good ones. I want to go. It’ll be fun, I just need a little… I don’t know, pep talk, maybe?” She gives a short laugh, but sadness lingers there, lurking, and her hand still trembles slightly as she sets her ice cream bowl on the coffee table.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t give up. She holds Yujin’s hand between hers, firm and warm, grounding her, and says with a soft but resolute voice, “Yujin, no matter what happens… we’re here. For anything you need, really.”

For the first time, Yujin looks at you both without any of her usual masks, and you see a glimmer of something vulnerable, almost fragile. She opens her mouth, and for a moment, you think she might say something heavy, something real. But instead, she lets out a dry, melancholy laugh.

“Look at me,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Here I am, getting all emotional, babbling a bunch of nonsense. God, I can be so ridiculous sometimes! But now that's enough, no more crying here! And I'm sorry about this, guys."

She gives you and Eunbi a look full of tenderness, as if she wants to capture this moment, this presence, this support that maybe, she hadn’t expected. She jokes, her voice still a bit shaky: “You know what? What if the three of us just formed a throuple, huh? A modern fairytale, all ours.”

You all laugh, the tension finally melting away. She wipes the tears from her eyes, standing up with a renewed energy. “Just kidding, of course. You two are wonderful together. If I joined this story, I’d probably just ruin the magic.” She shrugs, adjusting her borrowed robe. “Besides, I like having the bed all to myself. You know, no fighting over the blanket.”

—

Later, in the dark bedroom, you're completely out, already dreaming about absurdly nonsensical things. But Eunbi is nowhere near sleep. She’s lying there, shifting restlessly, as if waiting for you to wake up and ask what's wrong; finally, she loses patience and nudges your shoulder. Once, twice, three times, until you make some indistinct noise halfway between a snore and a "huh?"

“Are you awake, babe?” she asks, like the repeated pokes hadn’t already given her the answer.

“Now I am,” you mumble, still keeping your eyes closed. “Not like I wanted to sleep or anything.”

“Stop being silly,” she says, but her voice is soft, almost hesitant. There’s something in it that makes you crack one eye open. “I’m worried about Yujin.”

You turn to look at her, blinking in the dark to focus. “Hmm, Yujin? The same Yujin who posted stories just a few hours ago, smiling on the plane? The same Yujin who left our apartment on the phone about a sponsorship offer from a... vibrator brand?”

Eunbi sighs. “Yes, I know. But still… that doesn’t mean she’s actually okay.”

You let out a tired sigh, remembering how Yujin was—laughing, having fun, brimming with an energy that seemed unbreakable. Until, of course, she randomly started crying. “Yeah, that was… weird. But you’ve done that too, you know? I’ve seen you start crying out of nowhere sometimes.”

“That’s when I’m on my period, you dummy,” she mutters, resting a light but ‘threatening’ hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle smack. “Totally different.”

You laugh, pulling her a little closer. “Alright, alright. But seriously, babe, Yujin’s an adult, you know? I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s had a moment like that.”

“I know, but… should I have insisted that she rest?”

“You did more than enough,” you say softly. “She knows we were there for her. And I’m sure she’s grateful for that, you know? Just because she projects that ‘I’m indestructible’ vibe doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the support. If she needs anything, she’ll text you or some other friend. She’s fine, don’t worry.”

Eunbi sighs again, but there’s a bit more ease in it this time. “Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I am,” you say, pulling her in even closer. “And besides, we’re gonna see her again, remember? We’re gonna film more stuff together. We’ll get used to her freaking out, laughing, crying… it’s all part of the package.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, feigning a jealous look. “Oh, yeah? Who says we’re filming with her again? Did you like her that much?”

You chuckle, catching her playful tone. “Obviously. All for your success, babe. It’s just strategic thinking, you know?”

She laughs, giving your chest a light smack. “Alright, strategist. I'm just kidding. It was really fun, the whole… experience.”

“Good. Now, go to sleep,” you say, exhausted.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, I like that,” you joke.

She rolls her eyes in the dark and replies, “Don’t even start.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot. 

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time. 

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit. 

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava. 

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider. 

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast? 

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something. 

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’. 

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you. 

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.” 

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway. 

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?” 

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors. 

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him. 

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle. 

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end. 

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.  

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room. 

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get. 

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you. 

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes  a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same. 

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.” 

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.  

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close. 

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth. 

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants. 

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full. 

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts. 

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?” 

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles. 

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane. 

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats,  nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high. 

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance. 

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention. 

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

[pampushky]

Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money. 

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot. 

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?” 

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos. 

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.” 

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?” 

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo. 

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.  

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become. 

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!! 

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back. 

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.” 

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed. 

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand. 

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down. 

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned. 

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs. 

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt. 

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25)  Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case. 

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso. 

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…” 

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there. 

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him. 

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock. 

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t. 

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade. 

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release. 

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly. 

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making. 

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through. 

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations. 

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise. 

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.” 

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol. 

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?” 

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give and submit your body to him also looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work. 

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,” 

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out. 

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s—  it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away. 

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?” 

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing. 

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all. 

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face. 

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss. 

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.” 

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again. 

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end. 

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you. 

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold. 

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you. 

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting. 

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly. 

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay. 

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood. 

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces. 

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going. 

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing. 

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over. 

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry,  right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did. 

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it. 

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,” 

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline. 

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes. 

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him. 

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

[shortcakesturns]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐑. 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

summary: rob fucks you in soulties lol

warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (nobody sees) pet names, female reader, kind of cheating mentions? (not locked in with anyone.) p in v, oral (f recieving) sorry if it’s not that good ☹️

being in a couple rob had its ups and downs, he likes to explore but you liked him. unfortunately the exploring led to him getting by another girl. rob was genuinely upset, he respected you. He felt different about you way different.

The whole day you couldn’t get it out of your head. You sat at the villa staring at liv and rob talk it away to you it didn’t look natural. they looked awkward and you had ill feelings towards liv coming and stealing him from your grasp. You couldn’t let her know you were salty, no..but you could get back at her.

Your legs moved quicker then your brain as you walked closer and closer to rob. “hey rob can I talk to you?”

“yeah sure.” rob got up from where he was sitting and began to follow you as you led him to soul-ties.

“so, I just want to talk to you about what happened last night you know.” you said as you laid down on the cushioned area. Rob quickly laid down next to you.

“me too.” he agreed with you.

“so, I’m lowkey upset by what happened, I know it’s not your fault but I feel like we had a insanely deep connection rob.” you look at him.

“yeah no me too, I think what she did was uncalled for and I was exploring others but I made it clear you were my number one and wasn’t open to the idea of being picked.” he frowns a bit.

“can I make it up to you y/n?” he looks into your eyes.

you pondered how he could make it up to you, you weren’t sure what could fill the void that you once called your couple in the villa. you had been publicly humiliated in front of thousands on tv.

“sure..” you hesitated but gave in. because who could resist those beautiful enticing eyes.

Rob wasted no time grabbing the back of your neck softly but strong enough to pull you to his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth every few pecks, the pecks became slower and deeper but rougher. Eventually both of your tongues meet and rob tugs on the waistband of your shorts.

he lays you on your back and slowly slips off your shorts and underwear tracing his fingers along your pussy. The warmth grows by the seconds and each small touch rob makes. “can I y/n? words sweetie. please.” he groans.

“yes rob, yes please.” you nod desperate for his touch.

“good girl.” he wastes no time sipping down to your wet pussy and pushing your knees to your chest to get a better angle when tasting your sweet spot. His tongue lapped your clit over and over again every other lap entering your hole before tongue fucking your hole while using his thumb to rub your clit.

He mumbles into your pussy as you feel as if your getting dragged to the edge with each lap and dip of his tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit continuously until you tense up feeling your orgasm approaching.

“that’s it let go for me sweet girl.” rob keeps the attack consistent letting you ride out your high.

“more..more rob please.” he smirks when you beg.

“begging for me? since you wanna be good i’ll give you more.” you hear him fumble with his belt buckle.

his pants drop leaving him with just underwear but those are quickly slipped off while he rubs his tip up and down your slit teasing you.

“no teasing rob.” you cry out.

“okay princess no teasing.” rob aligns his tip with your hole and begins to sink in bottoming out throwing his head back in pleasure.

“best pussy ever.” his pace speeds up roughly.

moans escape from your lips, the pleasure so intense that you can’t help but let mewls slip past your lips. his whispers and moans are incoherent too pussy drunk to form words. you guys were in a trance.

a white ring forms around the base of his cock, cream coating his length. “fuck i’m close sweet girl.” his pace begins to get sloppier and sloppier.

“me too rob fuck.” you clench around him as you feel ropes of cum hit your cervix. rob pulls out and pulls your pants up and puts your shirt on and fixes himself. he lays next to you moving strands of hair out of your face.

“if we recouple soon it’s you, your like a drug, and i’m way too addicted.” he presses a kiss against your lips while holding you

—- SORRY IF ITS BAD OR SPELLING MISTAKES ITS LATE NOT PROOFREAD

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 3: Alien

I've read so much alien romance by now—it's a good way to incorporate monsters ngl—I feel like I have seen it all. And yet, there is just something about it that I will never tire of ♥

Prompt: Day 3: Alien | Otherworldly // Uncanny Valley // Space Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Threats, (Alien) Blood Mention, Killing (of aliens), Getting cut), Abduction & being auctioned off situation, Belittling of Humans, Alien Manipulation

"And next up: A very rare pet of the type "human"! Directly imported from their home planet, "Earth," to be loved and cared for! Bidding starts at one million GSC!"

You felt terribly exposed without your clothes, merciless, harsh lights burning down on you, and no shade to hide in. Even with your arms tightly wrapped around your body, legs tugged in and crossed over, you still felt the stares of the creatures below, even if you couldn't see them. Their hungry growls and huffs echoed all around you while the price kept rising.

The lanky stature of the monster that hosted this auction paced back and forth on the edge of the stage, asking for participation and making this deal worthwhile. The creature looked like a humanoid cricket, with spindly legs, four arms, and three fingers on each hand that it kept pointing left and right.

"Four million GSC! Four-point-five million GSC! Do I hear five? Five million, thank you!"

You couldn't help the tears filling your eyes as you listened to the worth of your self, something you never had a say in determining. Even with your father swearing up and down that he adored and cherished you more than his own life, you knew that his gambling addiction would one day ruin everything you loved. You just didn't think he'd go as far as to sell you—to aliens nonetheless.

On earth, you had thought you had seen it all—highs and lows, in person or on television. But in your cell on the spaceship that flew you through the cosmos, you learned you knew nothing. You were a tiny speck in this endless design, and it left you feeling empty and meaningless.

You met quite a few species back when you were waiting for the auction to take place. Humanoids, insectoids, and some completely unexplainable. You learned that most aliens sold themselves to wealthier species to live a better life, not so much concerned with pride or shame as humans were. Thus, the existence of an enslaved human caused quite a ruckus in the galaxy. You had yet to learn the worth of GSC—the currency beyond your planet—but apparently, one million was akin to a yearly income here.

"Twenty-five million GSC! What an amazing price for a priceless pet! At this point, it will only be fair if you lovely participants know what you're getting into!"

At this, you finally raised your head again, bracing your eyes against the painful light as the thumping of steps closed in on you. A three-fingered hand reached out for your arm, and as green and gnarly as it was, its movements were fast and precise. You cowered away but weren't as quick and nimble, and the fingers were large enough to wrap around your upper arm, yanking you back.

Without any warning, a small claw emerged from one of the alien's free hands, cutting you right above its own fingers around your flesh that held you in place. You gasped but the creature hummed approvingly before it dabbed a white tissue to the wound, soaking up the blood. Unnecessarily harsh, the monster discarded your arm again, making sure to let you know how much you really meant to it with all its actions—nothing.

You were simply a means to an end. One that would hopefully bring lots of money.

If not for the precarious state, you should have been angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world—the whole galaxy even! How dare they sell you like a piece of meat with no regard for your well-being and wishes! Sure, they weren't used to the pridefulness of a race they deemed weak yet untouchable by the laws of their organization. But the way they treated you, abused you, and disregarded all of your self as if you truly were a mindless animal only seeking food and shelter to simply survive was beyond insulting!

You were still a human! The superior race on your planet. You still had intelligence and empathy and deserved so much more than their belittling treatment!

But here, you were nothing. The alien disappeared with the sample of your blood, and you saw it bend down at the edge of the stage, leaving you to assume it was passing the tissue to someone else, who, in turn, probably gave it to the patrons of this establishment. The crowd suddenly erupted in a heated cacophony of sounds. More groans and huffs spread through the masses, and the alien auctioneer clapped his four hands together as more offers were yelled into the room.

You were just a piece of meat. One to purchase and show off, play with, ruin, break, and then force to be the good pet that they paid millions for. At this point, you were pretty sure that they wouldn't stop and keep your dignity intact. That no one here truly cared whether you'd be happy or scared or embarrassed.

"Fifty-three million! Sixty-four! Do I hear sixty-five—Seventy million GSC!"

The enthusiastic grunts and murmurs made you sick to the stomach, and you hunched over, cowering in your position. Maybe they were right; perhaps you really were just an expensive piece of meat.

You hadn't given the future too much thought yet, too afraid of the present after you were kidnapped and shipped to space. But what if, despite them calling you "pet", you'd actually be killed and eaten? What if once you weren't new, weren't special anymore, you'd simply be discarded, ending up on the streets of an alien planet where you were at the mercy of those creatures? What would you do if they were all hulking, strong beasts that could throw you around like a ragdoll, hurting you, abusing you?

Or worse... Oh god, you could think of so many more things they could do, and yet you were too afraid to form the thoughts in your head.

There were so many cruel ideas in your head as you sat there, hunched over, despair filling your body and mind. You had to do something, had to get away. Pride was one thing, but survival was the most primal need you had in you. And as much as you wished for it all to be over, how could you possible achieve this? How could you, a simple human make them stop tormenting you? Secretly, you had already accepted their superiority; it had been this way since the old ages. Masses made you humans strong, but you alone? No chance.

"Do you wish to end all of this?"

Your ragged breath came to a halt, your head slowly turning to the side from where the voice came. There was no explaining what you were looking at, those humanoid features so similar to humans, yet somehow their features were sharper, elongated, cheekbones too high to be real, the nose too slim to look functional. The creature's body was lean and tall, its torso almost entirely in view from above the stage. You examined them for a long time, their blue skin standing out against the harsh lights. You spied the flick of a tail behind them every so often, sleek with a puff of hair at the end. And despite being so different, somehow, they scared you less than the aliens you had seen on your journey here.

"S-Sir, with all due respect, you're not supposed to approach them without them being restrained."

The auctioneer called out to them, stepping in front of you and blocking the line of sight unsuccessfully with its spindly, insectoid legs. You shuddered at the thought of going back into the restraints you had woken up in after being knocked out and readied for shipment. "What if they attack you or get filth all over you? These creatures are known to spit," he added more quietly, hoping to appease the one standing in front of the stage, their tail flicking more often now. Was it annoyance that crossed their features? Or did the light blind you to see the truth?

The creature's gaze lingered on you for a while longer, their eyes drilling into you from between the gaps in the legs before their head snapped upwards rapidly, lips parting in a menacing grimace. "Let them speak," they growled, and the auctioneer jumped back, sputtering before moving to the side.

Only now did you notice the deadly silence in the hall, and you slowly unfurled from your hunched-over position, looking up. But not without your arms tightening around you, shielding you a little from being exposed.

The alien's head fell back down, facing forward, the movement much gentler, less frightening—intentional. Their dark blue gaze softened, no pupils but swirls of lighter blues and purples swaying in them. And then they smiled, and it almost seemed comforting, if there weren't two rows of spiked teeth. One of their hands raised from below the stage—another uncanny feature as their arms were just too long—and the other settled on the stage tapping on it, beckoning you closer.

When the other arm emerged, it held a smooth kind of fabric in it, maybe a coat or a rag, but the dark blue color glistened in the direct light made you assume it was something better than a poor person's rag as they spread it out on the edge of the stage, pushing it in your direction as far as possible.

"It's okay now," they purred, and a sudden relief washed over you, their words sinking into you like a warm hug and reassuring backrub would, your jaw unclenching and shoulders sinking. Something about them calmed you, and although your brain was telling you to be extra careful, you couldn't help but feel connected to them. Hesitantly but curious, you inched closer, fingertips reaching for the fabric. Part of you expected the creature to pull it away from you the moment you attempted anything, but they didn't move, didn't even breathe. It was unnerving how still they could be, still like a trick of your mind, an illusion, but the soft fabric beneath your hand was very real, and you tugged at it warily.

It followed your pull, and soon enough, you pressed it to your chest, covering up your naked body. Greed settled in as you reached for more with your other hand, spreading the blue around you, the fabric seemingly never-ending, at least not until you had utterly cocooned yourself in it, nothing but your face and a few strands of your hair still looking out of it.

It had this grounding smell that enveloped you like a second layer of fabric, sweet and earthy, but also reminded you of the ocean you used to visit at home. Your heart ached as you took another deep breath, unwilling to part with the memory.

You couldn't help a shuddering breath from escaping as you looked back up at the creature. So much closer to them now, their size was even more towering, yet you didn't hesitate to look into these intriguing eyes of theirs, the swirls now creating pools of depth inside of them with how fast they were circling, looking as if they were entirely fixated on you.

"Thank you," you muttered, genuinely grateful for the help.

"My pleasure," they replied, their long-limbed arm reaching out, catching the loose strands of hair and twirling them in their fingertips. You felt like you needed to recoil, but for some reason, you didn't move, completely at peace with the creature touching you, their skin smelling much like the fabric around you. "Now, about my question. Do you wish to end all of this?"

It was a strangely phrased, hard-to-interpret question, but you didn't wreck your head before agreeing with a nod. You did want all of this to end; you didn't want to be a pet to some strange creature that was paying a lump sum just to own you. They were all the same greedy monsters that your father was: heartless and unsympathetic. Why would you not want to end this damned situation?

"Wonderful, but I'll have you know that that power comes at a price," they chuckled, hand falling from your hair to your cheek. A large palm cupped your face, thumb splitting off to caress your lower lip, pressing against it, their gaze fixating on the plumpness jumping back in place after being fondled. Then, their hand slid further down, unwrapping your neck from the fabric and slipping around your throat to the thumping spot of your puls that it wrapped around.

"Are you willing to pay that price?"

"B-But Sir! Please..." someone whimpered from beside you, but it was nearly impossible to break eye contact with the alien before you and acknowledge whoever was speaking. They had a mesmerizing aura to themselves, the swirls captivating your attention, and you felt ashamed to say they fascinated you. It felt wrong, yet... right. Was it supposed to feel that way?

"What's the price?" you mumbled, a part of you still a good human, aware that nothing came for cheap and everything should be in equal value.

"Mhm," the creature hummed thoughtfully, but not appalled by your question, their thin lips curving into a grin similar to that of a human but more foxish and uncanny.

"Your life to do what I please with, in exchange for..."

They made another thoughtful sound before the rumble in their chest turned into a purr. Their lips split into that menacing smile from before, many sharp teeth creating pristinely white rows, and you knew they thought themselves on the winning side. You felt their grip around your throat tighten, and with an unexpected yank, you were pulled forward, just a breath away from their face.

"How about every life that dares to look at you with appalling intentions? Every soul, or the equivalent in their respective race, in this room, calling you a mere pet? Every alien that touched you as if you were an object of their possession? Anyone that has ever or will in the future harm you? Would that be enough, little human? Do you require more from me? It shall be yours. Your life in my hands in exchange for everything you could want—and my coat."

You tightened the fabric around your body, a waft of the sweet scent you smelled before tingling your nostrils. It was a damn good coat, and an even better offer.

Somehow, it bothered you less to hear you'd still be sold like a slave—although perhaps better a slave than a pet. At least it would be on your terms, right? Or the alien's... Your head felt dizzy as you thought about it. If this was the promise, you could live with it. You'd at least get out of this situation and live to see another day. And you were so angry at these creatures around you, your father, everything! Why should you care about them? Right, you shouldn't. You should... agree. Take the deal and be done with it. Dealing with one alien was better than all the others.

"Do you swear to keep your promise?" you asked, and the creature sighed blissfully, nodding their head before resting their forehead to yours. Tension that you hadn't realized had been there before left their body, and you noticed their free hand creeping up on stage, closer to your bundled-up form.

"I swear," they uttered solemnly, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

"So do I."

"S-Sir! You cannot disrupt this auction as you please! There are rules on the Galactic Space Hub that prohibit direct selling of wares and—"

The sound of squashing flesh interrupted the auctioneer's speech, and your eyes widened—as did the creature's cheeky grin. You felt something hot and wet splatter on your coat but didn't realize what it was until it hit the alien in front of you on the face. Your head slowly turned with hesitant movements, but their free hand reached up, keeping your face forward instead while hushing you.

"Don't look," they chuckled, and chaos erupted in all forms of sounds around you. Neighing, squawking, and the occasional grunts were to be heard everywhere. You couldn't ignore the squashing, sputtering sounds of fluids and flesh being cut open, your body shivering with not even the coat being able to keep you warm all of a sudden as you came to a realization of what kind of deal you had made.

"Shh, shh," the alien hushed, bringing a hand up to their own face to wipe away the alien guts that had splattered them. With a flick of their wrist, they returned the arm to your back and wrapped it around you. "Just keep looking at me, don't look at them. It's your turn to keep your promise and not to disobey my orders. I hope you remember your part of the deal and spare yourself the misery."

Pulling you off the stage, you were cradled against their chest, flat and tight under what looked oddly similar to a vest and dress shirt from earth, intricate patterns decorating the seams. The curiosity of any human wanted you to look and witness the devastation that had taken place, but you couldn't tear yourself away from this strange, otherworldly creature, their command seemingly effective.

"Your Majesty, it is done. What do you wish to do now?"

"Hm," the creature hummed, leaning forward a little more, lips almost brushing yours. You held your breath, fingers clawing into their shoulders. You tensed in their hold as they carried you out of the harsh spotlight, shrouding you in the darkness that had once given privacy to the aliens trying to buy you for their own pleasure. But nothing more than silence was left now, and it was an eery one, paired with many pungent yet alluring smells around you.

"Ready my ship," the alien ordered, and you felt hypnotized by their eyes paired with their smell so close to you now. Tempted, almost, to have a taste of their lips, see if they tasted the same as they smelled. "Sent a fleet ahead of us and tell the court I am finally coming home."

They grinned again, and you should have recoiled from the sharp teeth shining in the darkness. Their whole body seemed glowing even outside of the light.

"And tell them I bring back my blood mate, my newly betrothed, and prepare for the harvest."

You gasped as you heard the creature announce their plans, pushing away from them and managing to tear away from their hypnotic gaze. No one said anything about your blood! What were their intentions? What did they want with your blood? How much blood did they want? You thought this would merely end in you being a companion, rather than a mere pet, but it seemed you had been entirely wrong.

"Ah, ah," they chuckled. "Remember, it's the price you promised to pay. My kind values clean bloodlines above all else. Imagine how hard it was to find one of your kind that matched mine? Otherwise I would have never been allowed the pleasure to keep one of you, be with one of you. You are simply perfect. Interesting, "fun". Exactly what I want in a blood mate!"

"What?" you winced, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. "Why me then? Why a human? Why not one of your own kind? O-Or the others!"

"Your kind is the most interesting of them all," they explained. "I can't wait to uncover all these emotions you are feeling, one after the other. I must know all about what it's like to feel "pain" and "happiness". You have no idea how boring these other species are, no matter what I do to them. I'm not wasting my time copulating with those simpletons. I want something more from my mate. Something they can't give me, but you can."

Their explanation sounded threatening even when they smiled throughout it, their intentions becoming awfully clear, and you squirmed in their arms that only seemed to tighten the more you moved. You fell for it like a fool! you thought, scolding yourself inwardly for not being more careful. You trusted the creature even though you knew better! None of those aliens would have treated you well! None of them had good intentions!

And you might have just fallen for the worst of them all—a curious one.

"Now, now," they tutted, a hand wrapping around your neck from behind, squeezing until you gasped for air.

"It's time to hold up your end of the bargain, as will I, always."

[tteokdoroki]

bkg jerking off over you while you sit there and look pretty🫶🏾

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. expressive.

about. bakugou never gets good at controlling how his emotions sit on his face — especially when he’s close to a well earned release.

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact! smut, vaginal sex, squirting, pulling out as a contraceptive method (don’t do this), male masturbation, cumplay, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, slight overstimulation, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

i imagine that bakugou never really gets good at controlling his facial expressions. usually, it’s super easy to tell when he’s pissed, because he has his fangs bared and his thick, dark eyebrows pinch together at the centre of his forehead. when he’s sad, he’s either unconsciously frowning or pouting — which isn’t an uncommon sight if you think about it. when he’s happy or calm, there’s a light that reflects in his ruby framed eyes to the point where they shine across a room, his soft lips upturned into a small smirk with not a trace of doubt laid across his face. 

you think, however, that katsuki is most beautiful when his body is hung over yours and he’s about to cum.

“you cummin’ baby? y’ gonna make a mess on my cock. milk your cock f’me?” you love how strained the blonde’s voice gets when he’s close, caught in the ridges of this throat and pierced by the occasional high pitched whine here and there. katsuki always makes sure that you get there before him, fumbling with your swollen clit nestled between your soaked puffy folds — using the tips of his fingers to catch whatever viscous track of juices slips out of you and around his throbbing girth before he rubs it back into the little nub. 

the air feels like it been sucked out from his lungs when your wet pussy selfishly sucks him in, clenching down on every ridge as if she doesn’t want to let go. your eyes disappear into the darkness of your skull, mouth lewdly hanging open wide enough for bakugou to spit into it. he immediately licks into your mouth afterwards, languidly rolling his hips into you with vicious wet smacks to the same tune. 

he roughs you up with spit swapping kisses, hardly giving you any room to breathe. you cry and gasp into bakugou’s open mouth, sucking on his tongue and filling him with your salacious siren’s song that only gets higher and higher with each step you take towards orgasm. he follows each movement of your mouth like he’s after the pied piper, chasing the heat of your tongue against his while his rough hands work you into a mating press — legs thrown over his shoulder and cock so deep inside you, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

his lips feel like heaven, pillowy and plush as they move with yours expertly, knowing just how to kiss you — eliciting a bright fire in your lower tummy that sets you ablaze from the inside out. squeezing around every blue, pulsating vein that twists its way around bakugou’s fat, milky shaft, you take what your given and squealing as it hammers into your g-spot over and over and over again until your mind blanks he’s claimed rule over your every thought like a barbarian fighting over land. 

“k-kats! daddy — ‘m gonna,” you drool the words across his open mouth like an erotic flash flood, your sanity dwindling into nothing and your resolve crumbling — he works into your sopping heat, stretching you open,  pounding away at that embarrassingly creamy cunt, just brushing at your cervix. poor you, you can’t help but sob at the unruly rhythm, your mount licking and unlocking to accommodate for the curve of katsuki’s dick that fills you up just right. 

it’s not long before your body fails you, and you’re cumming right then and there. white flashes behind your eyes and drowns out your vision, a scream of your lover’s name loudly rips through you while your release trickles out of you unexpectedly.

“shit, that’s it. all over me, all fuckin’ over me.” bakugou punctuates each of his breathless words with a sharp thrust into the depths of your squelching insides, watching the way you gush and stream around him and onto the bec with a hung jaw and drool seeping out of the corners of his mouth. once you’re spent and fucked beyond, he pulls out slowly — both of you mewling at the cool air on your hot and raw sexes.

now, you both know that pulling out isn’t an effective  method of contraception — but you’re both young and dumb and kid on believe in fate. but it doesn’t make it any less hot when katsuki pumps his dick over you to get off.

your boyfriend wastes no time in grabbing hold of his cock — sticky and glazed in everything you had to offer him, dripping with precum that helps guide the slick movements of his palm along his pretty shaft. you’re so pretty, covered in love bites and sweat and cum, lying there with big dizzy doe eyes — of course it’s going to rile him up. katsuki fucks his fist with an insatiable wanton, squeezing the base where you’ve left a foamy ring if your cream on him, to stave off his orgasm just so he can look at you a little longer. 

“show me your pussy baby, wanna see how much i’ve ruined you.” he heaves through the fog of desire carried in the vibrato. it shakes when you peel your doughy thighs apart — stuck together by clear ropes of your gooey release 

“i want you to cum for me, baby.”

bakugou presses his nose into your shin, a light blush dusting the bridge of it along with his cheeks. “i know, sweetness. ‘m gonna — fuck. g-gonna give it to you.” he stutters out, running a thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead. you feel like you could cum again just from watching bakugou get off to the vision of you — his lips drag along your inner shin as well causing warm breath to coast along your salt-licked skin until you’re shivering through your aftershocks in anticipation. so you dip your fingers between your legs to spread your ravaged folds, circling your abused hole to give him a good look at the damage he’s done to you.

“please katsuki,” you gasp, teasing him just a little by playing with yourself to the same pace that bakugou jerks off with . 

the blonde chokes back a pathetic sob, letting go of his achingly hot and heavy dick to let it thud against his tummy. he’s always been blessed, the sight of katsuki’s length is mouthwatering enough as it is — but seeing it bright red and shining under the yellow light, covered in a thin layer of white to show how turned on he is, is reward enough for you. 

he’s so wet and heavy, oozing at every opportunity he gets — smearing a trail of precum along his manuka honey skin. “you drive me fuckin’ insane, my baby’s tryna kill me,” bakugou slurs over the drool collecting in his mouth, spitting down onto himself which only adds to the lewdness of the situation. “wheredya want it, hah?” dewy sounds of bakugou fucking his own, soiled palm mask his shaky breath, his hips ramming forward and never letting up on their urgent rhythm. “you want me to paint that pussy, white?” leaning forward, he taps his red-hot tip against your overstimulated sex — nearly busting.

“you like that? so fuckin’ naughty, maybe you wanna get all knocked up ‘n filled up by me,” he goads, pressing his cock head against your entrance before going back to jerking off — bat the way your whole body joints from the idea of ‘accidentally’ being bred.

“or do you want me to fuck that angel mouth of yours, get a taste of me?” he speeds up, chasing that innate desire to cum, throwing his head back while a needy groan escapes from the cage in his chest. “m-maybe i should cum on those pretty tits, maybe your face. show you how much i love you. how would you like that, baby?”

his sinful suggestions lull a weak moan out of you as you rut upward, letting katsuki push his slick cock through the remainders of your release still trapped between your folds. shaking hips, you hear the blonde hiss at your warmth around him while he pumps himself harder and faster, losing pieces of himself to you. leaking all over you.

“let me have it, katsuki. cum for me, wherever you want.” you command him wistfully, following through when his colourful curses turn to airy and dreamy moans — hot spurts of viscous seed shooting from his tip over your quivering mound and soft tummy, claiming your body as katsuki’s prize. you’re in love with the way his face twists, his crimson eyes wet enough to reflect their colour like a kaleidoscope,  his pink lips bitten until cherry red and wet with his own tears and sweat,  his soft blonde hair matted to the sweat that pearls against his forehead. 

katsuki looks like an angel when he cums. 

“fuckin’… holy shit, i fuckin’ love you so much.” bakugou cries as he cums, collapsing over you smaller-than-his frame as the aftershocks wrack through him. you push your fingers through his sweaty locks to bring him back down, soothing the static ringing in his ears as the rest of his orgasm smears against your inner thigh. “y’so pretty baby, jus’ go fuckin’ insane watchin’ you cum hard f’me like that.” he breathes, lashes fluttering against your neck.

kissing the side of his head, you hum in content. “i could say the same about you, lover boy.” pushing at his muscular shoulder, you giggle. “now let’s get cleaned up, unless you were serious about getting me knocked up.” 

“s-shit,” laughing rasping, bakugou rolls off of you and nestles himself into your side. “don’t say shit like that. you already got me so fucked up.” 

“you and i both know we could go again, hot shot.” you grin as bright as ever — tempting your boyfriend into another round. “best two out of three?”

“i fuckin’ love you,” 

“i love you too.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE BLUE OF THE SKY MUST HAVE BEEN MY IMAGINATION ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can’t take your grief away. but on days when you feel as if it’s swallowing you whole, pulling you underwater, he’ll be there to reach a hand out.

word count; 10.9k 

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (gn prns are used, but gojo calls you sweet girl and princess), depictions of grief/allusions to death (reader mourns their dead best friend), hurt/comfort (heavy on both), fluffy towards the end, satoru is a good partner <3, stsg subtext if you squint, switching povs, reader is implied to be a non-sorcerer!!

a/n; i’ve always loved the idea of gojo being with a reader who also lost their best friend/other half, so this is just me playing around with that concept :3 losing a soulmate and finding a new one through the loss of that thread must feel really meaningful, right? + i’m also dedicating this piece to @neptuneblue my precious bday girl <33 i added an extra dose of devotion, flower symbolism and greek mytho refs just for you!! (pretty dividers by @/saradika-graphics <33)

a pang of sorrow.

as your consciousness begins to unfurl, cruelly torn apart from the realm of dreams, the sensation hits you like a hammer to a nail. your eyes flutter open, and your muddled mind adjusts to the soft light dyeing your bedroom a mellow gold — patches of sunlight splattering on the bed and warming up your skin, illuminating your features. gentle and soothing.

almost as if trying to coax you back to sleep; trying to protect you from something you don’t quite understand. just close your eyes, your body whispers, your mind shushes. don’t think about anything at all. 

but you don’t listen. 

part of you knows it’s a mistake. trying to identify the source of your sadness usually only makes your heart feel more tangled up — but you get the sense that this particular sorrow is one you should never, ever let go of. so you rest against the mattress, focus on the rise and fall of your chest, and simply feel it out. 

it’s a strange sensation. blooming like a flower, in the back of your brain, expanding at an alarming rate — seeping into your bloodstream, soaking the sheets beneath you with something dark and gritty, something that sends shivers down your spine. an acute sensation that something is wrong. 

that something has been wrong. for a very long time.

(and then it hits you.)

— ah.

an intake of breath. the open air has been warmed up by caring sunrays, bouncing off the glass of the windows. it tastes like dust and daydreams.

it’s today, isn’t it?

the flower in the back of your brain keeps unfurling, leaving you with a certain ache you can’t get rid of. a stain you can never, ever rinse away — and the sun’s comforting embrace does nothing to quell its weight.

what a shame, you think, gazing out at the blue of the sky. the weather is so lovely today…

something tickles your cheek. it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts; and this time, you don’t need to feel it out to know what it is. you’re already well aware. your brain knows, your body, every string of your heartbeat.

a strand of white hair. ghosting over your cheek, causing you to stir. 

two big arms are looped around your midriff, heavy and slumbering, practically immovable. you’ve tried to peel them off more times than you can count, but they just won’t budge — if anything, that only makes him cling to you tighter. subconsciously or otherwise. 

(you suspect it’s the latter, on most days.)

as always, you’re pressed up against him, close as can be. completely enveloped by his scent and body warmth, strawberries and stardust, cocooned in the safety his touch brings you — like a big, weighted blanket. or maybe more like a clingy dog.

and, despite everything… it manages to cheer you up a little. doing what the delicate caress of sunlight couldn’t. just feeling him close is enough for the corners of your lips to curl up, a warmth trying to take root in your hollowed out chest; feeling his heart beat against your own, in steady motions.

satoru. your very own personal sun.

he’s admittedly cute like this, soft little breaths slipping from his parted lips, quiet snores that he’d deny if you ever brought them up — his jaw resting contentedly on the top of your head. it’s sweet. he’s sweet. but the feeling of his hair tickling your skin is a little insufferable.

insufferable, but still somehow so endearing. 

(you’ll probably always find him endearing, no matter what he does. maybe you should feel embarrassed.)

when you crane your neck, glancing up at the man in question — your breath hitches. halts, in the back of your throat. afraid to come too close. 

satoru is always pretty, but there’s something so serene about the way he looks in the morning. before he has a chance to wake up, cover up, make himself seem bigger than he is. right now, he looks so unguarded; so sleepy and pretty and comfortable. specks of sunlight scatter across that pretty face of his, like little freckles, caressing his skin with a heavenly glow. 

it really is such a shame. the sun is shining brightly, waving hello to the newly-awakened city, and your own personal sun is right by your side. snuggled up with you, and looking prettier than ever. 

but neither of those blessings are enough to change the inevitability of what day it is, today. you feel a little bad; but you know what you have to do. 

just to see the limitations, you squirm away — or try to. you don’t even move an inch. satoru’s got you trapped, caged in by his strong arms, like he’s making sure to protect you even in his dreams. a big, overprotective bear.

wanting not to rouse him from his peaceful slumber, you can’t bring yourself to make much of an effort, either. your hands travel down to the expanse of his arms, wrapped around your midriff, gentle and light as you try to tug them off. but he won’t relent so easily — the moment you succeed even slightly, those insistent arms fall back in position. only trapping you further. 

after your fifth attempt bears no fruit, satoru lets out a low groan; shifting closer, and hugging you just a little tighter. muttering under his breath.

so you resort to a different tactic.

when you finally get a proper look at him, craning your neck as far as you can, your eyes soften. his expression makes your heart melt; sleepy and snug, and just a tad annoyed. because of your numerous escape attempts, no doubt. 

he’s so beautiful it hurts. just a little, just to look at him, just to map out every contour of his angelic face. 

so you feel a little guilty. you really don’t want to wake him up, when he so rarely gets to sleep in like this — and he’s been working so hard, lately. doing his usual sorcerer thing, that he never lets you know too much about. the guilt seeps into your bones, growing deeper with every second spent etching his soft expression into your memory, knowing just how tired he must be.

it’s not like you really have a choice, though.

leaning closer, so close you can hear his heartbeat if you strain your ears enough, you put your lips against his skin. he smells like strawberries, from the shampoo he always steals from you, and he’s pleasantly warm. like a confectionary.

a moment passes. you drag it out as long as you can, indulging in the sweet fragrance.

then you begin trailing kisses up his jaw, ghosting over his skin. soft little butterflies, fluttering from his jaw to his cheekbone.. once you get close enough to see the way his eyelashes flutter, and he stirs ever so slightly, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

”satoru,” you murmur. ”just need to go to the bathroom. can you let go for a little bit, please?” 

you try your best to speak as quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb him too much — but you can tell he hears you, even in the state he’s in. all tuckered out, his muddled mind still registering the sound of your voice, how you move your lips to form sounds. a lullaby to his sleep-ridden brain.

bringing a hand up to his forehead, you brush his bangs away with palpable tenderness, leaving a kiss against his forehead. satoru stirs, again; letting out a sleepy noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a whine. squeezing his eyes shut.

”honey,” you coo, hoping the term of endearment will get his attention. ”let go, please? i’ll be quick.”

satoru’s eyes blink open, slowly, like the shutter of a camera. you wish you could take a picture of him, right now — in all his angelic glory, painted over with warm colours and tangled up in freshly washed bedsheets. 

he takes a moment to adjust, unaccustomed to the bright morning light of your bedroom, face scrunching up — then his gaze falls on you.

and his heartbeat picks up.

you’re looking up at him so sweetly, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, smooth skin against his own. the cerulean of his eyes flutter shut once more, as he nuzzles into your palm; moving one of his arms from your waist, just so he can place his palm over yours, where it rests against his skin. absentminded.

a smile crawls up to your lips. 

”… mm,” is all he manages, an incoherent little mumble. you make another attempt at getting away, only one of his arms caging you in now, but it still doesn’t work. the moment he feels you even try, he tugs you even closer. arm keeping you nice and safe in his embrace. 

satoru makes sure that his palm is still resting over yours when he leans forward, snuggles further into your side. nuzzling into your neck, pressing his lips against your collarbone, muffling a low whine.

”stay,” he murmurs, sleepy and upset, and you almost give in. he’s still too tired to really register what’s happening, only that you’re trying to leave him. 

it makes your chest ache.

a soft sigh leaves your lips. ah, this really is too cruel. how are you supposed to ever leave his embrace when he’s acting like this?

”satoru…” your free hand finds its way to his hair, carding through the pure white strands, and he practically purrs. ”just gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay? i’ll hurry.”

another incoherent mumble. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to. still kissing your collarbone, content to have you run your fingers through his soft locks.

and you feel awful, you do — but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

as you feel him slowly, gradually fall back asleep under your caring touches… you opt to make your move. this time, you’re a little rougher — tugging his arm off and squirming away before he can think to stop you. it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially with the whine satoru lets out, arms blindly reaching out towards you — to no avail. you’re sure the loss of body warmth hits him just as hard as it does you.

an urgent voice inside your chest begs you to soothe him, to console him. seeing the little pout on his pretty lips, the furrow of his brow. 

so you lean over, carefully, cupping his cheek to leave a soft kiss against his forehead. a silent apology. ”i’ll be back soon, toru. go back to sleep, okay?” you hope he feels your love, in the action, in the words. even if he’s not really conscious enough to properly respond. 

just in case he doesn’t, you state your feelings more transparently. thumb caressing his cheekbone, as a whisper flows from out your lips: ”i love you.”

maybe it’s just your imagination, or a coincidence, but you swear he settles down a little after that. succumbing to the needs of his sleepy brain, still a little groggy and frustrated; but soothed enough to rest easy. so far, so good. caught up with thoughts of satoru, and how tiny he looks all alone in the big bed, your brain momentarily forgets about the sorrow. 

but the moment you step out of the bedroom, it’s there to greet you again. creeping up on you — a subtle, gentle kind of shock. almost kind. but hollow and cold, like the temperature of the room dropped, your almost-smile fading like a piece of paper blown away by the wind.

and suddenly, you remember what day it is. you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

as you brew your morning cup of coffee, trying to distract yourself with the purring of the espresso machine in front of you, you find your thoughts drifting back to satoru. hoping he’ll manage to stay asleep, despite your interference — it’s his first day off in a while. he needs to rest. 

… and you don’t really know if you could deal with him, if he were to wake up and locate you right now. you can imagine what he’d say, what his expression would be like; and you can imagine the exact moment he’d realize that something is wrong, how easily he’d be able to squeeze the answers out of you. you’re weak to satoru. you’d tell him immediately, just to get him to stop frowning that subtle way he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want you to know. 

which is exactly why this is your only option. sneaking away while he’s asleep, blissfully unaware, even if the guilt eats at your heart. you suppose it’s a welcome distraction. 

(today was going to feel awful, one way or another.)

everything feels a little like a struggle; putting your coat on, stepping into your shoes, making sure you have everything you need. and then, lastly, the note. satoru leaves them for you fairly often, on days he has to go to work early and doesn’t want to wake you, before late night missions and sudden workloads. when the reverse is true, you do the same. just something simple, a little act of love. 

i’ll be back around midnight. don’t wait up for me, okay? 

have a good day. :) 

don’t eat my portion of the kikufuku! i know you’re thinking about it.

i love you. <3

… usually, leaving a little note behind for him to find would make your heart feel light. but today, it’s not nearly as fun. you try your best to sound lighthearted; wholly aware of how ominous the contents still end up sounding.

good morning, satoru ♡  i’m sorry for waking you up before :( and for leaving without saying anything. i have an important errand to run, so i’ll be gone for a while. i’ll make sure i’m back before the sun sets, so just be patient, okay? i know you’re probably really mad, but don’t be too angry with me when i get back, please? i’ll buy you something sweet omw back!! ^^ that’s all, i think. i know how this sounds, but don’t worry. i’ll be back before you know it.  have a good day, alright? enjoy your day off!!  i love you ♡ :)

in all honesty, it’s a little mean. telling satoru not to worry about you is like telling the sun not to shine. he’s confident when he’s with you, thoroughly assured of his ability to protect you… but when you’re out of his sight, you think he gets a little anxious. even if he’s awfully good at hiding it.

still, there’s nothing else to do. you swallow the guilt, stick the note to the fridge, and step over the threshold. out into the real world, the cold world, the empty world. as the sun envelops you, and a spring breeze enters your lungs — that acute awareness strangling you only seems to grow deeper.

everything finally dawns on you, all at once. and it’s impossible to shake away that suffocating feeling —

the feeling that something is wrong.

(that something has been wrong. for a very, very long time.)

the cemetery is empty, this year.

you suspect the glaring sun has something to do with it. blinding you, casting a bright glow over the tombs of the dead, entirely out of place. no one wants to do their mourning in this kind of weather. it just feels wrong. 

that hasn’t stopped you, though. you wonder if it’s due to a love so strong it disregards the weather, or a blatant disregard towards the feelings of the dead. 

maybe both. probably both.

the solitude creeps up on you like a hungry ghost, but it’s a blessing in flimsy disguise; right now, you’re all alone. and today, that’s all you truly need. a feeling almost like stepping into another realm, one with no connection to things like reality or time. it’s just you, and the graves, and the ghosts. there’s no one here to see you cry, no one who can pretend like they understand. no one to witness the price you’ve paid for loving so fervently. 

slowly, you make your way across the cemetery. sparing a glance towards the city skyline, before fixing your eyes on one particular tomb. 

when you crouch down, the paper bag in your hand hits the ground with a soft crunch. all flowers are still in perfect condition; asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hyacinths. you cradle them tightly, pressed against your chest, feeding off your weakening heartbeat — your eyes moving, flitting over the grave, the name engraved into the stone. putting the bouquet down.

(you really hope she’ll like them.)

it’s surreal. to look at an object and still see a person, to touch the petals of a flower and remember the softness of human skin. you never quite got used to it. all you ever seem to do is lean into the strangeness of it all, the kick you get out of sullying something untainted. trying to remember something that should be left in the past. you can’t leave her alone.

”hi,” you whisper, so low you barely hear it. ”i’m back.”

with a sigh, you settle down on the ground; sitting cross-legged, getting comfortable. this’ll take a while.

the cherry trees are beautiful, this year. they always are; always in full bloom, almost mocking in their beauty. with their silky petals, fallen all across the ground, dyeing everything in shades of white and pink. as your eyes trail across the flowery landscape, basking in the sickening solitude of it all, that sense of otherworldliness deepens. you try not to look at the blinding sun, try not to think of the man it reminds you of. 

it’s just you, here. just you, the graves, and the cherry trees. just you, and her, and your sorrow.

for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that it’s true — you’re in a different world, now. one that settles on the wrong axis and paints itself with the wrong colours. one that stopped spinning long ago.

(the tender stirring of your heartstrings never fades away. it sounds a little like a hymn.)

all you can think of is her. all you can feel is the grief. that hole in your heart, extending, extending, extending. it hasn’t stopped since she left. a black hole of a feeling. it’s been years since it opened, years of trying to patch it up, clawing your way to a state of normalcy. living with a piece of you carved out. 

losing your other half feels a little bit like dying in reverse. having to keep going with half your shadow stripped away, out of the tunnel, into the light. even if you’d much rather fall to the bottom, with your silhouette still intact.

(throughout the years, you’ve come to a single conclusion; orpheus had it so much worse than eurydice.)

despite everything, a smile curls its way onto your lips. something soft and fleeting, that blossoms within your irises, in between your ribs. she doesn’t answer you, as always, so you keep talking — anything to still feel connected to her. anything to fill the silence of the cemetery, the numbed out grief inside your chest. 

”let’s see. where should i start…” is muttered into the open air, followed by a moment of silence, as you think of what to say. ”i’m still with satoru, if you were wondering. everything is still… good. more than good. he’s a really, really good guy.”

a moment passes.

”i hope you’re doing okay. wherever you are. if you’re anywhere at all,” soft air leaves your lungs, a little slip of a breath, but it’s shallow, like your chest doesn’t really care if you miss an inhale or not. like just giving and never getting could keep you alive. ”i miss you. a lot. i wish i could see you…” 

a hum buzzes in your throat. you try not to think of her hair, the scent of her perfume. the flower in the back of your brain has grown bigger, you notice. unfurling at an agonizing pace, blossoming the way a wound heals. throat burning, heart aching, you swallow.

(the hole inside your heart feels jagged, like cracked glass seeping into your pancreas. a deep, internal ache.)

when you speak, your voice comes out small. nothing more than a whisper, a flurry of air. there’s an honesty to the words that makes it hard to breathe.

”… everything is so boring without you around.”

a shuddering breath leaves your wobbling lips, and you know it’s coming. you make a halfhearted attempt to keep your voice from breaking, but it doesn’t work. your eyes are already glassy, wetness spilling out, tears getting stuck in your lashes, dripping down your cheeks — you manage a meek chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a broken whimper.

try as you might, her figure never leaves your mind. it’s all you can think of, ingrained into your retinas; a single silhouette, walking ahead of you. a sweet girl, maybe a little mean, but still so gentle. your very own moon, soothing in her confidence. every step she took was like a landmark for you to follow. 

if you strain yourself a little, she appears before you — a polaroid dug out from the depths of your memories. 

in almost microscopic detail, you can see her smile, the way the light reflected off her teeth. you can feel her hand, the way her fingers curled so perfectly around yours. you can see her, hear her, the colour of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. a moonlit girl, who left you all alone — walking ahead of you, always ahead, leaving you behind to catch up. bringing whispered secrets with her, soft bouts of laughter.

your one and only best friend.

(it’s not fair.)

something in you urges you to keep talking. it’s all you have it in you to do. and maybe it’s weird, maybe you’re crazy — to talk to someone who can’t hear you. less than a ghost.

but it’s nice. it’s comforting. it reminds you of the voicemails you would leave each other, on weekends you were both too busy to speak on the phone. her voice always came out a little fractured, from her shitty nuclear bomb of an iphone, but you strained your ears to hear every word she said. you always, always did.

(it was nice.)

so you continue. you tell her everything, and then some more. talking and talking, about you, about her, about satoru. by the time you’re done, the sun is getting ready to descend, painting the sky a bleeding orange. your voice has gone hoarse, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, but your chest feels a little lighter — the hole inside it a little more narrow, not as broken and split and jagged.

”so, well,” you clear your throat, finishing your one-sided conversation; smiling weakly. ”i guess what i’m trying to say is… i loved you this year, too.”

the smile on your face is tearstained, feeble, as you get back up on shaky legs, brushing petals and dust off the fabric of your pants. stretching your arms out.

”i’ll be back,” you promise, the same oath every single year. ”wait for me.”

one last look at her grave is all you allow yourself; soaking in the peace and quiet, the creamsicle sky framing it. parting with this sight always feels so strange. crossing the boundary, going back to a world where she’s dead and gone. discarding her so callously.

but you can’t keep satoru waiting, anymore. you promised him you’d get back before sunset.

when you begin your descent down the hill, you can’t help but look back — just one look, just in case she’s standing there. she never is, but you still spare a glance over your shoulder, every single time. you like to think of it as an act of love. 

it doesn’t feel as all-consuming, anymore, that exhausting numbness. the sorrow is still there, the grief is still there; but it’s a little less unendurable. and you feel that you can return to reality for another year, until you need to come back and cry some more.

for now, you can manage. 

(but you still have one big obstacle to deal with.)

it doesn’t take long to get back. 

as your fingers curl around the doorknob, you mentally prepare yourself. taking a shaky inhale. satoru definitely won’t be happy — you can already picture the frown he’ll have on his face, his crossed arms. the neverending flurry of huffs and scoffs. 

you’ll just have to bear with it. exhaustion crawls beneath your skin, and everything feels a little too heavy for you to bear without breaking. normally, you’d head straight to bed, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to coax the day into ending early. but you can’t pull something like that, today. not when satoru will be there to see it. you can only hope he’ll be understanding — even without knowing anything. 

(such an unfair thing to ask of a person.)

the door creaks open, and you step inside.

a particular scent engulfs you, as soon as you cross the threshold to your apartment. a blend between sunlight, and the fabric softener he likes, and freshly squeezed fruit juice. and, of course, that certain aroma you can only ever describe as home. 

it smells like satoru, too. then again, maybe that’s just the scent of home in disguise.

finally, the weight around your shoulders starts to crumble. it’s a little easier to breathe, like this, a weighted blanket of comfort around you. something sweet and soothing and smelling lightly of rosemary. peace — or as close to it as you can get, today.

a sigh pushes past your lips; heavy with fatigue. dripping with relief.

(you’re home.)

”well, well, well.”

— a moment passes.

the sudden noise makes you freeze up, eyes wide and alert, still in the process of kicking off your shoes. internally wincing, bracing yourself. here it comes. 

slowly, hesitantly, you raise your gaze from the floor — locking eyes with a certain man. 

satoru looks displeased, to say the very least. arms crossed, with a cute little frown playing on his lips. just as you imagined. you can’t see his eyes from behind his shades — but if you could, you’re sure they’d carry a sense of betrayal. 

”… hi, sato —”

”i can’t believe you.”

an amused breath slips from your lips. amused, but sheepish, awfully nervous. like you just came home to an angry wife, after promising to be back early from work. and satoru only huffs, staring you down like you just killed his dog.

”betrayed. deserted. by my own partner,” he scoffs, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ”what, are you done with your errand now?”

”satoru,” you try, voice falling into a melodic lilt. smiling up at him, inching closer. to your surprise, he takes a step back.

(you must have really upset him.)

a sad smile. you exhale, wringing your hands together. ”… i’m sorry i left you.”

”you should be,” he pouts, voice wounded to a degree that must be at least a little bit exaggerated. ”and you said you were just going to the bathroom.”

you let out a small, guilty chuckle. he remembers that? ”i’m really sorry. i left you the note, though…”

”right. the note,” satoru scoffs, like the word itself is personally offensive. ”d’you know how awful i felt, seeing that first thing in the morning? no sign of you anywhere, and some silly note is supposed to make up for it?” 

oh, he’s being so unfair. looking so disgruntled, tapping the pads of his fingers on his elbow. you wish you could take him seriously, but he’s way too endearing. and he won’t let you get a word in.

”i was so worried. i thought someone had kidnapped you.” satoru doesn’t let up, even when an amused chuckle leaves your lips. ”you turned your phone off and everything! what were you even doing?”

”i know, i know. i’m sorry, really. i am!” you hang up your coat, brushing off a leftover cherry petal. ”it was a personal thing, like i said. but i dealt with everything now, so it’s fine.”

”that’s not an answer,” he mutters. ”you’re really not gonna tell me?”

a pang of guilt hits your heart. 

”… sorry,” you murmur, low and feeble. avoiding his gaze. ”some other time, okay?”

satoru only lets out another spiteful scoff, arms still crossed. you wonder if he’s holding himself back from hugging you, or if he really is so angry with you that he doesn’t want you near him.

”look, toru —” you try, again, molding your voice into something soft and sweet. ”i’m really sorry. i won’t do it again, okay? and i’ll make it up to you.” 

you hold up a paper bag, waving it slightly to get his attention. you can tell that it works. ”look. i got you your favorite pastries.”

satoru’s frown remains, despite the sweet treats. he must be angrier than you thought. ”really? you think some cookies will be enough to make things right?” 

so stubborn. you suppose it’s warranted, though. you know how satoru is — if you’re not by his side for an extended amount of time, he starts to mope. after a while, he starts feeling lonely. 

and then, finally, he starts to get anxious.

he’s told you, before, how much these days mean to him; days when the two of you can stay in and relax, and watch silly tv shows, and cook dinner, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. days when he can just be your toru, and no one else. your personal splotch of sunshine.

of course he’d be upset. 

(you really are cruel, keeping him in the dark like this.)

seeing him so grumpy makes you oddly happy, though. just his presence makes that suffocating feeling in your chest feel a little more bearable, easing the burden on your restless heart. he makes you feel vulnerable.

with a thud, the paper bag drops to the floor. you open up your arms, like a blooming flower, a sheepish little smile on your lips. ”i missed you?”

the words are tinted with honey, sweet and warm, but also kind of sad. you tilt your head to the right, slightly, a silent invitation into your arms. 

and for a second, something unreadable sparks in satoru’s eyes, hidden behind the black of his shades. you still notice it, though — almost as if his whole face pauses for a second. in clever contemplation. 

you wonder if he noticed it, then. your puffy eyes, the sagging of your shoulders; the fatigue seeping off you, sticking to your skin.

you wonder if that’s why he relents, finally, stepping closer to bring you in for a hug.

the moment your head meets his chest, you’re enveloped by his scent. strawberries and fresh laundry, and a hint of expensive cologne. home.

a sigh leaves your lips, deep and content. you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, melting into the embrace — and satoru can’t really bring himself to be too angry, anymore.

”… well, i guess i could forgive you,” he muses, arms securely wrapped around your waist. you’re sure he’s trying to sound stern, but it’s not very convincing when he’s snuggling into you like this. ”but you’re gonna have to make it up to me. alright?”

”right, right,” you exhale, smiling. just thankful to be close to him, to feel that he’s there. ”thank you, oh benevolent satoru.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you feel it; the low tremor running through his chest, rumbling, as he rests his jaw on your head. ”careful with the snark. if you want to be forgiven you gotta be nice to me, sweetheart.”

you let out a breath, somewhere in between an exasperated sigh and a fond giggle. he’s relieved to hear the sound. satoru prides himself on being observant — being able to read someone with a single glance, notice if something’s off almost instantly. and he’s especially proud of his observant nature when it comes to you. 

as clear as the blue of the sky, or the brightness of the sun, satoru can tell that something’s wrong. he noticed it the moment he read that note, the moment you stepped back into the house, the moment he saw your meek little face staring up at him — desperate for comfort. as if one wrong touch could have you falling apart, shattering, like a flimsy sheet of glass.

whatever you were doing, today… it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

he’s curious, of course, and still more than a little irked at your escape — but that can wait until later. satoru can be patient, when he wants to be. at the very least, he can be patient when it comes to you. 

(for now, he’ll focus on cheering you up.)

nuzzling further into his chest, you take a deep breath, basking in the familiar sensation creeping up on you. satoru makes a halfhearted attempt to stifle his coo. 

”aw, look at you,” he grins, swaying you softly side to side. ”so clingy. you really did miss me, huh?”

a huff leaves your lips. ”shut up,” you mumble, feeling a heat rush to your cheeks. 

”be nice, baby.”

…

and you relent. the least you could do is indulge him, even if you know he’ll abuse the opportunity fully. you part your lips, and speak.

”… of course i missed you.”

”there we go,” a smug grin blooms on his lips. he rubs your back, absentmindedly. gosh, he’s infuriating. 

(you love him so much you want to sneak into his chest and gobble up his heart.)

after a moment, he pulls away from you. just a little, just to get a good look at your face. drinking you in, with his blue-soaked gaze, as your eyelashes flutter. he reaches out, the pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin — cupping your cheek with his palm, big and warm, cradling you the way a believer would cup a mouthful of holy water. 

then he leans in to kiss you. giving you no time to prepare, drawing you in, drawn to your touch, inexplicably. helplessly. 

it’s a chaste kiss, light and heart-fluttering. his lips are soft, tasting lightly of cherry chapstick. when you exhale against them, you feel him smile, almost smirking. a blissful little breath that he drinks in, hands squeezing softly at your hips, bringing you just a little closer. rubbing his nose against yours. 

his tongue flits out to lick at your bottom lip, a teasing flick, and then he’s pulling back — still close enough to make you flustered. 

”missed you too,” he purrs, voice deep and raspy, rumbling through his chest. ”thought i was gonna go insane without you.”

with a flushed face, and something akin to a pout playing at your lips, you avoid his gaze. you’re sure that if you looked now, you’d see those pools of blue peeking out beneath the black glass. 

satoru leans in to kiss you, again. giving you no warning, as always; unable to resist the temptation. 

(you really are too cute for your own good.)

it’s a little intoxicating, the way he breathes you in. sweet and warm, like he’s trying to say i love you without using any words, with just his lips and lungs and tongue. he’s a little too good at it — someone so inexperienced has no business being so naturally good at kissing. it’s a little irritating.

but that’s satoru, for you. always surpassing your expectations; like there’s no limit to his love.

satoru finally decides to spare you, satisfied with the tiny squeak that bubbles up in your throat when he nibbles at the flesh of your lip. he’ll demand more kisses later — preferably when you’re seated in his lap, and he can properly turn you into a boneless puddle.

”alright,” he chirps, a melodic lilt to his voice, stepping back with a palm still on your hip. his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. ”let’s see those pastries.”

”oh. right…” you’re quick to lean down, snatching the paper bag from where it lays on the floor. passing it to satoru, so he can look into it.

seemingly satisfied with the contents, he lets out a contemplative hum. ”okay, this is a start,” he nods, decisive. ”c’mon. let’s eat ’em by the couch.”

…

you narrow your eyes, suddenly suspicious. ”… hang on. have you had lunch yet?”

satoru gapes, as if in disbelief, barking out a soft, offended little scoff. ”really? you’re doubting me?”

”that’s not a yes.”

a pout forms on his lips. ”of course i have. who do you think i am?”

”oh yeah?” you give him a smile, a tiny raise of your brow. something in you knows that he’s lying. ”what’d you eat?”

”what is this, an interrogation?” he huffs. ”i’m a grown man. i can eat what i want!”

”not when i’m around,” you deadpan. then sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. ”satoru, you can’t eat a bunch of sweets for lunch. it’s not good for you.”

”so you can abandon me for hours, but i can’t have a little treat every once in a while? is that how it is?”

a roll of your eyes. you shift on your feet, letting out a low groan, and satoru has to reel in his growing smile. ”alright, drama queen. i get your point.” a moment passes, and you hum. ”… want me to make you something? or should i just order take out?”

satoru pouts, again, like a big huffy dog. ”babe, don’t you trust me? i’ve already had lunch. i got yakitori from the place downtown!”

”oh? you mean the yakitori place that’s closed on sundays?”

”huh. that’s weird,” he muses, smiling faintly. ”must’ve been some other place, then.” 

you give him an unamused look. he returns it with a vague upturn of his lips, completely unbothered.

a sigh.

”… i’ll order take out.”

”whatever you say, princess.”

you stifle a smile, and go digging for your phone, feeling your own stomach rumble a bit. in the midst of the banter, you almost forget what day it is. 

and satoru feels satisfied. you look a little more alive, now. a little more anchored to reality. as you call the takeout place of your choosing, he can even spot some earnest light in your eyes. he’s not exactly worried — but you did seem oddly stiff, just now, a little blurry. faded at the corners, like a dusty old polaroid.

and if there’s one thing satoru gojo can’t do, it’s leave you alone when he knows you need him.

satoru’s punishment for leaving him alone so long is swift and severe.

you’re seated in his lap, caged in by his long arms, and this time you know there’s no escaping them. even if you could, you wouldn’t dare to try. being caged in like this, warm and comfy in satoru’s embrace, isn’t really much of a punishment at all — even the kisses he has you press against his lips and jaw aren’t unwelcome, albeit a little embarrassing. he’s a merciful tyrant. 

but you can’t help but feel like you’re deceiving him. 

you still feel so lost, somehow, a murky sensation you can’t seem to shake off. and you know it’s because of your brain, because of the correlations it’s stitching and crocheting between today and her and you. 

it simply won’t let you be happy, today. 

you can’t help but feel a little greedy. ungrateful. even though you have your precious sun with you, even though you should feel warm, her absence hangs heavy on you. her continued absence, in your world, your life. a chill that rots your bones from the inside out. you know you’ll never get over it. you don’t ever want to get over it. it’s tough, though. 

you should be happy, snuggled into your boyfriend’s arms, but her sorrow clings to you. you should be mourning, but his arms feel so secure like this. no reaction feels right, no emotion warranted.

(you really are greedy, aren’t you?)

satoru chuckles, a sound both delighted and amused — snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. as always.

you’re watching a movie he likes, some cheesy old romcom. you really, really don’t understand his taste. but his commentary is always entertaining. judging by his cute little noise, someone just said something funny — funny to his standards, anyhow.

it’s too tempting to resist. you crane your neck, glancing up at him, wanting to see his face. from this angle, you can spot the blue of his eyes — beautiful and bright, flickering with splotches of pure white. they flit down to meet your own, gleaming with amusement.

”do i have something on my face, baby?” satoru chuckles, leaning forward to get a better look at you, all tucked against his chest. he grins, smooth, handsome; tailor-made to make you flustered. ”you’re staring at me real hard, there.”

(what a tease. 

unfortunately for him, you saw this one coming.)

”nah,” you show off a grin of your own, bubbly and teasing. ”you’re just pretty.”

he blinks. a few seconds passes by.

then a smile breaks out across his face. his eyes crinkle softly at the edges, like little petals, snowy bangs gliding against his skin when he tilts his head.

”oh?” he leans closer, hands still keeping you in place, making sure your gaze stays locked onto his. ”so forward. am i really that irresistible?”

there’s something soft in your eyes, something tender in the way your fingers go to touch his skin. a ghost of a caress, paired with your flimsy smile. you look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, breathing out an exhale. ”… i wouldn’t go that far.”

”aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he lets out a coo. ”come on — tell me i’m pretty again.”

”you liked that, huh?”

satoru flicks your forehead, no real strength behind it, so soft you barely feel it. there’s a certain reprimanding tilt to his voice, teasing as it is. ”be nice.”

he’s lucky you’re feeling too vulnerable to put up a fight. you turn around, to face him properly, squirming in his hold; reaching out to cup his handsome face.

”pretty boy,” you murmur, running your thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone. satoru grins, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you can spot earnest giddiness on his features — such a sucker for praise.

blindly, he searches for your other hand, bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, you notice, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. like every peck is a whispered psalm, a silent worship. but it’s light, it always has been — the weight of his boundless adoration. it’s not the heavy kind of love that gods give, not the one you hear about in stories, that always ends in death. satoru’s love isn’t crushing, and it isn’t suffocating. it’s delicate and careful, soft. it reminds you of how sunshine licks at your skin in the morning.

nothing more or less than one human being’s wholehearted love for another; giggles buzzing against your skin, crinkled eyes and mouthfuls of honey. blissful summer days.

(it reminds you of her, but it’s also something entirely different. something you can only ever make sense of when you think of the sun. when every single corner of your home has been doused in sunshine.)

a moment passes. so, so intimate, unbroken by the grief inside your chest. balm to your fractured heart, smoothing across your jagged edges. satoru leans into your palm, into your touch, relishing in the affection you give him. like a bee to a flower, blooming, wilting.

a nagging need tugs at your heartstrings.

(you want to see him. up close.)

although a little unsure, you reach your hands out, slowly, delicately, like approaching a frightened fawn — eager to remove his shades. he makes no move to stop you, so you assume that it’s okay. his eyes flutter open, when you do, white lashes parting like a bird taking flight; crinkled at the corners, overflowing with warmth. like sunshine streaming in through the curtains of your childhood kitchen. 

your heartbeat stutters at the sight.

all you can do is stare. transfixed, losing yourself in their calming hue, drinking them in. you sigh; a soft, quiet little sound. ”you’re so pretty.”

…

satoru lets out a breath, tinged with laughter. his eyes are teasing, but warm even still. ”… am i, now?”

”mhm. the prettiest.”

he chokes back another chuckle. hoping you won’t notice the slight flush to his ears, the heat on the back of his neck. he’s grown skilled at keeping a poker face, even when you try to fluster him — but it’s harder when you’re not trying, when it comes to you so easily. when your words are honest.

just when he’s about to turn the tables on you, you duck your head under his jaw. nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling his cologne, craving his warmth, knowing how much it grounds you. 

that, and his eyes are just a little too beautiful to stare into for too long. they always see right through you, deep into your soul, into every little nook and cranny of your mind. that undivided attention makes you feel a little meek, like you’re bare and raw before him. like there’s nothing you can hide.

(something in your hollowed-out chest begins to crumble.)

falling silent, you absently fiddle with the hem of satoru’s shirt, resting your forehead against his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything. the room would be silent were it not for that cheesy romcom, still buzzing in the background — you think the main couple just got divorced, again. or did get they married? you can’t really keep track of the plot. you can’t keep track of much at all, right now.

satoru makes you too happy.

so happy you forget what day it is, forget you’re supposed to be mourning. sometimes, you forget she’s even gone at all. as if she’s resting on some summer field, outside of your vision, alive and well. 

but she isn’t. you can’t forget that.

guilt. how long has it been part of your life? you don’t know the answer. you’re not sure you want to know. most of the time, it’s all you can feel. guilt, because you’re sitting here, happy, with the love of your life — the most wonderful person you know. guilt, because you haven’t told him what’s going on, because you don’t trust him enough — even though you’d like to think you just don’t want to burden him. you don’t trust anyone enough to let them glimpse into your decaying chest. you’re afraid of the rot. you’re afraid it’ll mold his hand at the slightest touch.

guilt, guilt, guilt — because you’re lucky enough to meet such wonderful people, over and over again, and never quite manage to deserve them.

(having lost its moon, where does a star find solace?)

a hand begins to stroke your head. the weight is a comfort, reassuring, a jolt of warmth trickling down your spine. for a moment, it’s all you can feel.

(— in the warmth of the sun.)

”sleepy?” he murmurs, low and soft. a little teasing, mostly inquisitive, a calm lull of his tongue.

are you? you didn’t really notice, until now. things are starting to feel a little hazy, aren’t they? you feel comfortable, too comfortable, your body aching for a moment of rest, a chance to shut off. sleep, sleep, sleep. don’t think about anything anymore.

satoru notices your sleepy little breaths, the way you gradually soften under his touch, melt into his arms. so he continues to run his hand over your head, petting you gently — knowing it’ll coax you into resting. he’d like you to stay up and binge shows with him all night, but you seem awfully tired. just this once, he’ll let you sleep — the plot was starting to get boring, anyhow. the sequel’s way better.

”you can rest, baby,” he coos, with a gentle intonation. his voice buzzes in your ear. ”i’ve got you.”

(he’s got you.)

the words make you feel so horribly, awfully safe. you can already feel yourself drifting away. his hand smooths down your hair, and a yawn slips from your lips, and you’re just so, so tired. how nice it would be, for the day to end. to be able to forget, for another year.

yeah. how nice. 

you wonder why you don’t take the opportunity.

maybe it has something to do with satoru. with the way he seems to bring you back to reality so effortlessly, soothes you without even really trying. maybe it’s the way he bares himself in front of you, blue eyes on full display, allowing you to see every single part of him. 

maybe, it makes you want to do the same.

”… satoru?”

your voice sounds meek. tiny, unguarded. the man in question only hums, feeling you slump against his shoulder. ”hm?”

”today…” you trail off, unsure how to proceed. you can only think of a certain girl, a certain moon. the melancholy is almost overbearing; it pushes you over the edge. ”i went to a cemetery.”

satoru doesn’t respond. he gives you space to continue, never once halting the motion of his big hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. you gulp, trying to force your dry throat to make sounds.

”… my best friend is buried there. she died today. a couple years back… so i —” a coldness crawls under your skin, words hollow as they leave your lips.

”… you know.”

”yeah. i figured.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter, in surprise — you can’t see satoru’s face, with the way you’re pressed up against him, but you still look up.

what tipped him off, you wonder? 

you believe him. satoru has a way of seeing through you, one way or another, always more observant than you give him credit for. he’s tactful, in how he brings it up, and that slumbering maturity he tries to hide comes into view. there’s no judgement in his tone, no pity — only understanding.

”… oh,” is all you can mutter. dumbfounded.

”i’m sorry. about her.”

”don’t be,” you murmur, managing a soft shake of your head. ”i’m — i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just wanted to go there alone, and… deal with it? i guess.”

after a brief pause, you keep going. feeling so, so small. but satoru holds you so tenderly. a whisper slips past your lips, dripping with longing.

”… you’d have liked her.”

”what was she like?” comes his reply, instantaneous.

…

huh.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your mind spins in circles, but nothing happens. 

(what was she like?)

”… i really loved her.”

satoru lets out a breath. vaguely amused, but he isn’t smiling. his words have a kindness to them; an understanding, more than anything. ”that’s all, huh?”

a slight intake of breath.

— then you bring yourself to think of her.

you think of her face, how her lips curled up into a smile when you tripped over air, the splotches of sunlight reflecting off her white teeth. you think of her laughter, how it always echoed in your head, how she took your hand in hers when you were too scared to walk ahead alone — taking the first step so you wouldn’t have to. a whole human being, multifaceted, enough traits and quirks to fill the whole night sky.

your moon. your eurydice. the only one who understood you.

you loved her a lot.

”… when i was with her, even sitting around and doing nothing made me happy.” nostalgia seeps into the whisper, like warm honey clogging up your throat, choking you. ”just her being there made every day feel like a good one.”

satoru doesn’t say anything. but he holds you, and he doesn’t let go. even when your voice begins to waver.

”i guess that’s… how i’d describe her.” a small breath. then a smile, even smaller. rueful, but it’s there, and it means everything. ”i’d do anything to have that yesterday back.”

satoru stays silent. 

you’ve spoken about her, before. he knows some things. not a lot. he knows she’s important to you; the person who shaped you into who you are, your very best friend. he tries to picture her, inside his mind.

you let out a tiny sigh, your lungs feeling empty of air. ”… i’m sure you two would have gotten along.”

”yeah,” he hums, palm smoothing down your back. stifling the thought that threatens to sneak into his mind — you wouldn’t have gotten along with him, but i would’ve wanted you to. ”i’m sure we would have.”

it’s a little too sweet to be true. but it makes you happy, just to imagine that kind of reality — the two of them, together. satoru would tease her, and she’d ignore him, hiding a smile behind her palm. she’d warm up to him eventually. they’d bicker over who knew you best, and demand your own verdict — 

you’d smile, not saying a thing.

your voice has gotten a little shaky. it’s scary, opening yourself up for him to see; it feels a little like being sewn open. but you force yourself to keep going. satoru rubs your back through it all, soothingly.

(he’s so, so proud of you.)

”i was thinking…” you trail off, gaze fixed on satoru’s shirt, fingers gripping the smooth fabric. ”maybe, some time in the future — i mean, if you want to — you could… come with me? maybe?” 

silence.

”you don’t have to say yes. but if you do want to —”

”i do.” 

satoru’s voice is absolute. there isn’t any room for doubt; he makes sure of that. ”i’d like to meet her.”

… oh.

it was that easy, huh? 

(you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve him.)

”… okay,” you mumble, meekly, breath fanning over his skin. ”next year, then.”

satoru glances down at you. curled up against him, nearly sleeping, looking a lot less burdened than before — though there’s still a desperation in the way you lean into his touch, a silent terror, like you could drift away if he doesn’t keep you close. satoru wants to fix it. he wants to run his hands across your skin, stitch the scars life has left you with, even if his touch could never be as gentle as he’d like it to be. he wants to be tender.

but there’s no fixing grief. it lingers, always, no matter how much you try to scrub it away. even if you run a washcloth over your skin until it starts to bleed, the scent still remains. 

and there’s a sickening sense of comfort in the knowledge that it always will.

(there’s no getting rid of him, satoru knows. and deep down, he’s glad that it’s true.)

more than anything else — satoru is content. content in the knowledge that you trust him, that you can bring yourself to open up to him about something so personal. that you chose to tell him, even though he gave you a way out. something about it makes him feel almost overwhelmed with affection. the kind he can’t bear not to show you, the kind that makes him seek you out almost subconsciously; seeking out your touch, your laughter. the smile on your face.

and maybe, just maybe — it makes him want to be a little more open with you, too.

”yeah,” he murmurs, craning his neck to leave a kiss on the crown of your head. ”you can sleep, baby. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”

”… i’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” you whisper, suddenly. a little meek. ”i felt really bad.”

satoru chuckles. raspy, an amused little breath. ”you’re forgiven, honey,” he coos. ”just don’t do it again, hm? might break my heart.”

with a yawn, you loop your arms around his neck, nuzzling further into his warmth. fighting the urge to close your eyes. drowsiness washes over you all at once, as if it was waiting for you to get the last of your worries off your chest. ”… i love you.”

”i love you too,” comes his reply, a smile tugging at his lips. ”my sweet girl.”

it’s hard to resist the temptation. almost impossible, with how warm satoru feels, your eyes helplessly fluttering close. you were supposed to stay up with him — you haven’t even finished eating. and you didn’t finish his awful romcom. 

but he runs his hands over your head, and down your back, and it’s simply too hard to withstand the temptation. so you close your eyes, just for a second —

and that’s all it takes.

satoru keeps petting you, softly, until he’s sure you’re asleep, soft little breaths falling from your parted lips, drool slipping down your chin. he’ll forgive you for staining his shirt, just this once. with you in his lap, sound asleep, he feels himself soften — hands running down your back, rubbing circles into your skin. cradling you closer and closer, ensuring that you’re comfortable. taking a few sneaky pictures, that he’ll tease you about tomorrow — 

(though in reality, he just wants to be able to look at them whenever he wants.)

even while eating, romcom flickering on and on, all he can think about is you. how you look so pretty sleeping against him, how you trust him enough to let him see you at your lowest. how you trust him to take care of you, run his fingers across the scars etched into your soul. even if it does no good, even if his touch is clumsy at best — that act of trust alone sets his heart aflutter.

he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this happiness.

”well, here we are.”

satoru holds a bouquet of flowers in his arms, putting it down on the grave, crouching down next to you.

a sigh leaves your lips. 

”… this still feels a little surreal,” you admit, sparing a glance at the man to your left. ”sure you’re not a little freaked out?”

”nah. don’t mind me, just do your thing.”

”that’s… easier said than done,” you murmur, arranging the flowers for the grave. asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hydrangeas.

a hum buzzes in his throat. ”well, what do you usually do when you’re here?”

”i… talk to her, i guess…?” you gnaw at your bottom lip, turning your face away. you feel a little awkward, admitting it out loud, but if satoru finds it weird he’s frighteningly good at hiding it.

all he does is take a step back, as if giving space for your words to fit in. respectful, accommodating. so smooth you barely notice it. ”then talk.”

”… i can’t do that with you here.”

”eh? why not?”

”because — i just can’t, okay?” you let out a huff, averting your gaze, shying away from him. ”whatever. i’m just gonna do it in my head. she’ll have to manage.”

satoru turns his head, looking down at the city skyline below you as you clasp your hands together. when he looks back, he sees you mouthing something, no sound coming out — and decides to leave you be.

the grave is well kept. he wonders how many visits you’ve managed to sneak past him, in the years that he’s known you. he wonders if it’s supposed to feel this foreign, being here, staring down at something he knows must mean the world to you. the grave of your very best friend. someone who holds a piece of your heart, a side of you he never got to see. 

he’ll have to make a good first impression.

satoru clasps his hands together, too. and he speaks, silently, with no words; lips pursed in a tight line. 

(hi, there. it’s nice to meet you.)

it’s not like he has no experience of talking to the dead, himself. he’s more than acquainted with one-sided conversations, lonely visions of boys with black hair, men with sad smiles. framed by the setting sun.

so it doesn’t feel too odd. 

satoru talks. about this, about that. he tries to keep it professional. this is important to you, so by nature, it’s important to him. the conversation comes to a close, and he looks at the grave with an unreadable expression — hands still clasped in silent prayer.

(i promise to take care of them.)

a sniffle. 

satoru glances over at you, just as you turn away — trying to hide from him. but he knows. he’ll always, always know when you need him most. 

two strong arms curl around your waist, stabilizing you, anchoring you to earth. ”i’ve got you,” he whispers, and you fall into his embrace. allowing him to pick up the pieces, to put you back together. ”i’ve got you.”

”i —” your voice breaks apart, crumbles into stardust, a shuddering breath that escapes from the back of your throat. there’s nothing to see through your tears. ”i miss her so much.”

satoru cradles you close to his chest, tucking you under his chin. ”i know,” he soothes. your little sobs leave his heart with a bitter feeling, and he wishes he could make them disappear; but he knows you need this. 

when he holds you, something brushes against the fabric of your clothing. the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. something alive, deep within his chest, something for you to ground yourself with. and you know it was intentional, on his part — the decision to press your hearts together, a promise he doesn’t have to find the words for, because you know.

(stay alive for me. i’ll stay alive for you.

when you can’t breathe properly, i’ll be here to do it for you.)

your tears stain his brand-new coat, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is you, the fact that you’re crying, how to properly comfort you. it’s new to him, all of it, everything about you is just so new and he’s so afraid of messing it all up again —

but he holds you close. murmuring, right by your ear, endless sweet nothings. he waits for you to get it all out of your system, and he doesn’t let you go.

when you finally collect yourself, thoroughly tired out, eyes red and puffy — satoru smiles. it’s brighter than the sun, positively life-envoking. it gives you something to hold on to. he parts his lips.

”thank you for bringing me here.”

a shake of your head. soft, as he thumbs away your tears, one by one. ”thank you for coming with me,” you smile, small as it is, holding onto his hands. feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of his palm.

after saying your farewells, and promising to come back next year, the two of you begin your trek down the mountain trail. hand in hand. it’s mostly silent, but not at all in a bad way. satoru knows when to be serious, and when not to be. today, he knows you’re especially fragile — he wouldn’t dare overstep.

(especially when he knows your pain so well.)

”hey,” you break the silence. ”thank you, really. for… well, everything.”

satoru brushes you off, with a light squeeze of your hand. ”don’t mention it. i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i?”

”it’s not about that,” you chuckle, an embarrassed smile on your lips. ”just… thank you for existing, i guess. i love you a lot.” 

…

satoru hums.

if he were any other person, maybe he’d respond with something just as sincere — something to let you know exactly how much you mean to him, how you make his world brighter just by being in it. how you mend scars he didn’t even know he had, as effortlessly as brushing a strand of hair away from your face. how you remind him of a certain boy, but also something entirely different; a love so light it makes him feel human.

but he’s satoru gojo — and so he has to do things in a more roundabout way.

”hey,” he starts, with a soft click of his tongue. ”next christmas. are you free?”

you blink up at him, with a tilt of your head. ”… of course. we always do something on christmas, right?”

”no, i don’t mean that.”

another tilt of your head. satoru hums, low and contemplative, humming quietly.

”eh,” he flicks his hand, waving you off. ”you’ll see.”

”… okay?”

silently, you study his expression, hoping to find some sort of hint that’ll give away the meaning of his words. you can’t find anything except a carefree smile, his eyes still obscured by his shades — hidden from you and the rest of the ghosts.

you suppose it doesn’t really matter. satoru seems happy; and, really, that’s all you could ask for. 

so you only tug him closer, greedy for his warmth, basking in the feeling of it enveloping you. protecting you from the chilly air. 

satoru closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

(a boy with black hair smiles behind his eyelids.)

[sanguineterrain]

in your hands | jason todd

Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.

A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)

the divider

Tonight, Jason comes home far away.

You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits. 

You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in. 

“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”

The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.

He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.

“Did I disappear?” he whispers.

“Little bit. It’s okay.”

You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple. 

“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist. 

You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?” 

“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”

“No, Jay. C’mon.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does. 

You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red. 

“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”

His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles. 

Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. 

“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”

He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.

“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”

You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat. 

You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still. 

“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”

Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.

You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is. 

When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.

“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”

You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”

“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”

“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”

His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar. 

“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake. 

“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”

He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”

You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”

“Too big for it,” he rasps.

You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”

“I’m s-scary.”

You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.

“You don’t scare me. You never have.”

He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can. 

“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”

“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”

“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”

He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more. 

“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.

He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.

You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.

“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”

[miffysrambles]

Hello! I love your headcannons! What are your headcannons for when S/O is gravely injured? Like, the S/O is fighting against some demons along with MK, Wukong and Macaque and they get very seriously injured, to the point of passing out. What would their reactions be?

Wukong, Macaque, and MK With a Gravely Injured S/O

(This one took a bit, sorry about that!)

Wukong:

Oh, he is livid.

He shouts at MK to take you somewhere safe, as far away from his location as the boy could go.

“Get them out of here kid, get them help! I’ll handle this!”

He needs to beat some sense into this bastard, right here and right now.

Uses almost every single one of his powers to strike the demon, soon enough scaring them off into never hurting you or even going near you again.

Grabs them by the collar as they fall to the ground, bearing his fangs as speaks through his teeth. 

“If I see you even stand close to that mortal ever again, I will not hesitate to kill you next time…”

Eventually travels back to you and MK on his cloud, finding the both of you in your apartment as the noodle boy patches you up.

He sends MK home, ensuring you’ll be ok.

“Don’t worry bud, they’ll be fine. Get some rest, ya earned it.”

He sits down next to you on the couch as he lays your head in his lap.

His fingers intertwine with your hair, his other hand caressing your face as you rest from the intensity of your wounds.

He stays like this for quite some time, maybe even hours as he does not dare to move a muscle.

His heart skips a beat as you shift awake, smiling up at him as you regain consciousness.

He smiles back at you, it might have been the fact you were still a bit tired but you swear you could see small tears in his eyes.

“Peaches, oh thank Gods! It’s ok! You’re ok, you’re safe…”

He wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and cover your gorgeous face in kisses but does not want to move you when you’re in pain.

Soon enough when you’re ready to move he does just that, laying you on his chest as he presses soft kisses all over your face.

He holds you close as if you were about to disappear any second, you’re guessing he really was scared today -which is super rare.-

“I love you, oh I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Macaque:

His first instinct is to get you the hell out of there. 

As soon as his six ears hear your breath falter, he pulls you through into the shadows and gets you both out of the fight.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit! You're going to be okay sweet cheeks, don’t close your eyes on me. Keep those gorgeous eyes open.”

He falls into his living room with you in his arms, frantically kissing your forehead as he sets you down on the couch. 

He’s scrambling through his dojo to find stuff to patch up your wounds, he doesn’t have much because, well, he’s immortal.

After patching you up, –which is sloppily done by his shaking fingers–, he leaves you alone to rest.

“Gods damnit!” He punches a hole through the wall of the dojo, taking his rage out on the crumbling drywall. 

He needs to direct his anger towards something else before the entire building falls.

And luckily for him, he has just the target.

Oh, the demon didn’t win like they thought they did, not even close.

As soon as Macaque sees they let their guard down, he emerges from the shadows to summon his smoke monster.

It grabs the demon within its giant grasp as it forces them into the gravel below, crushing them with its sheer force.

“So! Do you really think you got away with hurting that mortal? Big mistake on your part…”

After beating the demon to a pulp, he travels back to you through the shadows.

You open your eyes to see him land on the living room floor, his ears perking up from the sound of your breath hitching as he rushes to your side. 

You smile up at him through your pain, your bandages wrapped a little too tight.

“Macaque? I love you and appreciate it so much but you tied these a little too tight…”

He blinks in surprise as he reapplies the white strips on your wounds, smiling as he kisses your nose.

“Heh, sorry about that starshine. Glad you’re ok…”

MK:

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your bright bubbly boyfriend so angry.

In fact, he is beyond furious.

To the point, he turns into his monkey form and beats the demon into a pulp. 

Pigsy and Sandy were helping you stand as you stared at the sight in front of you, MK glowing a bright gold color as the two flew through the sky so fast you couldn’t keep your eyes up with them.

At one point, the demon tried to teleport away but MK was two steps ahead as he reached his arm out and grabbed them by the collar.

“Hey! Who– Said– I– Was– Done with you yet!”

He was throwing the demon around the mountains in between his words, finally, the demon was defeated as Mk ran up to you.

“(Name)! Oh, please be ok!” He wraps his arms around you, earning a gasp of pain from you.

“Careful kid, they’re hurt bad…” Pigsy put his hands up to warn your worried boyfriend.

“Right, right. Come on, let’s get them home.”

MK scooped you up in his arms as he carried you to your apartment, using the key that you gave him to set you down on the couch.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some bandages.”

He kissed your forehead as he left the room, coming back with white gauze and a waterproof marker.

You raised your eyebrow at the marker, earning a small smile from him as he slightly laughed.

“I was gonna draw on your bandages, add a little happy touch to the sadness!”

You laughed softly, nodding at the idea.

“Sounds fun, let's do it.”

He beamed as he applied the white strips, drawing various doodles on your bandages such as a doodle of the two of you kissing, one of the Monkey King (of course), and little hearts and stars everywhere.

You smiled as he held up his phone camera to you so you could see, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you babes, I look so colorful!’

His cheeks flushed red as he kissed your cheeks several times in return, “Of course, I think you look goood! I’m so glad you’re feeling better sweetie”

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fifteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: ANGST... that's about the only major warning I can think of

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jurian and Vassa took the attic and became scarce, but when night and day slid into one another you still heard her painful screams, muffled as they were by the magic that encased their room. It was a feeling more than anything else. A tension that gripped the House until it seemed to be sobbing. At sunrise and sunset without fail, Vassa’s body broke and rearranged itself, flesh turning to feathers and feathers to flesh. Before it had been a painless process where her body came and went in its various forms, but no longer. Now she felt everything alongside an itch deep within her bones that couldn’t be satiated by food or drink or anything else. 

Go to the lake! Her body screamed. Go to Koschei! And then punished her when she didn’t comply. Like a beast had sunk its claws into her flesh, its waiting mouth only inches away from snapping. To stay away was a slow, agonizing march to death. To move close would be swift, but final, and somehow Vassa knew that if she gave into Koschei’s call, she would be lost forever.

You lingered at the base of the attic's staircase, your bare feet sinking into the soft rug until the sounds of cracking bones finally ceased. Three pairs of feet shuffled above your head and you heard Jurian’s faint whispers like a gentle push of air. When the door opened and Lucien emerged, you saw Vassa crumpled on the floor, now a bone-thin woman with dull, coppery hair and skin ravaged by scratches and pockmarks. 

“Shhhh. It’s ok.” Jurian whispered, encasing her in his arms. 

“I can’t,” her voice trembled. “It hurts. I-I-I’m burning.” 

“Y/n?” Lucien frowned. The door slammed shut with a bang and you jumped backwards. You clutched a velvet pouch close to your chest and then slowly held it out to Lucien. 

“It’s for Vassa,” you explained, trying to keep your eyes on his mismatched ones — one russet as river stones, one gold like the sun. He opened the bag and stared in confusion at the fine, white powder within, giving it a tentative sniff. “Morphine. Humans use it for pain.” 

“I know of it.” Lucien’s frown deepened. “They get addicted. Take too much and they die.” 

“She’s already addicted. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? Koschei’s drawing his power away to get her to return to the lake and every day that passes she’s dying.” Lucien tightened his fists around the bag, still skeptical. Vassa had endured enough. He didn’t want to have her endure this either. “The bag is enchanted and will never allow her to draw too much. Just enough to calm her hunger. If we’re lucky it might help her sleep too.” 

Lucien stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists from around the gold drawstring, waiting for Vassa’s cries to cease. But they never did. And there you were standing in front of him, unwavering and expectant. There was a glimmer of stubbornness in your gaze. A sign of the hours you’d spent researching Vassa’s condition and acquiring the strange human drug, and your disapproval if Lucien didn’t accept it. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered, “But please go. Vassa hates for anyone to see her like this. Even Jurian and I.” 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as you could. The next morning when the sun rose over the mountains and Vassa changed, you heard only the House’s usual breathings. 

The House buckled under the weight of the Inner Circle’s secrets and the sheer volume of history that had occurred within its walls and between its occupants. It utilized its magic in clever ways — your door opened with a creak that wasn’t there before so that Azriel would always hear your comings and goings. Lucien would suddenly find his door locked and the curtains drawn on the days when Helion made surprise visits to see Y/n. Nyx would find himself ushered around by a broomstick that swatted his ankles when the adults were discussing private matters. It was all a great deal of work. 

So it was a relief when Rhys and Feyre quietly moved their children to the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian, and when Mor and Emerie took the final steps in emptying their rooms and went to hide out in their city apartment. It was even more of a relief when Helion returned to the Day Court, but not before throwing a heavy threat in Azriel’s face that if he should ever hurt his daughter again in any way, shape, or form, he’d strip the wings off his back. 

Meals at the House were tense, quiet affairs, something not even Feyre, Elain, and Nesta’s sisterly conversations or Cassian’s light-hearted humor could ease. Elain stayed close to Lucien’s side, one hand always on his arm or resting against his back or brushing against his, but that didn’t erase what the Blood Duel had done to his trust in Elain. He was kind, but guarded, especially when Azriel was in the room. But it was more than she could ask for because it was more than she’d ever given him in the beginning. 

You and Azriel were worse off.

You were speaking once more, but your words were always laced with a bit of apprehension and Azriel’s were always filled with sorrowful hope. Conversations were dull, short, and didn’t even begin to brush the surface of all the things you should have been talking about. You were terrified not of the Shadowsinger, but of his opinion of you. Did he want you so he could fix you? So that he could feel needed? So that you could be another one in a list of females he burned through? 

It never truly seemed like that was the case, but you also didn’t trust yourself when it came to your emotions. You had told him once that you couldn’t imagine having a love like Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Nesta and Cassian’s, and you still meant it. You were a matchstick and he was flint, and you didn’t know what would happen to you after he had lit you aflame. For all you knew, you were already burning and this wonderful thing you’d had with Azriel would live and die with nothing more than the memory of an embrace in Rhysand’s office to show for it. 

But oh how you ached to touch him again. To hold him like you had before and to have him return the gesture just as strongly. 

You stiffened when Azriel’s hand brushed your arm, warmth bursting out from the point of contact. 

“I’m sorry.” Azriel whispered, and he was talking about more than the wine he spilled when he reached over the table.

You spared him a glance, the first real look you’d given him in two weeks. The flagon slipped from his hands, and if it weren’t for his shadows catching it an inch above the floor, the room would have been doused in burgundy red. 

“Does Lucien know?” 

Rhysand looked up from his papers. Missives from the Darkbringer army and Illyrian troops up north clogged his desk, all begrudgingly accepting his orders to prepare for what could amount to another lengthy war. Letters thrown back and forth between the seven courts added to the chaos, all of them war-weary and desperate for a path that wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. 

You took up the center of his room and stood so quietly he hadn’t even noticed you until you spoke. It had been eating away at you for days since Lucien’s arrival. Every time you two saw one another or spoke, you tried to scrounge for clues that would reveal whether he knew he was Helion’s son and whether he might suspect you were Helion’s daughter as well. The other members of the Inner Circle had been tight-lipped about that secret, a skill you now knew they all possessed with alarming dexterity. 

“Does Lucien know he’s Helion’s son?”

Rhysand slumped back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one careful hand. Finally he said, “Yes.” 

The answer knocked the breath from your lungs. You’d been expecting the opposite. “Does he… does he know about me?” 

Rhys sighed and shook his head. You didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“How long has he known?” 

“Six years. Feyre was the one to tell him. She was actually the first of us to recognize the similarity, believe it or not. But then, no one ever dared to give weight to the rumors surrounding Helion and Aurelia Vanserra while Beron was alive.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet, breath shaking as it entered your body. “Six years. Six years and you never thought to tell Helion that he has a son? I thought you two were friends?”

Rhysand tensed. “I’m Lucien’s friend as well and he begged us to never speak of it - to live as though we’d never learned that secret. And I keep my secrets. We all do.” 

“You and your family have made that very clear in the time that I’ve been here.” 

“If you mean Azriel—”

“Don’t play dumb, Rhys, you know I’m talking about him.” Tears pricked at your eyes, adding to the humiliation that had coated you like a film ever since you’d seen his memories about Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. “I don’t—” You swallowed thickly, “I can imagine how you must have all been whispering behind my back about Azriel and I. How you must have found it so pathetic the way he charmed me when I was really his fourth choice.”

“That’s not true.” Was what Rhysand was going to say. But he didn’t need to. Azriel said it for him. 

Your face lost all color, any bravado melting away at the feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles like ribbons of silk. You could feel him in the room and that quiet darkness he carried around with him as inherently as if it were stitched onto his body. 

Azriel was shaking. Shaking. With anger, turmoil, or grief — you couldn’t name it. All you knew is that one moment you were standing in Rhysand’s office, all velvet upholstery and suave, expensive taste, and the next you were in Azriel’s room. 

Everything smelled like mountain air. Maybe it was the gothic windows that stretched into the vaulted ceilings, stained glass opening out onto a personal balcony with deep blue curtains fluttering in the breeze. But you were sure that even with the windows barred it would smell the same. It would smell like Azriel. If you threw open his wardrobe you’d come face to face with a wall of black. Lots and lots of black. Black suits he hardly ever wore. Black fighting leathers. Black leather jackets for everyday. Black trousers. Black boots on the floor. Very practical. Very Azriel. 

If you dug through his dresser drawers you’d find black boxers and socks to match and no shortage of knives and daggers hidden behind wooden planks or in leather sleeves nailed to the bottom of his desk. But at first glance you only saw three weapons in plain view — Truth Teller, blade down and stuck in the wood grain of his desk beside a pile of reports, and two obsidian blades hanging from the wall beside his midnight blue bed in the shape of an “x.” 

The smell — Azriel’s smell — calmed you, at least up to the point where you turned to find him standing less than six inches away, hazel eyes boring into yours. Then your pulse skyrocketed. You were certain that if he only looked down to your heart he’d see it pounding against your chest like a drum skin ready to burst. 

“That’s not true,” he repeated earnestly. “And don’t you dare believe it. Not even for a second.” 

His eyes jumped back and forth between yours and before he could stop himself, his hands were grasping yours in a gentle hold. The leather gloves were soft and supple beneath your fingertips. You wanted to rip them off so you could feel his scarred hands again. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small. That angry humiliation went up in a puff of smoke and left you shy and uncertain. 

Azriel gripped your hands a little tighter and you watched as tendrils of shadow worked their way up your arms and got lost in your hair. “But I did,” he said breathlessly, “And I need you to know that it’s not true.” 

“Azriel—”

“I know—” he was shaking his head, “I know what Helion said and I won’t lie and tell you that I’m perfect or that I’ve made any smart decisions about love in the past — I’ve not make a single one — but… but Y/n you’re not a fourth choice. You’re not something broken that I’m trying to fix or some fantasy I’ve fallen for.”

His hands shook and despite the gloves his hands still felt sticky and wet. Slick with your blood. The burning scent of iron in his nose.

“You’re the most real thing in the world to me. You’re—” You’re my mate. The words crawled up his throat like acid and it just felt wrong. He would say those words to you. He would. But not now. Not like this. He came up with something else. “Y/n, please tell me you believe me. Please.”

And there you were. Falling all over again. Burning like a matchstick on fire. The flames slowly eating away at you bit by bit. You wondered what would happen when you finally hit the ground, or when you ran out of length. Would he still hold you like this? Would you still feel real to him? 

“How am I meant to know, Azriel?” 

You’d always been good at books. You knew the ways in which these stories worked where the themes and plot points had been preordained and written with the purpose of being tied up in a neat package by the final page. People were very different. They were unpredictable and chaotic and they could lie through the skin of their teeth and believe they were telling the truth. And that was the problem wasn’t it? Because you still believed every word that came out of Azriel’s mouth, and his hands still felt like they were keeping you tethered to this earth when sometimes your powers and the memories that came with them made you feel like a whisper on the wind. Weightless and at the mercy of something you couldn’t control. 

“You can trust me. You can know for yourself.” 

He pressed your hand against his cheek and you wanted to cry at the faint pricks of stubble beneath your skin and the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He wanted you to use your power on him. He wanted you to learn all the ways he wanted you. All the ways he loved you.  

But you couldn’t do it. 

Azriel panicked when you remained silent, staring at him and at his hands like you were frightened. All at once he was back on the streets of Velaris, cobblestones shaving away at the skin of his palms as he dragged his way up to you inch by bloody inch, fighting against a body that was too broken to move. 

He couldn’t remember what it felt like when he’d stabbed you through the chest and dropped you on the street. Everything between the moment he saw Andrian’s clear-cut eyes to the moment he saw Rhysand’s horrified gaze was fuzzy and dark. But that made it worse because now in his nightmares he could imagine all the ways he’d hurt you, each version teeming with the same level of horror and possibility as the previous one. 

He let you go and hated himself when you stepped back, your hand slipping away. 

“I won’t… I won’t hurt you again, Y/n. I swear on my life. I’ll-I’ll make a bargain, I don’t care. I would sooner die than let something like that happen again.” 

I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.

“Y/n, please.”

 I am not broken. But I am afraid. 

You fled from his bedroom. 

The air had a bite to it now with winter descending. The snow line on the mountains dipped lower and lower each day, creeping like ivy down a brick wall. 

Elain never wore gloves. Not when she was gardening. It was something she and Ione had in common. She liked the feeling of her strong hands, the callouses on her palms and fingers that she’d earned all on her own. She grunted, slamming her shovel into the soil and feeling the microscopic chips of ice give way when she kicked down on the blade. It was too late in the season to be planting tulip bulbs. If she’d been in Velaris she would have done this four weeks ago. But it was alright with her. She knew the value of hard work, and she had enough hope for the future to believe that even though she was late, she’d have something beautiful to call hers come springtime. 

“It’s time for that conversation I was telling you about,” she said cryptically, as was her way. 

Lucien dropped the final basket beside where Elain now knelt in the dirt, her pale pink dress dirtied and littered with her own handprints. The brown bulbs rolled around like oversized chestnuts, the kind that he’d be roasting over a fire right now if he were still in Autumn Court. Instead he was here, lingering in a Court that had never felt like home. Then again… he’d never felt at home in Autumn, Spring, or the Human Lands either. 

He straightened up and wiped his hands clean on his trousers, golden and russet eyes trailing over the River House’s grounds for this mysterious person he was meant to speak to.

There. 

The faint swishing of black robes behind a dark green topiary tree. He should have known Elain had been talking about you. 

You cracked your knuckles and rehearsed the words you’d scribbled out earlier that day and then set to fire in a maddening loop. You’d been restless with the truth of Lucien’s parentage and you couldn’t believe that the others had held their tongues so readily. As it was, without Azriel’s company to help quiet your mind, you’d dug into this new piece of information like a starving animal and couldn’t let go.

Was this a good time to tell him? Would there ever be a good time to tell him? You had no idea. 

Somewhere in the attic, you knew Vassa was itching to take to the skies like the burning comet she was. Every night she shivered in Jurian’s arms, the morphine barely able to take the edge off the humming in her bones, and every morning she let him lock her away in her cage. It was getting worse and worse trying to keep her from succumbing to Koschei’s influence. Even now you thought you could hear her keen cries whistling from the attic like ten thousand arrows launched into the air. 

Somewhere else, in a secret, hidden place you knew nothing about, Andrian had finally been imprisoned. Andrian with his bent neck and silver, candy-floss hair and bloody little hands. 

You shivered and jumped back five feet when Lucien called your name, kind eyes narrowed in concern. His shirt was loose and open and the sweat on his body rose like mist off his skin. He was his mother’s son first, Helion’s child second, and fire still ran through his veins. The chill did not touch him. 

He tipped his head to the side, red hair spilling out from the messy way he’d tied it up and away from his face. A brutal scar ran through his eye like a fissure, starting at the center of his brow before clawing its way down his jaw like a lightning strike frozen in time. But for all the cruelty he’d been dealt with in life, his eyes were gentle, even the mechanical one that whirred and flashed in the sun. 

They were even kinder when he looked at you. You with your inquisitive gaze and curious nature, like a stray cat that couldn’t help but linger too long at doorways. One foot inside, one foot ready to run and hide. He’d caught you watching him at dinners, and he’d catch himself staring when you walked around the house with a book in your hand, so utterly absorbed that you would bump against doorways and bang your hips against sharp corners. 

“Elain told me about you. Did you know that?” 

You blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“Elain… Elain doesn’t always speak clearly. Much of what comes out of her mouth can feel eerie or discomforting. But, she told me before we left for the Night Court that I would be happy I came. That I would never regret the things I learned on my trip.” He tilted his head even further, looking more and more like a fox with each turn of his face. “And she mentioned a bird. A bird with ink-tipped wings and eyes like a crow.” 

You flexed your fingers, well aware that the tips were smudged with ink, the nails bitten down to the quick. 

“Someone clever and cautious who’d been hidden away their whole life and needed to see the sun.” 

You felt stripped bare. That strange vulnerability that comes with being summed up in so few words had you feeling airy. Like one sentence could be enough to carry the weight of the three centuries you’d lived and never buckle. 

“I know you’re Helion’s son. I recognized it the moment I saw you.” 

Lucien stepped back, scarlet brows shooting up into his hair with alarm.

You hesitated, then continued on cautiously. “I recognized it because I would know my father’s face anywhere.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I KNOW IT'S A CLIFFHANGER ENDING BUT I NEEDED TO BREAK EVERYTHING INTO CHAPTERS SOMEWHERE AND I'M GOING TO TRY AND GET CHAPTER 16 UP BY WEDNESDAY SO I DON'T LEAVE Y'ALL HANGING FOR TOO LONG. HAVE MERCY!!!

The good news is that Chapter 16 is already mostly written, I just need to edit it all to make sure things flow smoothly. Also, LUCIEN KNOWS NOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry for the Azriel angst... but it's delicious, no?

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”