#not tagging this with the other one because like hell do i want this in the ship tags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

actuallybean · 3 days ago

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Truth Hurts* | Part Three

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Four Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @hail-brod @s1mplyl0vely @ladykitana90 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @jenniferpendragon Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You stared at them—Dean at the foot of the bed, Sam beside him, both standing like the weight of your confession had knocked something loose inside them. They weren’t laughing. They weren’t teasing. They weren’t running.

They were quiet. And still. And far too serious.

Dean’s eyes searched yours, that usual cocky glint gone—what remained was heat, yes, but also something more complex. Reverence. Regret. Longing.

“You think I didn’t notice how you look at us?” he said finally, voice low. “I did. Hell, I noticed it so long ago, I thought I made it up.”

Your mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t give you the space to interrupt.

“I’d hear you shower at night in those godawful motels after a hunt, and I’d be lying in my bed staring at the ceiling, fists clenched, because if I let myself think about it too hard, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He took a breath, like even saying it now took effort. “I’ve dreamed about you in my bed. Your hands in my hair. Your voice whispering my name while Sam’s got his hands on you too. I’ve wanted that. Us. Not just one. All three.”

Your heart stopped.

Sam’s jaw clenched. He looked torn between pacing and falling to his knees. “I thought it was selfish,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Wanting you and knowing Dean wanted you too. So I buried it. We both did. I figured if either of us tried anything, we’d wreck everything. You’d feel like you had to choose.”

His gaze locked with yours, dark and aching. “But when you confessed just now… it didn’t sound like something you were afraid of. It sounded like something you needed.”

Your breath hitched.

“I do,” you whispered. “I tried to stop it. I thought it was just a crush at first, but… it’s more. So much more.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, voice ragged. “You’re in my goddamn blood, sweetheart. I see your shampoo bottle in the bathroom, and I think about what it’d be like to have you in my bed for real. Not just once. Not as a mistake. Ours.”

Sam stepped closer, slowly, carefully—his gentleness always the counterpoint to Dean’s fire. “We can’t undo this. But maybe we don’t have to.”

You looked between them—Dean, burning and intense, and Sam, deep and steady like a current beneath your skin.

“Are you saying…” You swallowed, voice small. “You’d… share me?”

Dean arched a brow. “I’m saying we already have been, emotionally. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Sam’s lips curved in a small, half-pained smile. “Maybe it’s time we stop pretending we don’t all feel the same thing.”

You let out a shaky breath, every nerve lit with impossible relief and deep, thrumming desire. “This isn’t just the curse talking. I’ve wanted this. For so long.”

“We know,” Dean said, stepping closer now, enough to gently tug the hem of the shirt you wore—his shirt. “But now you’ve said it. And I don’t want to keep pretending I haven’t wanted it too.”

You reached for his wrist, grounding yourself—and your other hand reached for Sam. He took it without hesitation, fingers curling tightly into yours.

There it was.

Truth.

Raw and open and impossibly fragile.

But in that moment, none of you were afraid of it anymore.

✦

The silence after the confessions wasn't awkward—it was electric. A delicate, trembling sort of quiet that felt more like standing at the edge of something huge than something broken.

Dean hadn't moved, still watching from the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest, lips pursed—but not with judgment. His eyes were molten, dark with a hunger he wasn't bothering to hide anymore, but something else swam beneath it too. He was waiting.

Waiting for you.

Waiting for Sam.

And Sam—God, Sam looked like someone had handed him a fragile thing he never thought he’d deserve. His thumb brushed across the back of your hand, gentle, reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you. His eyes flicked to yours, and then he stepped closer, kneeling on the bed in front of you like it was instinct.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to do this,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered just beside your ear, his palm barely grazing your cheek. “Just… be this close. Without fear. Without hiding it.”

You couldn’t look away from him. Not with his eyes like that—gentle, unflinching, full of quiet devotion. Sam never needed to raise his voice to make you feel like you were seen. It was just the way he looked at you, like you were made of stars and time and everything he could never bring himself to ask for.

“You’ve always looked at me like that,” you murmured, voice shaking.

He smiled, small and sad. “And you’ve always looked away.”

You nodded, blinking rapidly. “I thought I’d imagined it. That I was projecting. Or hoping too hard.”

Sam’s voice dropped, low and gravel-warm. “You weren’t.”

He leaned in just a bit, enough that his forehead touched yours, and the breath you didn’t realize you were holding stuttered in your chest. His hand cupped your jaw now, thumb skimming your cheekbone.

“I love how brave you are,” he whispered. “How you fight even when you’re scared. How you laugh at Dean’s worst jokes and still roll your eyes like you’re above it. How you hold yourself together after every goddamn hunt like the world didn’t almost break you.”

Your throat tightened. “Sam…”

His lips almost brushed yours—but stopped. Hovering.

“I think I started falling in love with you the first time you patched me up without flinching,” he murmured. “You didn’t even blink. You just held me.”

You leaned in, your nose brushing his. “I remember. You were shaking. I thought you were gonna pass out.”

He smiled against your skin. “I almost did. You were holding my ribs and I was trying not to imagine what your hands would feel like on my hips.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh—and then a small gasp when Sam finally kissed you.

It wasn’t desperate or rough. It was slow, sure. Patient. Like he’d waited long enough and didn’t need to rush now that you were here, really here. His lips moved with yours like he already knew your rhythm, already knew how to read every inhale and tremble.

Behind you, you felt the mattress shift. Dean had come closer, sitting on the edge now, saying nothing—but his presence felt like heat at your back, grounding and heavy.

Sam pulled back only slightly, his forehead pressed against yours again. “If we do this… it’s all in. No games. No halfway.”

You nodded. “I don’t want halfway. Not with either of you.”

Dean’s voice was low, warm. “Then come here, sweetheart. Let me touch you too.”

But Sam didn’t let go of your hand.

And you didn’t want him to.

Not yet.

Not while his touch still trembled like this—like he'd waited forever and was afraid you'd disappear again.

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ashthesalamipiece · 3 days ago

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“Private Time, Public Problem”

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Female Reader (mentioned)

Setting: Bakugo family home

Rating: Explicit / NSFW / Humor

Tags: Masturbation (m), being walked in on, awkward family interaction, dirty talk (to himself), flustered Bakugo, Mitsuki chaos, Masaru chillness, teasing, post-scene fluff

A/n, I made two versions of this because i couldnt decide which one i should use so i will be posting both♡

---

Katsuki didn’t mean to do it in broad daylight. Really, he didn’t.

But you had sent him a picture. A cruel one. Lying in his hoodie, no bra, those soft thighs on full display as you bit your lower lip and captioned it: “Thinking about how good your tongue feels, baby.”

It was a goddamn miracle he didn’t bust immediately.

So yeah—he’d locked the door, yanked the comforter over his lap, shoved his sweatpants down, and let the fantasy take over. His back rested against the headboard, thighs tense, one hand gripping the base of his cock while the other ran up his abs and over his chest. He imagined your mouth, your little moans, your teasing giggles as you rode him slow—

“KATSUKI! I GOT THE STUFF FOR DINNER!”

He paused mid-stroke. “Fuck, Mom—!”

Before he could shout for her to stop:

The door. Opened. Wide.

“DO YOU WANT STIR-FR—”

“MOM!” Katsuki roared, jerking the blanket up to cover himself, red-faced and mid-erection. His hand was still half under it. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

Mitsuki Bakugo stood frozen in the doorway.

Behind her, Masaru peeked past her shoulder, blinked, and muttered, “Oh. Huh.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

Except for the squish of the lotion bottle Katsuki had definitely knocked over in the panic.

Mitsuki looked down. Saw the bottle. Saw the tent.

Covered her face.

“OH FOR FK’S SAKE, KATSUKI—THIS IS WHY PEOPLE KNOCK!”**

“THIS IS WHY YOU KNOCK!” he bellowed, voice cracking. “GET OUT!”

Masaru calmly pulled Mitsuki back by the elbow. “Let’s give him a few minutes.”

“‘A FEW MINUTES’?!” Mitsuki screamed as Masaru tugged her out the door. “He’s in here cranking it like a damn howler monkey, and you want to—?!”

SLAM.

The door finally closed.

Katsuki sat there for a long moment, mortified beyond all reason, his cock still half-hard and weeping.

“…I’m never living again,” he muttered.

He threw a pillow over his face.

From the hallway, Mitsuki’s voice echoed:

“AND CLEAN THAT DAMN BLANKET! I’M NOT DOING YOUR LAUNDRY ANYMORE IF IT’S FULL OF—”

“SHUT UP, MOM!”

---

Later that night…

You: “Hey, you okay? You kinda stopped answering after I sent that pic.”

Bakugo: “Don’t. Ask.”

You: “…Did your mom walk in again?”

Bakugo: “...WITH MY DICK IN HAND, WOMAN. I’M DEAD.”

You: “...so did you finish or…?”

Bakugo: “I hate you.”

#my hero academia #reader #mha x reader #bhna #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #funny #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader

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livesbetweenpages · 7 hours ago

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Okay @ballroomeddie had me thinking of tags I made about the differences between the s3 and s8 fights. This is kinda long but here goes.

In s3 they knew each other significantly less but Buck wasn’t afraid to/of the fight. Compared with s8, when they know each other significantly better and their relationship with each other is stronger than ever (esp kitchen fight, bc they proved distance doesn’t keep them apart). Yet it’s like Buck doesn’t know how to fight with Eddie anymore. Which is something considering he’s the most likely to react in anger and/or defensiveness than anyone.

IMO the s3 fight is arguably (more) Buck’s fault. I do hate laying blame but if you compare where they’re coming from, Buck made the decision to quit despite Bobby saying not yet to returning to work, and decided to sue and resulting in not being able to talk to Eddie (and Chris). Meanwhile Eddie’s wife and the mother of his kid (who just almost died!) died horrifically in front of him, days after telling him she wanted a divorce. Yet it’s Buck who just wants to talk to Eddie, even though he knows he’s in the wrong. I just want you to talk to me. Even if it’s just to say that you’re still mad.

Which is WILD when you then look at the two s8 fights that Buck comes at with complete passive aggression. In the s3 fight, Buck keeps pushing and pushing, and it’s only when they’re alone in the station, and he pushes—again—and again, that Eddie finaaalllyy starts talking. And when you compare that with 809 where Eddie, annoyed, lets Buck into the house after the barest of resistance, to then immediately start talking (given, yes he’s having a whole different argument about well, a non-existent competition). And again in 817, Eddie is the one to talk first. He didn’t even have to ask or bring up the groceries; it’s not like he walked in with them. But he’s trying to broach the subject of how Buck is acting/coping. Which is again a wild reversal! And again it takes next to nothing to get Eddie talking this time. Meanwhile Buck is the one to barely say anything! Especially after the shoulder listen-to-me-it’s-important grab. Not until the end when he mistakes Eddie’s regret for (lack of a better word) criticism.

It’s almost (🤷🏻‍♀️) as if there’s this huge defensive wall up. Well less defensive and more preventative. Because unlike before, when Buck would let any and every emotion show on his sleeve, now, in s8, he can’t! He can’t let Eddie see it, Eddie who always sees everything about Buck, because then Buck is going to have to own it as the truth. (You don’t have to hide from me!!!! Except Buck is!! He’s hiding from Eddie and he’s hiding from himself!) So instead, he can’t come at the fights head on. Which is something Eddie never wants to do until he’s pushed to. But Buck isn’t pushing. He isn’t countering the arguments in Eddie’s head. Which is what Eddie wants!

Neither of them can get what they want (being together but also being together) until they can say, or hell, even just acknowledge the truth.

And it’s all extra fun and messy when you consider that Buck had more to lose if he didn’t push it with Eddie in s3 because they weren’t yet at a place where they knew they could always come back from (which is extra extra fun when you remember that he didn’t fight Abby or Ali when they walked away) but now, when he has SO MUCH at stake, he fights around the issue.

#and I also think it’s hilarious that he refers to Eddie as ghosting him #which yeah it’s for the Halloween joke but also a term used in dating #thinking thoughts!#911 #buddie #911 abc

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sturniololuvz · 4 hours ago

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Can you do one where the triplets find the little sisters spam account and she’s like on a boys lap, and in other vids she’s sneaking out with her friends

“Private Story, Public Problem”

Nick was the first to find it.

He wasn’t snooping—not really. He’d just been tagged in a random video by a mutual friend. Curiosity led to clicking, which led to scrolling, which led to _“@yn.privvvv”—a spam account that definitely wasn’t public.

And definitely wasn’t supposed to be found.

He stared at the screen for a solid ten seconds, heart rate climbing with every clip. There was a blurry video of you at a party, dancing. A shot of you and your friends running through the streets late at night. And then—one that made his stomach drop—you on some guy’s lap, hoodie zipped halfway down, laughing like you didn’t have three older brothers with functioning Wi-Fi.

“Matt,” Nick said flatly, walking into the living room and shoving his phone in Matt’s face.

Matt squinted, then blinked. “Is that—? No way. Scroll back. Scroll back.”

They stopped on the lap video.

Chris, hearing the commotion, came in with a bag of chips. “What’s going on?”

Nick didn’t even look up. “Your little sister is out here acting like she doesn’t have a family who will literally kill for her.”

Chris leaned in, saw the post, and choked on a chip. “Is she—on a guy’s lap? Who the hell is that?”

“No idea,” Matt muttered.

“What account is this?” Chris demanded.

“Her spam.”

“We didn’t even know she had one!”

“Oh, we know now.”

Cut to ten minutes later: you walked into the apartment from Target, headphones in, absolutely oblivious—until three very silent triplets stared at you from the couch.

You froze. “…What?”

Chris held up his phone. “So. ‘yn.privvvv.’ Want to explain?”

Your stomach dropped. “How did you—”

“Not the question we’re asking,” Matt snapped. “Who is that guy? And why are you out at 2 a.m. sneaking around like you’re in a damn coming-of-age movie?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Nick was still silent, which was somehow scarier.

“I—It’s not what it looks like, okay?”

“Oh really?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’re out breaking every rule we’ve ever set and laughing while doing it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Matt asked, voice lower now. “If you wanted more freedom or whatever—why lie?”

You swallowed hard. “Because I knew you’d overreact. Like you’re doing now.”

Nick finally spoke. “Overreact? You’re fifteen. You’re sneaking out. Sitting on some guy’s lap. And we’re just supposed to act like that’s normal?”

“I didn’t do anything bad—”

“You didn’t tell us,” Chris said, softer now. “That’s what’s bad.”

The room went quiet.

You looked at them—three overprotective, annoying, fiercely loyal older brothers who were only mad because they cared.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

Nick sighed, walking over and ruffling your hair. “We’re not mad because you’re growing up. We’re mad because we love you and we’re scared someone’s gonna take advantage of that.”

Matt nodded. “Please just… don’t lie next time.”

Chris added, “Also, if we find out who that guy is—he’s dead.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled a little. “I deleted the account.”

“Good,” all three said in unison.

You sat with them on the couch, and even though you were still grounded for a week, you couldn’t help but feel a little lucky—annoyed, yes—but lucky.

Because some people had older brothers.

But not everyone had three who’d go to war for you over a spam account.

⸻

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic

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rapunzellovesbooks · 2 days ago

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Okay, I am going to write something that has legit been running through my mind for weeks now. You can like it or not, but this is my opinion of the whole situation and this is coming from someone who, yes, would love it if Nicola and Luke eventually became a couple but who also is very tired of the unnecessary drama. I lowkey hate what I have become over two people who have done nothing and I mean NOTHING wrong.

So, we all saw the world tour, we all have seen BGT, we all can safely say Luke and Nicola have insane levels of chemistry in and out of the show. That is not something solely shippers have said, critics, reviewers have said it, their friends have and so have the people themselves. You can have chemistry with someone and not be dating them, otherwise no show or movie would ever get made. We can say chemistry is there, period. While I do think that Luke and Nicola always behave like what I consider to be simply bestie behaviour, I am also very aware that I have no idea how I would behave with someone I shared this filming experience with, had shared intimate scenes with and was travelling the world with. They were each other´s people during that world tour and, yes, they were unhinged. I probably would be too amidst the madness of it all. So maybe their bestie behaviour is different than mine. Everyone ate it up, we all loved it. Some were convinced they were dating and they flat out multiple times denied it, they did. Some people knew Antonia existed and by some I mean folks who have way too much free time and go lurk under tags and posts from family and friends to see if they spot Luke or someone he is hanging out with. Folks who monitor every like, every follow, unfollow, time they are online, etc.

So when people saw her clear on a paparazzi picture, they thought Luke had lied to them, had betrayed them, but you cannot betray someone you owe nothing to. They said he ruined Polin and rushed to Nicola´s defence. And then Jake came along, also on a festival picture not two months after that. And then everything was very different. Jake was the saviour, the one who healed a broken heart. And it bugged me for so long until I understood why people thought this way. And now I see it.

People legit believe that Nicola has only ever had one boyfriend, Jake because he is the one on her instagram, the only one that I am aware of she has ever been photographed with, which makes total sense, since before, no one cared about who Nicola was dating. Even during the world tour, since people assumed she was with Luke, no one looked further. So when Luke did not fill the role people wanted from him, Nicola became a martyr of sorts and anyone who was beside her, a person worth of adoration, while the girl who had "sabotaged" her became the villain of the story. Everyone became a caricature of sorts in the fandom. And the person I feel bad for now is Nicola, because this is what, to me, the whole situation screamed.

You think Nicola waited all her life to simply shoot season 3 with Luke and be with him. A girl "like Nicola" in people´s eyes could only have her co-star as boyfriend. Now, Nicola has had boyfriends before. She has, she said so herself. During season 1 and 2 and 3 maybe. So people being angry at Luke for not dating Nicola after breaking up with Jade annoys me so much because how the hell do you know Nicola was not in a relationship? Can you really only envision a girl like Nicola alone until ONE guy comes along? And I mean this because so many people then commented, "oh, we all knew he would never be with a girl like Nicola". The fuck does that even mean?! Nicola is gorgeous and Jake is not a saint for being the guy she is dating, he is not. He can be whatever he wants to be but a man does not get to be the greatest thing since toast simply for dating a woman who is not skinny nor is a man a devil for dating a woman who is skinny.

Everyone created their stupid timelines but you failed to see that there are a thousand things, people and meetings in Luke and Nicola´s lives that you will never know about. It is very possible Nicola was dating someone before the WT and during (she had already met Jake) and Luke as well. We know this. So, no, Polin is not ruined because if the requirement for Polin was both leads being single then you would not have loved the Polin that you already have, one where both leads were in relationships with others but still remained the actors, besties that we know and love. I admit that I do not understand them most times when they interact as if that is normal bestie behaviour but that is on me.

So, no, there is no feud or beef because, why would there be one? They know each other, no one duped or sabotaged anyone. You just simply believed Nicola and her body type was only ever good enough for one person and one person only and when that person did not do what you wanted all hell broke lose. You say you defend her and you are happy for her but that includes, in my opinion, the notion that you thought she was sad before. Why? For all we know she could have had a million boyfriends and lived her best life all this time and we never knew.

There was never a conspiracy, no one lied to you. You dont have to like that they have a bf and gf, I dont, but I can also simply go watch BGT season 3 and be done with it. I dont have to analyse the new Luke and A pictures or leave nasty comments under Jake´s posts, I do not. I can ship them because, in my mind, they are Colin and Pen while also being very VERY aware that they are not. I want to go back to a sense of normalcy because this is stupid. It just is and it is insulting to two people who have, honestly, been more than patient, more than kind with this nonsense.

In conclusion, the reason I believe so many people lunged at Luke is because they saw and still see Nicola as someone who can only have one man because she has a different body type. So many people get mad at Antonia for simply being skinny and it makes no sense to me. None, at all. Maybe Luke tried to be with Nicola and she was unavailable, maybe everyone is only happy in pictures, or maybe not. Maybe it is none of our business and it never should have been in the first place. We are all curious and noisy people, but man, it is more than time to tone it down by a thousand.

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #lukola

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ambiguous-avery · 3 days ago

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Moon Without Stars, Part 5

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 5448

Summary: Hunters – the people who lived fast and lawless – had one rule they all abided by. No attachments. And in a world where your first touch with your soulmate would leave a brand behind, No Touching was an unspoken second rule. Not everyone followed that, but you did. Or you tried to. The last thing you needed was for fate to be cruel and bind you to someone. Least of all someone like Sam Winchester.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, sad Sam (that’s a warning all of its own), idiots fighting fate, strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: Finally we can let these two start getting to know each other. Nothing says relationship building like forced proximity! Moon Without Stars Masterlist

Sam’s words were devastating.

They were a wrecking ball that crashed through the walls you had spent so long meticulously building up brick by brick. A breach that tore through the dam you had spent years building. A match that kindled your entire world to ashes.

And the worst part of it all? He didn’t say a goddamn thing about it. No gloating. No shoving your face in it. No smug smirk would’ve given you all the fuel you needed to hate his guts over it.

Instead, he simply came in the next morning with a plate of eggs and bacon and toast and a glass of orange juice. Freshly showered with his hair still damp, framing his face in soft waves. You wanted to run your fingers through it. He offered you a soft,

“Good morning,” as he held the plate out for you. “You should eat,” he said simply. “Need the energy if you’re gonna walk out of here in a week.” It wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t taunting. It was just… a statement. No different than if he had said that the sun was bright or the rain was wet.

“I don’t need your charity,” you muttered, even as you reached up for the plate.

“It’s not charity. It’s breakfast.”

You had to fight the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips and instead chose to stab the eggs with more force than necessary. Smartass. That was a line you might’ve said if the roles were reversed.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“Doing what?” Sam’s voice was so maddeningly calm. So devoid of the triumph he should’ve been parading around in your face. He set the juice down next to your empty water cup.

"This." You gestured at the food, at him, at the room around you. "Taking care of me. Acting like... like we're..." The words died in your throat because you weren't sure what exactly you were trying to say.

Sam shifted his weight and loosely crossed his arms over his chest, those hazel eyes studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

"Like we're what?"

"Like we're friends," you managed, stabbing another piece of egg. "We're not friends, Winchester."

"No?" There was that small smile again, the one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth but somehow reached his eyes. "What are we then?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren't ready to face. You chewed slowly, buying yourself time.

"We're... temporary allies," you decided. "Sharing space until I can get the hell out of here." Sam chuckled, and the sound did something warm and dangerous to your insides.

“Temporary allies,” he repeated, as though he were tasting the words. “Is that what you call someone who stitches you up and makes you breakfast?”

You crammed an entire piece of toast in your mouth to avoid answering, but Sam just stood there, patient as ever while you chewed. It was infuriating how he could just wait, like he had all the time in the world for you to find your words.

"I didn't ask you to do any of that," you finally muttered.

"No, you were too busy bleeding out in the back of the Impala.” Even though his tone was gentle, there was still a bite in his words. "Look, we don't have to be friends. But you’re stuck here for now, so can we at least play nice while we share space?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"I don't play nice, Winchester. I hunt alone for a reason."

"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" He gestured to your bandaged side with a pointed look. You wanted to throw the plate at him, but the food was too damn good to waste. Instead, you took another aggressive bite of bacon and glared.

"Fine," you conceded. "I'll play nice. But don't expect me to braid your hair or share my deepest darkest secrets over a bottle of wine."

The smile that spread across his face was like sunrise breaking through storm clouds – unexpected and annoyingly beautiful.

"I'll cancel the slumber party I was planning, then." Despite yourself, a laugh escaped your lips before you could swallow it down. Sam's eyes lit up at the sound, and something in your chest tightened uncomfortably. You covered your traitorous mouth with your hand, silently cursing yourself for giving him the satisfaction. But the damage was done. He'd heard you laugh, and judging by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, he was entirely too pleased with himself.

"Don't look so smug," you grumbled. "I'm delirious from pain meds."

“Sure you are.” And you didn’t have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice. “When you’re done with breakfast, I need to change the dressings on those wounds and make sure things look okay.”

“I can do it myself,” you said automatically, the words coming out before you could stop them. It was a reflex at this point. A constant need to keep everyone else an arm’s length away.

“Really? You’re going to reach around and take care of the ones on your back?” When you glanced up at him between bites, you could see that he had arched an eyebrow. You chose not to dignify that question with an answer.

“Don’t suppose I can get a shower before the dressings go back on, can I? Feels like I got mauled by a pack of werewolves.”

“Those stitches are fresh. You should probably wait at least until tomorrow before getting them wet,” he said. You sighed and gingerly leaned back against the pillows.

“Fine. But I’d like to get a real shower as soon as possible.”

“I can help you with that,” Sam offered before immediately backpedaling when you stared at him wide-eyed. “I mean– not– I can pick up some stuff for you. Not actually, uh, you know...” His cheeks flushed pink, and you felt a flutter of amusement. He looked good when he was flustered. What else could you do to fluster him like that?

“Careful, people might think you care.”

“Heaven forbid,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but notice the way the damp strands curled slightly towards the ends. “I’ll, uh, I’m just gonna go grab some things. I’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, he excused himself from the room.

Left alone, you stared at the empty doorway, feeling strangely bereft without Sam’s presence. You poked at the remaining food on your plate, irritated by how much you had enjoyed the interaction with him. And how long had it been since someone cooked for you? Years, probably. The life of a hunter wasn’t the most conducive to home-cooked meals. Or any kind of domesticity. You let out a frustrated sigh.

The problem wasn’t that Sam was unkind. He was the exact opposite. He was too kind. Too gentle. Too damn understanding. It would be so much easier if he were some self-assured asshole that gave you more than enough reasons to hate him. But he wasn’t. You didn’t have a single genuine excuse to despise him.

You liked Sam. A lot.

And that was the problem. You had told yourself that leaving those last two times was the right thing to do. That the universe was wrong to mark you as his. That someone like you – broken, sharp-edged, foul-mouthed – had no business being tied to anyone, let alone someone as good as Sam Winchester. He deserved someone who still believed in the magic of soulmates like he did. Who still believed that the mark was a gift. A cosmic reassurance that you weren’t meant to be alone in the world.

Because to you, it was more like a curse. A reminder of what you weren’t allowed to have.

You finished your breakfast, surprised by how hungry you had actually been. The plate had been scraped clean by the time Sam returned with an armful of medical supplies.

“Good to see you’ve got an appetite,” he said, setting everything down on the bed.

“Food’s food,” you replied with a shrug that you immediately regretted as pain shot through your side.

“Careful,” Sam warned, his voice dropping to that low, concerned tone that made your stomach do strange things. “I need you to sit up a bit more and lift your shirt on the right side.”

You hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t that you were shy – modesty wasn’t a luxury you could afford in your line of work. You’d patched yourself up in gas station bathrooms, motel rooms, and the back seats of stolen cars. You’d stripped down in front of strangers when necessary, all in the name of survival.

But this felt different. More intimate somehow. Knowing that Sam’s full attention would be on you. His hands on your skin. If you made a move on him, just how long would his touch stay innocent and gentle?

“I can turn around if you want,” he offered, misinterpreting your hesitation.

“Wha– I’m not some maiden clutching my pearls,” you scoffed before tugging the borrowed t-shirt up to expose your bandaged side and shoulder. You slid your arm from the sleeve and let the extra fabric bunch up at your front to maintain some semblance of your dignity. “I’ve been stitched up by shadier characters than you.” Sam chuckled as he knelt beside the bed.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said, carefully peeling back the adhesive tape. “Though, the bar for ‘shadier than me’ might be lower than you think.” You tried to focus on the ceiling rather than the jolts of electricity his fingers sent through your skin as he worked.

“What, you got a dark past I should know about?”

“Don’t we all in this line of work?” His tone was light, but when you glanced at him, there was something in his eyes that made you wonder just how many ghosts of his own he was carrying. But before you could dwell on it too much, he gently pulled away the old dressing, and you couldn’t suppress the hiss that escaped you as the cool air hit your wound.

“Sorry,” he murmured, inspecting his handiwork. You looked down at your side, finally able to get an idea of the damage you had sustained. There was a single, long gash that ran perpendicular to your ribs that had been neatly stitched back together with black thread. The edges of the wound were jagged and swollen and angry. “It’s looking better than it did. Less inflamed than when I put the stitches in.”

“You can thank my superhuman healing abilities,” you quipped, trying to keep the tone light and ignore how close his face was to yours. How you could smell the clean scent of his shampoo. Your eyes found the desk that sat in the corner of the room, and you spent way too much effort memorizing the little details of it.

The room fell silent as Sam worked except for the occasional sounds of crinkling gauze packaging and medical tape ripping. Despite yourself, your gaze drifted back to him, studying the concentrated furrow of his brow and the way his lips pressed together as he focused. And his goddamn hands. They were impossibly gentle for their size, careful not to do anything that would lead to unnecessary tugging or discomfort.

Though, no amount of mental distraction was enough to fully tune out the way every brush of his fingers against you sent pure electricity through your system. It was no small feat to hold still, but even when you twitched or jerked slightly, he didn’t say anything. No reprimands. No chiding. Just wordless care. It was unsettling. For you at least.

“You’re good at this,” you admitted reluctantly. “Not your first rodeo, I’m guessing?”

“Dean and I have had a lot of practice patching each other up over the years,” he said, his mouth quirking up slightly.

There was another deep wound that curved from your collarbone, over your shoulder, and down across your shoulder blade, and Sam had a point that there was no amount of twisting or contorting that would let you take care of that one by yourself. Two others on your mid-to-lower back added to that point. When Sam was done, he set about cleaning up the mess he had made, tossing wrappers into the garbage before moving to grab your empty plate from where you had set it down.

“Dean and I are going to do a supply run here soon. I can grab some things for you. Do you still have my number?” Memorized it. Forwards, backwards, upside down, you could recite it in at least three languages. Just in case.

“It’s somewhere around here,” you said nonchalantly.

“Well if you need anything specific, just text or call,” Sam said. “I know being stuck here isn’t ideal.”

You nodded, tugging your – Sam’s – shirt back down. The bunker was stifling in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature. The weight of the domesticity, of being cared for, was what made it hard to breathe. You weren’t used to staying in one place for more than a couple of nights, let alone being confined to a bed while someone fussed over you.

“Some clothes of my own would be nice,” you admitted. “And I don’t know what kind of soap situation you guys have here, but if all you have is a five-in-one bodywash-shampoo-conditioner monstrosity, then I’m going to walk out of here by the end of today.”

Sam laughed, the sound rich and warm, and your mark decided that it was singlehandedly the best sound you had ever heard in your entire life. No contest.

“Noted. Text me your sizes. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Hey,” you blurted out before he could leave. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at you with those patient eyes.

“Yeah?”

Your throat constricted. What were you going to say? Thank you? Sorry for being so difficult? I’ve been running from you because I’m terrified that the second I give in the universe is going to take you away from me? Instead, all that came out was,

“Nothing floral. With the soap, I mean. I don’t want to smell like a flower shop exploded.” You saw the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

“Got it. No flowers. Any other preferences I should know about?”

“I like mint. Or… citrus is fine.” You fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, suddenly feeling ridiculous for making such a silly request.

“Mint or citrus. I can manage that.” And with that, he left.

You sank into the pillows with a heavy sigh, your weight sagging into them with a tiredness that permeated through your bones. You drained your glass of water before pulling the blankets up a little higher over you and letting the warm feeling of safety lull you into a surprisingly peaceful sleep. Thoughts of Sam’s hands on you chased you into your dreams.

When you woke, you found yourself bathed in darkness. The lamp on your bedside table had been turned off, and without any windows in the room, it was hard to say how long you had been out for. Everything felt stiff and sore from sleeping in one position for too long, and your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. You fumbled around for the lamp, wincing as soft, golden light flooded the room when you found it.

Your water glass was full. And four pills had been set out in one of those plastic dosage cups that came with liquid medicines. You groaned as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, testing the give of your wounds. You were achy for sure, but not so much that you couldn’t manage a small walk. Anything to get out of bed. You downed the pills with a happy gulp of water, sighing in content as you did so.

There was a small bag sitting on the chair Sam had occupied earlier, and curiosity got the better of you. When you peeked inside of it, you found clothes that weren’t yours but were definitely meant to be. A simple pair of black sweatpants, a soft gray t-shirt, and a pack of underwear that still had the tags on them. There was also a small toiletry bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bottle of citrus-scented body wash. No floral nonsense, just as you had requested.

You went back and double checked the tags on the clothes, realizing that you hadn’t ever texted Sam. You had meant to, really. But he seemed to have guessed your size just fine regardless. You grabbed your phone off the bedside table and checked it.

2 New Messages

1 Missed Call

You navigated to your calls, and you swore your heart skipped a beat seeing HIM on your missed call list. The call had come in several hours ago. Unsurprisingly, the two texts were from him too. When had he gotten… right. When you had texted him in a moment of weakness during the time you had spent avoiding him. How could you forget?

What size shirt and pants do you wear?

I guessed on the sizes. Hope I wasn’t too far off the mark. Let me know if you need anything else.

You stared at the messages, warmth spreading through your chest despite your best efforts to squash it. You glanced at the time on your phone: 9:43pm. Jesus… you had slept the entire day away. You changed into the fresh clothes, hesitating when it came to stripping out of Sam’s shirt. You weren’t ready to give that up so soon. So you simply changed into a fresh pair of underwear and the sweatpants.

It hadn’t even been a full 24-hours since you first woke up here, but it would be nice to get to know the layout of the place a little better, especially if you were going to be stuck here for the next week. Not to mention there was an uncomfortable pressure in your bladder. And the idea of leaving the confines of your room was too tempting to ignore.

The hallway outside your door was well-lit. The bunker was quiet except for the dull hum of electricity and the occasional creaking that every old building seemed to make. You moved slowly, one hand trailing along the wall for support, bare feet against the cold bunker floor. The place was much larger with far more rooms than you had initially expected. There was a number ‘20’ on your door, and you briefly wondered how many other people called this place home. Or at least home base.

You had no idea where anything was, but your stomach growled. It echoed in the hallway and reminded you that breakfast had been your only meal of the day so far. Okay, new plan. Kitchen then bathroom. Sam had brought in freshly cooked food earlier which clearly meant there had to be a kitchen around. Or a hot plate. Maybe a stash of MREs? It took you a few wrong turns before you finally found the kitchen in question. But not before you had stumbled into a library of sorts. You filed the location of that away for later. For now, food.

You flipped the kitchen light on and dug through the cupboards, trying to find something edible that wouldn’t take much effort to put together. Just the walk to the kitchen had quickly burned through what little energy you had, though you weren’t sure if it was the lack of food or your body healing that took it more out of you. The cupboard was surprisingly well-stocked. Whoever lived here clearly shopped regularly, which struck you as odd for hunters. Most of the ones you knew lived off of convenience store food and booze, you included. Then again, Sam had mentioned earlier about a supply run, so more than likely it was just the aftermath of that.

You moved to the fridge and opened it, the light inside casting a soft glow that spilled onto the tiled floor. Carefully, you scanned the shelves, reaching for an apple but pausing when you spotted something better on the top shelf. Sitting in the corner was a pie tin with a single slice remaining. It took you all of three seconds of consideration before you reached for it. Leftovers always tasted better at night. It was a secret of the universe that anyone would’ve agreed with you on.

You moved with quiet precision, a habit you had developed in your years of hunting. It had been ingrained in you from the very beginning to never make more noise than necessary. As your fingers closed around the pie tin, the cold metal of it bit against your skin. You slid it from its spot carefully and set it on the counter before closing the fridge door with a soft thump, sealing the pie’s fate as your prize. Lost in the sweet indulgence of stolen pie, you missed the way your mark had warmed, and it wasn’t until Sam cleared his throat that you swiftly pulled one of the kitchen knives from the block on the counter and whirled around to face him, your stitches pulling uncomfortably with the sudden movement.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there!” Sam’s hands went up in a gesture of surrender, palms facing you like a shield. “It’s just me.” You huffed out a sigh, your grip on the knife relaxing ever so slightly as your shoulders sagged.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone?” Your heart hammered against your ribcage, adrenaline coursing through you. Sam’s lips quirked upward, his eyes flicking between your face and the knife still pointed at him.

“Says the person stealing pie in the middle of the night.” He took a cautious step forward. “You gonna put that down or…?”

You slowly lowered the knife, watching his slow movements towards you.

“I was hungry,” you explained, setting the knife down and gesturing vaguely to the pie. “Didn’t want to wake anyone up.”

“So you decided to steal Dean’s pie instead?” Amusement was laced in Sam’s voice as he spoke. “That’s bold of you. He counts the slices, you know.”

“Oh.” You glanced down at the dessert. “Sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“No, no,” Sam chuckled, moving to your side and pulling out a fork from a nearby drawer. His arm brushed against yours, and you felt your mark hum in response. “This is actually perfect. He’s been annoying me all day.” He handed you the fork. “I’ll just tell him a stabby raccoon got into it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a slow smile spreading across your face despite your best efforts.

“Stabby raccoon? Really?”

“If the knife fits.” Sam leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement drew your attention to the way his flannel stretched across his shoulders. They were so damn broad, and with him standing right next to you, it was impossible not to notice just how tall he stood. He was an absolute mountain of a man. A mountain you’d like to climb. You’d gotten pretty decent at identifying which thoughts were your own and which ones were coming from your mark. And that was definitely the mark talking. Though… you might’ve agreed with it… just a little bit.

“I’ve been asleep all day,” you defended, popping off the plastic cover of the pie and digging your fork in. “I’m starving.” The first bite was heavenly. Sweet but not overwhelming. With just the perfect amount of cinnamon to offset it. Even cold, it was delicious. You briefly closed your eyes, savoring it. You couldn’t think of the last time you had treated yourself to a simple indulgence like this. When you opened your eyes to go for another bite, Sam was watching you with an expression that made you pause.

“Good?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

“Really good,” you admitted between bites. “Though now I understand why your brother would count the slices.”

“Dean would be happy to hear that. Well… after he murdered you for eating his last slice.” Sam’s smile was infectious, and you took another bite in an attempt to stifle your grin. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft scrape of your fork against the metal tin. You were painfully aware of his presence beside you. The silence between you stretched, though it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as you remembered it.

“I’m surprised you’re up and walking around already,” he said finally. “Those were some pretty nasty wounds.”

“I’m not the type to stay in one place for too long. I’d go stir-crazy if I stayed in that room the whole week.”

“I can imagine. You don’t strike me as someone who likes being cooped up.” You paused mid-bite, studying him with a sideways glance.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re stubborn,” Sam replied without missing a beat. “I know you’re resourceful enough to survive on your own for years. You’re brave to the point of recklessness. And I know that you’re good at what you do.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke. The fork stilled halfway to your mouth, pie precariously perched on the tines. How could he do that? How could he peel back your layers so easily? It wasn’t fair. You had spent years building your walls, but here he was, walking right through them like they were nothing.

“Those are generalizations that could apply to any hunter,” you countered, setting the fork down with more force than necessary. “That’s not knowing me.” Sam shrugged, his shoulders rolling with the movement.

“Maybe not. But I’d like to.”

The simple honesty in his voice caught you off guard. It would’ve been so much easier if he just kept his distance. If he treated you with the same guarded suspicion that you gave to everyone else. That was a dance you knew by heart, and you could do it all day long. Keeping people at an arm’s length away and never letting them any closer was something you could do as easily as breathing. It kept them safe, you told yourself. It kept you safe.

“And what if you don’t like what you find?” The words came out as a whisper, far more vulnerable than you had intended. Sam moved a fraction closer, his side just barely touching your shoulder. You could feel his warmth through the fabric of his shirt. Your mark practically sang at the contact, and you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. You didn’t flinch away.

“I’m willing to take that chance.” His voice was low, almost a gentle rumble that you could feel in your chest. “You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” you muttered, stabbing at the pie.

“I think you’re scared of something that isn’t a monster.”

And for the second time in less than 24 hours, his words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fork until your knuckles turned white. You were exposed. Flayed open like a fish on a cutting board with your insides laid bare for him to see. Your knee-jerk reaction was to deny it. To cover it with your bravado you wore like armor. To push him away. To bare your fangs and claws to protect yourself. But wasn’t that what you had been doing? It was exhausting. The running. The hiding. The fighting.

“Aren’t we all afraid of something?”

Sam’s gaze was soft in the kitchen lighting. It simultaneously made him look younger and older. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a second fork from the drawer and scooped up a bite of pie for himself. Your instinct was to protect your prize, to live up to your ‘stabby’ title and jab your fork into his outstretched hand. But something about the shared moment kept you from following through.

“Yeah,” he finally admitted, savoring his stolen bite. “We are. But most hunters run towards the things that scare them. Not away.” You set the pie down on the counter between you.

“That’s different,” you said, gingerly crossing your arms over your chest. “Monsters are predictable. You know what they want. What they’ll do. How to kill them.” You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sam’s gaze on you. “People are messier.”

“Is that why you run? Because I’m messy?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications and unspoken secrets. You could lie. You could deflect. You could do what you had always done: run. But for the first time in a long time, you found yourself wanting to stay. Wanting to face this head-on.

“No. I am.” And something in you cracked a little more, the fracture spider webbing outwards. Sam’s eyes softened, and he set his fork down.

“We’re all messy. It comes with the territory.”

“No. Not like this. Not like me.”

“You wanna elaborate on that?” Sam asked, leaning his hip against the counter, his full attention on you. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating to be the sole focus of those hazel eyes. You liked how he looked at you.

“Not particularly.” You reached for the pie again, using it as a shield. A distraction. Anything to avoid the way he seemed to see right through your carefully constructed layers.

“Fair enough.” He didn’t push, and somehow that made it worse. The way he just accepted whatever you were willing to give. You ate the rest of the pie in silence, and he didn’t try for another bite even when you offered it to him.

"You should probably head back to bed," Sam suggested, his voice gentle in the kitchen's quiet. "Doctor's orders."

"You're a doctor now?" You raised an eyebrow, setting the empty pie tin aside.

"I've got more medical experience than most ER residents." There was no arrogance in his statement, just a simple fact. "And I say you need rest."

"Fine, Dr. Winchester." You pushed away from the counter and immediately regretted it as your legs wobbled beneath you. The short excursion had drained what little energy you'd managed to recover. Sam noticed instantly, taking a step toward you with his hands hovering near your elbows, ready to catch you but not quite touching.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy," you muttered, steadying yourself against the counter. Your pride wouldn't let you admit how weak you still were, but your body was betraying you with every trembling step. The journey to the kitchen had seemed manageable earlier, but now the prospect of walking all the way back to your room felt like scaling Everest.

The two of you walked back to your room in silence. Sam stayed close enough that you could hold onto him to steady yourself – you didn’t – but far enough away that you wouldn’t accidentally brush him against him. The message was clear enough. Any contact would have to be initiated by you. Which was good. That was how you wanted it. No touching beyond what was strictly necessary. Just how you liked it. Why were you disappointed?

“I’m right next door if you need me,” Sam said, motioning to the door with a ‘21’ on it. “And you can call or text anytime. If you’re up for it, I can show you around the bunker a bit tomorrow.” You studied him for a moment, trying to find the angle. The catch. But all you could find was sincerity.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, surprised by your own honesty. “I think I saw a library earlier?”

“Yeah. It’s a good one; you’ll like it,” he smiled slightly, a soft, gentle one that made your stomach flip. “Good night.” He said your name, and it was like you were hearing it for the first time. There was no edge to it. No underlying tone that suggested he was annoyed with you. Just… Sam.

You hesitated, parting your lips like you might say something more. But instead, all that came out was a quiet,

“Night.” The door clicked softly behind you, and you didn’t see how Sam lingered a moment longer, staring at the space where you had stood. You leaned against the door, heart thudding in a way you were too terrified to name.

The world was tilting towards Sam. And you were falling.

---

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Part 4 --- Part 6

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swirlyyygal · 10 hours ago

Text

What’s Up With All the Silver?

That eyelined loner dad right next door to you freaks you the hell out. Not because you’re scared of him. But because of how much you want to lick his [CENSORED] and [REDACTED]

AU!RetiredAltDad!Geto x F!Reader

CW/Tags: NOT PROOFREAD, Geto has a tongue piercing… And he’s eating it, age gap (Geto is in his 30’s, reader is in her 20’s), single dad Geto, Nanako and Mimiko r mentioned and play a role, reader has hair (no type or length specified), SEXXX w/ his dih in(condom on), walls r thin, Geto is Buddhist bc duh, he feels a bit of religious guilt when he thinks abt u but only 4 so long ❤️‍🩹, brief hair pulling (he’s the one getting it pulled)

AN!!: Hi hiiiiiii!!!!!!!! ‼️Major disclaimer: his religious beliefs take apart of the story, and I take that experience from my point of view! I don’t mean it in disrespectful ways but I am taking into thought about how someone who is dedicated to their religion would think. I myself am religious, and have an indifferent opinion on sex but I do know some people who are odd about that kind of thing. So please don’t take it in any disrespectful way when I mention how he feels, masturbation and sex is totally normal!!‼️ Anyway, I was meaning to do him a long time ago but then that Joel Miller pic showed up and I got MAJOR SIDETRACKED (٥⁀▽⁀ )!! Thank u to my goat for giving me the idea of a single dad Geto, DOMO ARIGATO ✌️🤤❤️‍🩹🥀🕊️

~~~

The apartment complex you moved into was nice. Didn’t cost you much, good area. Very walkable and easygoing. It’s just. The neighbors..

You had a colorful array of next door acquaintances. Who knew people could be so inconsiderate.

Didn’t help the walls were thin. The neighbor to your left was always inviting people over to smoke and have sex.. The downstairs were always partying, upstairs was just the roof but still..

Only person you DID ENJOY was the neighbor to your right. A single dad of two little girls. He had long black hair, beautiful set of purple hooded monolids, sun kissed skin, stretched out ears with some others around the shell, and a very clear blackish stain on waterline.

Always quiet, always respectful. Didn’t interact with much anyone actually. You managed to pick up though that he was a Lay Buddhist. You’d seen him at the temple while passing by, and you saw his statues infront of his home.

Also he wasn’t as old as he described himself to be. Only being 37 and all. He didn’t even have to tell you, his daughters did. You assumed they were adopted, not that it mattered. Nanako and Mimiko were 10, so they were at the age where things just kinda flew outta their mouths.

“Mr. Geto forgets to brush his hair in the morning so we have to do it for him!!!”

The little blonde one, Nanako would shout when seeing you on your balcony. Geto then quickly pulling her back in the house and waving his hand. Not really saying sorry, just dismissing it.

It made you giggle. He took real good care of those girls. I mean, everyone in that family had absolutely glowing skin..

That’s beside the point. Point being. You were so down with Geto to the point where it didn’t feel right.

Maybe it was the fact he was such a capable dad? Or possibly how he was just so calm to everything. Even when a screaming match was going on in the back alley, he’d just sit on his balcony and tune it out. Like he was deaf.

He intrigued you so bad. But it’d be weird if you went up to him and asked him on a date. His girls were busy, he was busy, and he was also older, he probably wouldn’t be down with something younger than him. Perchance?

You just kind of saw him from afar, until today when you walked out your front door.

You PLANNED to just go out and really quickly grab some chips from the store at the corner. Until you turned to see Nanako and Mimiko kinda sitting at the front of the door, using colored chalk on the cement floors that led up to it. You stood there, barely fitting tank top, sports shorts, sandals and a bangle barely holding onto your wrist.

“Afternoon Nanako, Mimiko”

You waved, they waved back.

“Mr. Geto went to the temple! We got bored and walked home.”

Ah, you remembered that now when u went to pick up the mail that morning.

“Keep by me” He spoke in that purring tone, and then something after that..

“Uh.. How long have you been in waiting?..”

“20 minutes!!”

It was around a 7 minute walk from the temple to the complex, so they had been waiting for a while. You locked your door and tapped your foot.

“And you just, got up and left?..”

They nodded like it didn’t matter.

“C’mon, I’m walkin’ you back to the temple. Mr. Geto is probably worried sick..”

You replayed the last time his girls kinda just walked off to go play. He came frantically over to your door. It was terrifying to see him looking so frazzled when usually he just had a polite smile.

Turns out they had just went downstairs to play in the lobby.

The two girls got up, walking over to you while sulking.

“But the service takes too longgg!”

They’d usually be gone for around maybe an hour or two. But to a young kid that’s like their whole lifeline so you didn’t doubt it.

Taking your hand, they walked along with you. It felt so weird when they held your hands. You’d seen them do it with Geto. It made you feel weirdly.. Maternal… Which was even weirder bc they weren’t your kids. Shaking that feeling off quickly to not think about it too hard.

Along the way, they kept talking about Geto. Like I said, very talkative.

“Sometimes we fall asleep during the service”

Mimiko sprouted while walking a bit forward. Nanako would nod.

“Mr. Geto doesn’t know yet so don’t tell him!”

You nodded. Giggling to yourself at their antics.

“You know what else you shouldn’t let Mr. Geto know?”

That perked up your brow. Another secret of his? What on Earth could it be, he didn’t seem that secretive.

The two girls turned to eachother and giggled, pushing eachother.

“Mr. Geto thinks your ‘sooo hotttt’!”

They both laughed before running off infront of you down the street to the temple. Their comment hadn’t registered before you started running to make sure they didn’t go the wrong way. It only hit AFTER you arrived at the temple, standing infront of there with them. Panting.

Huh.

Geto hadn’t even seen you more than 10 times. And every time he just kinda nodded your way. He hadn’t shown ANY signs of attraction, so hearing them say he thought you were attractive made your heart flutter.

You watched at a frantic Geto was speed walking around the area, calling out to them with wide eyes. And when he looked to the front to Mimiko and Nanako, he visibly got relieved.

He ran over to them first, tapping them on the forehead and crossing his arms. About to scold them before he saw YOU. And when he saw you, in that little tank top, you watched him grip his sleeve.

“Thank you for bringing them over, I can’t believe I let them out of my sight..”

He turned them around to face you, patting their backs and making them bow a quiet sorry.

He didn’t even question why you had the girls, just that you brought them back.

“Don’t worry, they were just hangin’ around the apartment, didn’t go too far.”

He sighed. Nodding as he began to walk down the streets, with you not to far behind. You didn’t wanna walk with them, that’ll be weird, so you pretended to lug along and be distracted.

Once you both hit back to the complex, Nanako and Mimiko ran up the steps from the lobby. And there you both stood. Just kind of there with eachother. It was awkward before he spoke.

“Again. My apologies, they’re at the age where all they do is wanna run and explore..”

He pinched his nose bridge, turning to look up at him, you noticed the dark stain on his waterline and a bit of a wrinkle under his eye.

“No worries! Really! It’s nice that they’re so active.”

He smiled, grateful at your approach to the situation and how you weren’t annoyed. You watched him take a quick peak at your body before pulling something out of his pocket. He handed you a candy, wrapped in pink plastic cover.

“Thank you hon, good day now.”

He walked after them.

You stayed there, looking at the pink candy in your hand and feeling your face get warm. AHHH. Quickly unwrapping it and placed the wrapper in your pocket. When you saw his gaze on your body and that purring tone he used to call you that dumb name. OUGH JUST KILL ME ALREADY.

You tried to not to think about it too hard while getting back to your place. Trying not to think about how his delicate fingers grazed your own. Why were they so soft anyway? Does he moisturize?.. But, as soon as that door closed, it was completely over. And when I say over, I mean over.

You RAN into your bed, laying on your back with a furrowed brow. This is so dumb. Just because they said Geto called you “hot”, didn’t mean it was true. Yet.. You knew the girls, sure they were a bit mischievous, but not liars.

Kicking your foot against the mattress in frustration. SO LAME SO LAME. You shouldn’t be all over a stupid crush like this. ESPECIALLY on man pushing 40’s. URGH. You weren’t weird like that. Well, the girls didn’t have a ma.. And he usually doesn’t bring a lady home, so.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pound on the wall next to your bed. Right. Mr. Geto’s room was right next to yours in terms of layout. So whatever he was saying or doing, you could just barely hear.

The pound sounded like a body, and was accompanied by a sigh, so it was definitely him. In an unconscious act, you leaned your body against the wall. Sort of calculating where his body rested so you could be lined up with him.

A hand ran along the walls of your room. Wistfully sighing like you were in some kind of movie. Anywhere else this would be embarrassing, but here, alone, is just one of your many pleasures of life. All was well and dandy, just kind of imagining this as a movie scene until you heard a muffled, familiar, voice.

You pressed your ear up to the thin barrier, making out what he was saying on, what you could only assume was the phone.

“No no.. Satoru you don’t you don’t understand, she’s too fine for her own good..”

His voice sounded strained, like he was biting his lip and holding something back. Who the hell was he going on about?

“I-I don’t mean to be perverted but like— No no you don’t understand like I could like see them. Yeah, no bra. And the white didn’t help much either..”

You looked down. Oh god you weren’t wearing a bra AND you had white on. I mean, it didn’t seem noticeable at the time but under the sun..

“I haven’t been like this since I was a teen, it’s weighing on me. I don’t enjoy feeling this way.. She’s such a sweet girl with her whole life ahead of her and— oh god and what about the temple..”

Well, he was dedicated. You knew that much. And we all know religion can be kinda iffy on sexual stuff. Especially lust and masturbation. Did he ever masturbate to you? WEIRD THOUGHT.

“Lo—Look Satoru I gotta go.. I need a moment to think about it. Yeah talk to you later, I’ll tell the girls you said hi..”

And the call was over. You heard the phone being thrown to a far end of the bed and his back pounding against the wall again.

Well that was the end of that. He would just fall for you and be guilty over his indecent thoughts, no big deal.

Then there was the sound of pants rustling.

No way.

You heard him place them on the blankets… And then his elbow hitting the wall. Oh lord.

You didn’t wanna believe it, he was proving it to you though.

“Forgive me.. Forgive me..”

He repeated quietly like a mantra. Before you heard the familiar sound of skin slapping. AHHHHH HE WAS JERKING OFF AHHH. Your heart began to beat 20 times more than usual. It felt so weird, so odd to hear this. You hadn’t heard it before, to be honest, you hadn’t even thought he would do things like that.

“I’m so-oorrryyy..”

He’d groan out, often cut off by a heavy moan. It was consistent. And you knew because you were hearing it. The whole thing. Ear pressed against the wall and all. You felt bad about it at first, but then again. He was jerking to the thought of you, so it was only a fair exchange.

His breathing was hot and heavy, and his pace wasn’t calculated. Assuming it’s because he was major desperate.

As perverted as it was, you wanted to hear him cum. You wanted to hear if he’d say your name, just to confirm…

And in your worst fear. Or greatest fantasy, he did.

Saying it with a passion and purr that was so perfect and sweet, but so raw at the same time.

You gasped, looking around your room to see if this was a joke. Was it? What would you do if it was?

A million thoughts raced through your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to listen to him anymore. Running out of the room and into your kitchen to distract yourself.

Maybe you’d cook? No. Watch TV? No. Go on your phone? No.. GAH! YOU COULDN’T GET IT OUT OF YOUR HEAD.

Then, a knock at your door. Please don’t let it be him..

Opening in the door, oh thank the lord it wasn’t him. Just Nanako and Mimiko. Why the hell were they at your door?

Just before you could ask, it was like they read your mind.

“We’re going out to play, can we borrow 5 dollars?”

‘Why me?’ You asked yourself. But didn’t deny them. Giving them a $5 bill.

“Thanks!! We’ll put in a good word for you!!”

Mimiko gleamed, and just like that they were off.

Good word?

To GETO?!

Again with the Geto oh lord it was never gonna end.

You turned your head to his door. Maybe drop by? He’s alone.. And you should probably tell him you gave them 5 dollars so he doesn’t think they stole anything.

You told yourself that was the reason while locking your door and walking over. Yeah that’s it. Not because you wanted to see him.

You knock 3 times.

No answer.

Then another.

Nothing.

Third times the charm, and it worked.

You heard feet shuffling in a panic and a frantic Geto answered the door. Breath heavy, hand wet with water, and his hair all messy with some strands sticking to his forehead.

“H-haa— Wha.. What’s goin’ on?”

His hand wasn’t even dry yet. You rested your weight on one leg with a hand on your hip.

“Sorry to bother just— Well, I gave the girls money, just wanted you to know so you don’t think they ya’know.. Shook some kid down.”

You have a light chuckle, he did too. Visibly relaxing against the door frame.

“How did I end up with such a good neighbor?.. Come in, come in sit.”

He says like he wasn’t just choking his chicken to the thought of you. He was so calculated so fast. Like, it was kind of annoying. You walk in not to far behind him, and you realized how little you’d been in his place. Maybe once or twice, but never more than that.

His home was furnished in a way that made everything seem so cool. Like a fresh breeze had just blown in. Pictures of his daughters and friends scattered on walls and counters, more than anything else.

A picture of him leaned against TV of his hair being shaved off. So he was a monk at some point in his youth.

Dolls and Littlest Pet Shop toys were scattered on the carpet of the living room, as well as books. It gave you a sense of a well loved home. A well furnished and loved home.

You smiled, he noticed. Bringing you both two glasses of water. He sat beside you. His airy scent seemed so natural. You turned away, looking to the wall next to the couch when you saw a bunch of old school pictures. It wasn’t hard to tell. You saw the quality and outfits of the time.

A blonde man with hair covering his eye. A white haired man, who you knew was called “Gojo”. A brown haired man. And finally a brown haired lady. Then your eyes landed on the corner. Holy flip.

There he was. And you could tell based on the tan of his skin and that shiny black haired man. Except, so much more detailed.

A heavy black underline and eyeliner, hair a bit frazzled and about to fall out of his bun, fingers littered with rings. But what attracted you the most was his PIERCINGS.

They were everywhere. I mean like all around. His brow had one, his ear was peace covered in all silver. Those same stretched out ears. And.

Oh lord.

A tongue piercing.

As clear as day because he was sticking it out.

You were hypnotized and he noticed FAST.

“Oh.. That’s from my college days..”

You turned back to him. Empty eyebrow hole, barely any earring piercings. And that familiar black stain on the waterline. It was like he totally abandoned the old him.

Until you saw his open mouth smile and there it was.

That little silver ball.

“You still kept the tongue piercing though?”

You pointed out, starting directly at his mouth. He placed a hand over his mouth and laughed.

“Ah yeah I do.. I find it a pain to take out.”

He looked away guiltily.

“That’s not the reason, is it?..”

Dangerous game you’re playing, god you didn’t know how he’d react to that statement. His head turned to you, a faint flush appearing before turning it down to his hands.

“Ah no. It’s cause, well.. In my youth. A lady I was hooking up with told me— Well- You know”

His words were scattered. You cocked a brow, he went on.

“She had told me, my tongue piercing— Wath hood hor eathing ow”

Midway he stuck out his tongue, letting you get a true glimpse of what it looked like. You assumed he said “was good for eating out”.

He noticed your silence and put it back in his mouth. Getting noticeably embarrassed and ashamed.

“I wanted to leave the past me behind, the scandalous me.. I apologize, it was crude to say all of that to you.”

He looked down, his eyes leaning to you and then seeing how you thighs pressed together. He decided to ignore it, furrowing his brows and bringing his hands together. Muttering something under his breath.

A prayer? Yeah probably.

“It’s fine Mr. Geto really, I asked in the first place. Plus, everyone has thoughts like that, no shame.”

He took a deep breath and placed both hands on his lap. He gripped his leg. Bringing his body up straight to stare directly down at you. He took a long drag down your body, looking at your legs, to your chest, shoulders, neck, and to you.

“I suppose so.. But.. You know, it’s still crude and- Oh lord- Distasteful..”

He had to take a deep breath in the middle of his sentence. He was fighting his inner self and it was way too obvious. He kept closing his eyes and repeating prayers in his head.

You looked down at your lap now. Just kind of staring at your thighs and hoping and praying he totally didn’t notice you pinching them together. You turned to his side to look at him again. But didn’t lift your head.

Oh lord you saw it.

The print was way too obvious in his grey sweatpants. His hand gripping the fabric so hard you thought he would rip them clean off.

He bit his bottom lip so hard you thought the skin was totally gonna rip off. You already saw it going red.

“So…”

You needed to change the conversation and fast. His hand quickly went to cover his raging erection when he noticed that you noticed. Shaking like he saw a ghost.

“I’m sorry.. It’s just.. Ah, I haven’t been intimate in quite a while. Guess I started reminiscing.”

Letting out an awkward laugh. He was about to run into his room and sob. Plus, he was still sensitive from being interrupted while gooning.

“What?.. You get hard while eating a girl out?”

You had never been this blunt with him. You never found it right. He wasn’t strong with his words, he took a delicate approach. And you watched his eyes visibly open, the purple shining off in the bright sun seeping through the blinds.

You looked down to see it twitch at just the mention of it. Oh lord you were literally joking, not SERIOUS when you said it.

Now you were both here. Cock hard and aching while you were slightly getting wet.

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

You both knew, ya’ll weren’t dumb. And he wanted to so bad, but his mind was stopping him. ‘THINK OF THE TEMPLE’ ‘Would Buddha be displeased?’ ‘She’s barely in her 20’s’

Every thought weighed on him. Lord the guilt was heavy. He was fighting every little part of himself to not give in. It was like everything was against him. A forbidden need. God it was just absolutely ruining him.

“I do.. Of course I do. What kind of man doesn’t?”

He turned to face you directly. Staring at you. Oh he really wanted it bad.. Like, dangerously bad. You saw it on his face. Years of religious repression getting to him, but also leaving him the second your hand grazed his thigh.

“You wanna eat me out?”

She shoots?

“Oh god yes.”

SHE SCORESSS.

Absolutely total half court shot made. You were shocked he said yes. He sounded so deliciously desperate.

In no time at all he had you lying back down on the couch. Shorts off and panties thrown elsewhere to the floor. And when he got that first look of your dripping cunt he almost came right then and there. Boxers on, sweatpants on and everything.

He hadn’t seen one in so long. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to. Not until you moved in. And every day he’s been dreaming of it. Now seeing it in real life he was ready to absolutely ruin it.

Quickly wrapping his arms under your legs he lifted them up so they rested on his shoulders. Holding your hips with his hands while his breath fanned against your folds. A heavy shiver went down your spine when you felt it, how scandalous..

You already saw metaphorical spirals appearing in his pupils before he kissed the side of your thigh. Letting his soft lips touch your supple skin. He melted into it easier than you would have thought.

“I’ll— Lord— Please forgive me if I can’t hold back..”

He murmured. Getting ever so closer before leaving a burning kiss to your clit. Your thighs twitched and your eyes peered to him. He had barely even kissed you but god did it feel good.

His eyes were closed in ecstasy as his drooling tongue licked a line down between. Laying it flat on your folds as he soaked in the flavor like some kind of food critic. The cold metallic feeling of his ball piercing hitting your clit as he flicked his tongue. Normally getting aten out was good, but with the piercing.. It was like a whole new idea and world was introduced to you.

He moaned, muffled by his mouth being occupied. The vibration going straight to your head and nerves.

He was engulfed in your taste. Popping his mouth on and off our your swollen pussy. Occasionally sucking and letting the ball of his piercing rest against your perked clit.

Damn if he wasn’t a good eater you wouldn’t know what he was.

“T-that lady was— Fuuuuhhhkk- Right..”

You laughed. Barely able to keep it up though without squishing his face with your thighs when his tongue swiped back and forth. He was definitely an eater, and what made it even better is that he looked like he lived for eating it.

He held onto your hips like if he let go and stopped licking, both you and him would cease to exist. He ate it in such a caring, but lustful way.

He opened his eyes, vision a bit blurred before he looked to you. Making direct eye contact as he licked a long stripe up. Curling his tongue at the end and licking his arousal covering lips.

“I don— Don’t know what’s gotten over me oh God.. Forgive me forgive me..”

He repeated again. He was really into being forgiven. You couldn’t tell if he was exactly talking to you, or Buddha. But you didn’t care because even after saying that, he kept devouring it. Shaking his head side to side while his tongue lay flat. Letting the tip slip into your dripping hole before pulling back to just make out with your sex.

He kissed it with such passion. Such a calculated way of making you tremble and moan. The noises you were letting out were obscene, if any of your neighbors heard— well. They weren’t much better. So why were you gonna stop at their expense? Infact. It made u louder.

When he heard you get louder his pace continued with fever. His hips rutting up into the air, not even humping the cushions literally just going into the air. He missed this feeling, knowing that his mouth can give a woman such intense pleasure. Putting the silver ball to use against your clit, giving it a cold sensation.

Your hand ran through his sleek black hair, tugging on the scalp of it. His eyes rolled back, letting out a guttural moan before going right back to work. You even felt your wetness drop down to your thighs, I mean, how messy was he gonna get?!

He liked it messy, no duh but whatever. He just kept slurping you up like he was dehydrated. His spit pooling into his mouth and dripping onto the couch cushions.

He took a moment to breathe, heavy gusts and wind blown on your sensitive pussy.

“Can’t get enough—“

He breathed out quick as hell before going back to mauling that. Piercing poking around at the flesh with his tongue drawing random spirals and shapes. And your grip only got stronger, nails digging into your own palm to ground yourself.

He brought you closer to his face, pushing your hips into his mouth while he sucked on your clit. Letting himself just enjoy it all before going back to smothering his face in it.

“Ar yu cloth?”

He panted while still eating it. Taking a while to actually pick up what he said before nodding. He nodded back, letting his tongue apply pressure to your wet cunt before licking up to your clit. Continuously sucking before watching your thighs shake and tremble around his face. Legs clamping around his head and he could swear he saw heaven in that moment of his breathing being cut off.

Your orgasm came out with such intensity. You realized no one had ever given you such good head, like, ever. Not with such care, such fever, such love. Damn you could get hooked on this.

You rode it out on his face, hips grinding against his mouth before he let go of your waist and you stopped suffocating him (to his own displeasure).

“Good girl.. You tasted— Lord— You taste—“

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. climbed on top of you, cradling your head up from the back to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, letting your own rest against his. The clacking of metal against your teeth feeling weird, but good. The skin around your lips also messy with your arousal. I mean he really ate that thing.

He pulled away from the kiss with a sort of guilty look in his eye, twisted with lust as well. He looked like he had just gotten rid of years of stress, but gained them back when he realized what he had done. It wasn’t you. No. Never you. It was his own mind messing with him. And that red band that lay across his right wrist.

“Hon.. Please. Forgive me.. But it hurts.. I’ve been wanting- Needing this for a long time and I dunno how much longer I can deny it”

You lifted your upper body up to see him pulling down his sweatpants along with the boxers. Watching his angry, throbbing cock lay bare against. Precum already dripping down and leaving a large wet patch on the fabric. He gave you a pathetic look.

“Please just tell me it’s okay that I’m doing this. It’s cruel and selfish but pleasepleaseplease..”

Is he, begging?

He’s begging.

The usually calm and composed, peaceful man. Who you knew always had a calculated look on his face, was begging you comfort him.

You couldn’t help but give a bit of a chuckle. Concealing it behind a soft smile.

“It’s okay, I’m totally down with all this. I want it as bad as you do. So, Suguru..”

You said his first name with a purr in your tone. Not like his usual calm purr, but with a new kind. A kind of purr that made his body shiver and his desires grow tenfold.

You watched as a flip switched in his head while scrambling a condom from the bottom drawer of his TV stand. Walking back over to you laying on the couch. Sitting on his knees infront of you, he placed it around his cock slowly. Letting it stretch and cover all his length while slowly aligning himself up with your hole. Still incredibly wet.

And when he put the tip in, feeling the warmth of a woman’s pussy for the first time in years. Lord it’s like every single guilty feeling left his body. The times he’s spent jerking off, and then spiraling about it for hours on end, leaving his mind. You watch it happen. You watched the way his eyes closed and a vein on his forehead bulged. Holding your hips with his nimble fingers and pushing in. Every inch reaching a spot inside of you that you never knew you had.

“You’re doing alright hon? Lemme know if you need it to stop..”

He said in such seriousness before continuing to slide in.

“Never better.”

You quipped. He almost lost it at that moment. He finally managed to slip all the way in, a groan of pain from you while a moan of pleasure from him. While it was a big painful, the pain subsided into raw pleasure like a snap.

He gripped your skin. He hadn’t felt such a thing in a looonggg time, so you let him bask in it. Letting him lean down to kiss your neck, then shoulder, then chest before flicking his tongue against your nipple. Catching a glimpse of that piercing made you clench around him and he felt that.

He didn’t need to question if it was because of the nipple or the metal. He knew.

Pulling himself back up, he realigned himself. Turning his gaze to you for permission. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“You can move, don’t hurt no more”

Beaming, he immediately got to work. Going slow, letting himself out by an inch. Then pushing back inside again. The wet squelch sound almost making you laugh, if you weren’t about to fall all over his dick.

Slowly he began going in and out, feeling your walls close in around him with intensity he never knew. He gritted his teeth, how the hell were you so warm? He was deprived, deprived of what he needed and desired so bad. Deprived of you in yourself. Not just your body, but you as a whole. He needed you. And right now, he just so happened to need your pussy.

He pushed himself so deep inside that you felt him fill you completely, stretching you to the point where it honestly felt unnatural. You whined from the feeling, god what he wouldn’t give to have that sound playing on his phone constantly.

“It’s okay hon.. S’okay..”

He consoled you, keeping him own pace up inside of you. The sounds of wetness and nothing making him loose his own sanity. He could hear every breath, every moan, every squelch, even rustle. It felt so intimate, cause it was. Still with that grey sweater covering his body and sweatpants throw with your own shorts.

But you knew. Even if he was trying to just enjoy, oh he was holding back LIKE CRAZY. You saw in the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your skin.

“Faster. Please, Suguru..”

His name in your voice clicked in his head. And like a sleeper agent he locked the hell in. Taking your hip in his hands “sorry sorry sorry” He whispered before taking his pace from a 4 all the way to a 8. He knew he needed this, he knew he needed to let off some steam but he also knew it might cause you harm. And he’d never let his neighbor girl get hurt.

All of a sudden everything got louder. Couch creaking, squelching getting louder, skin slapping faster, and your moans. Sweet, tempting moans ran through his head in circles. Oh he needed that to the point where he would just die to have it. It felt like he died now that he got to finally let it out.

“I-I gotta be honest hon!!-“

He exclaimed, aggressively poising into you. Damn could he FUUUUUUHHHHKKK. You looked at his expression, eyes closed with mouth wide open.

“Go ON!!”

You tried to keep your voice in check without a total moan taking away your words.

“No lady ever said the tongue piercing thing!! I just kept it because- All the men you brought over had ‘em, and good Lord if I didn’t want to be them..”

He admitted. The usual reserved Geto admitting his own selfish want for keeping it in instead of taking it out. You could almost laugh at his reason if it wasn’t turning you on so much. He kept his old ways just because he thought it’d make you want him? SUCH A FREAKING CORNBALL BUT SO SWEEET!!

You wanted to tell him how much you needed to hear that, and how much you wanted him too. Whenever you brought guys over they just so happened to look similar to him, not so much of a coincidence but he didn’t need to know that. You wanted to tell him this info BAD. But you could barely let out a ‘cute’ because all that’d escape would be a moan.

So you let out a moan. An apartment shaking moan that you imagined everyone heard, but you just. Couldn’t care less. It was all for him, all these moans and whimpers for his mind to keep forever. You always wanted to be polite for the neighbors, never wanting to bother but now, you wanted to be a bother so you knew just how good you were getting dicked down.

Cursing under his breath after hearing your moans, he kept at it. Letting his black hair fall and get all over his back. Strands sticking to his sweaty forehead while he reached the deepest part of your womb. His mouth fell open to really just feel every part of this experience to the highest amount he could.

He’s bullying you with it. And he doesn’t even realize how much you’re feeling. With every thrust your boobs bounced and hair rubbed against the cushions. You felt every single vein and it absolutely ruined you. You memorized it. One was on the left side going all the way up and down while the other was just slightly at the base. A hand went to grip the cushions while the other held onto nothing. His hands still gripping onto your waist like if he let go you’d split in two.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this.. Please let me be selfish with you and let me have you like this?..”

It was a little too late to ask, but you didn’t mind. You liked that even during the moment he’d ask, like he hasn’t already been asking previously. Your mind could barely register the request before it finally was out through your skull. Letting out a chuckle you nod.

“Be selfish with me, Suguru”

That was all you needed to say before he started going at a pace only one could dream off. Missed out years caught up to him in that very moment as his cock was angrily pushed inside. Another high pitched moan escaped your mouth, as another moan did his. It felt like heaven to him, he tried to push the thought down but it did. It felt like pure and true heaven with him inside of you.

Ruthless pounding of skin making it hard to concentrate on anything else. You might have heard the neighbors knock on your walls, but you didn’t care. You both finally got what you wanted. He wanted you and you wanted him. It was all that mattered.

His thumb went down to your clit, rubbing side to side while he relentlessly pushed into you. He watched your expression change and your grip on the sofa get tighter.

“Cum with me, please. Suguru.”

You managed to let out with a strained voice. God not his name again. Anything but that. You felt your lower stomach tighten and your pussy clenching around his length pushed fully inside. And his cock buried fully inside. He continued to rub your clit, rubbing it with calculation while his own pace got aggressive.

You came first like he intended. Your legs spasming and locking around his waist. Toes clenching and eyes rolling back type of orgasm. A Earth shattering moan left your mouth, reverberating from the walls while your whole body trembles. Hot is all you could describe it, of you actually put it into words. It wouldn’t work.

He let you calm yourself on his cock before you watched his pace get sloppy and ultimately he shook as well. Shoulders shivering while he came inside the condom. All types of stress leaving him when he finally came. You felt his hands go from firm grip, to a barely hanging on grip. Watching him pull out of you slowly and then walking away. You didn’t think you could lift yourself up, se you kind of just heard what was going on. You heard the sound of a trash can opening, a sink running. And a water bottle.

He walked back. A bit frazzled but nonetheless still caring. He sat down and opened the bottle, cradling your head up. You drank, the cold water refurnishing some of your energy. He closed the bottle and placed it lord knows where. He looked at you lovingly, his guilty thoughts not running through his mind at the moment. It seemed like those things didn’t exist right now.

Slowly you sat up, bracing yourself if it was painful. Resting your back against the arm couch to atleast get a glimpse of the usually refined man. Who was now messed up panting.

You both sat there in silence. Just kind of admiring eachother before you landed on those beautiful purple eyes of his.

His eyeliner was running.

The eyeliner that he SWORE was just a stain from his youth, was running down his eyes to the middle of his cheeks.

“Leave the past behind me my ass”

He heard you and shook his head. Not deciding to answer or get mad, just letting you have the moment. His past would come up another time, but not now. Not with his hand gently stroking your sore body.

Not now. His guilt and past could wait.

E.N: HOLLLY FLIP THIS TOOK ME WAY LONGER THEN I THOUGHT IT WOULD. It’s mainly just because of my procrastination problem and also because I’m still a noob at writing sex.. #i♡beingavirgin!! Anyway!! I hope to write more for JJK men in the future, but I’ll try to keep a consistent schedule!!! Don’t take my word on it tho… Hope you all enjoy!!!! Reblogs, notes, and comments appreciated!!!!! (●’◡’●)ﾉ

#geto suguru #jjk smut #jjk geto #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #im freaky #geto x you #geto x y/n

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zoeykallus · 16 hours ago

Text

In His Crosshairs

Crosshair x Fem!Reader (Enemies To Lovers)

Warnings: Cat and mouse tension/A bit of violence/Strong language

Masterlist

Prologue

This is a Crosshair x Female Reader story, slow burn, sharp edges, and a storm of tension that doesn't let go. Enemies to lovers? Eventually. But not before distrust, fire, and silence have carved their place.

You’re a pilot, independent, stubborn, always walking the line between law and survival. You don’t pick sides. Not until the Empire’s deadliest marksmen sets his sights on you.

It starts with a warning shot. And it doesn’t stop there. ______________________________________________________________

AC:

Been gone for a long time, but I'm back for now. With a lot of help from my friend Lena, I started to write again. She's not on tumblr, but I still want to mention her here, because she did translate my stuff into English, plus a few inspirations and some dialogue parts came from her. So she had/ and probably will have, quite some influence on this project and future projects. She also wrote the Prologue, because I suck at Prologues 🙂 BY THE WAY I LOST MY TAG-LISTS! So if you want to get tagged here or on any other projects, let me know in the comments or asks!

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 1. Through the Scope

The cold bit through your jacket like teeth, relentless and sharp, even inside the rusted-out cockpit. One of those damn planets where it either rained or snowed, and of course, you’d landed on a day when it did both. You cursed under your breath while slapping the console, trying to coax power back into the battered system.

Something felt off. The job had been too vague, the contact too late. Cargo was supposed to be waiting, “harmless replacement parts,” they’d said. You didn’t care what was in the crates. You just needed credits. But now the signal had gone dead, the drop site was empty, and your gut was twisting in that way it did right before everything went to hell. And your gut was right, 99% of times.

Suddenly, you felt it. Not heard. Not seen. Just felt... a shift in the air, a weight on your spine. Something was off.

The first shot hit half a meter from your head.

Not a miss. Rather a warning.

You’d run. Blaster in hand, boots slipping over wet metal and cracked stone, breathing hard as you bolted through ruined buildings and abandoned outposts. But he, whoever he was, was always behind you. Not close. Just there. Like a ghost made of precision and patience. His shots almost forcing you into a dance.

And now, you’re tucked between two rusted-out cargo containers, breath fogging in the cold, fingers wrapped too tightly around a blaster you barely know how to use. You've never been much of a combat girl. You don't know if you’re sweating or freezing. Maybe both.

“You’re holding the trigger too tight.”

The voice comes from behind you. Smooth. Controlled. Deliberate.

You spin, heart leaping, gun raised. And there he is.

Shadowed, quiet. The long sniper rifle in one hand. Helmet under the other arm. Dark armor, almost lost in the dim light of the ruined compound. But his eyes are something else. Gold. Sharp. Measuring. He looks at you, and it feels like he's looking right through you. That tattoo around his right eye.

Crosshair.

You’ve heard his name. Whispered. Warned. The sniper who doesn’t miss. That imperial sharpshooter.

“You…” Your voice cracks before you can stop it, but you bite down, force your chin up. “You’re not a very good shot, missed me a couple of times"

There’s a flicker in his eyes. Barely. The edge of a smirk that doesn’t quite make it to his mouth. He steps forward, deliberate and quiet.

“I don’t miss,” he says. “I just wanted to see how fast you run.” Dryly and bolder than you feel, you say, "Well, fuck you, Sir"

You don’t know whether to laugh or scream. Maybe both. Your fingers ache around your blaster grip.

“What do you want? I’m not worth anything. I’ve got no intel, no connections. I'm nobody.”

He watches you. For too long. Like he's reading something behind your eyes.

“Not entirely true. Someone wants you. And I was sent to collect.”

“Are you going to?” you ask, sharper than you intend. Fear always comes out as sarcasm when you’re tired.

Another pause. Finally, he lowers the rifle, slow, deliberate. He wants you to see how he does it.

Not a gesture of safety, not a real compromise. A message: You’re still not safe.

“Not yet.”

He turns. Walks away. No rush. No explanation. Just the heavy weight of his presence fading from your line of sight, leaving you alone, your heart hammering, your lungs burning. "What the fuck...", you whisper to yourself.

And for the first time, you realize: You're being hunted.

You made it back to your ship by sheer luck and bruised knees. The hangar was quiet, far too quiet for a place that used to hum with generators and merchant shouts. Now, only the dull sound of your own heartbeat echoed between steel walls.

You'd thrown yourself into the pilot seat, hands flying over switches and controls. No power. Of course not. You muttered a curse under your breath. “Come on, you stubborn piece of sh... ”

A warning chirp lit up the console. Motion sensor: external perimeter breached.

You froze. "Give me a break!" Your breath hitched. Then, instinct took over. You dropped from the seat, grabbed your blaster, and pressed yourself against the side panel near the entry ramp.

Silence.

You heard something, footsteps. Slow. Measured. Unhurried. Like someone entering a party, making a dramatic entrance, by being casual.

The ramp hissed open. Fog rolled in around tall black boots. Armor, scuffed but maintained. A long-barreled rifle, cradled loosely like an extension of his body. And that face, sharp lines, distant, unreadable.

Your gaze caught on it again, the tattoo. A black crosshair, inked clean over his right eye, the center aligning exactly with his iris. It didn’t feel like body art, it felt more like a threat. A mark of identity and purpose.

That eye found you instantly.

“You're not good at hiding.”

You forced your voice to hold. “Kiss my ass. You’re not good at knocking.”

He stepped inside slowly, gaze never leaving yours. “Didn’t think you'd answer.”

You leveled your blaster at him. He didn’t even blink, nothing.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice low. “Shoot. See how far you get.”

You didn’t. Of course you didn’t. Because you could see it in his stance, the way how still he stood, how his hand rested casually near the rifle, but not on it. He didn’t need it. He could take you down without blinking.

“What do you want?” you snapped. “I told you, I don’t have anything worth your time.”

Crosshair’s gaze flicked toward your cargo hold. Something about his gaze told you, he knew something you didn't.

“You’re transporting unauthorized supplies. Sealed crates with no tags, no serials. You know what that means.”

“Well... actually I don't” You faltered. Because you didn’t know. You hadn’t asked. And now that he’d said it, you realized… you hadn’t seen the usual logs. No standard freight clearances. No pickup codes.

“What did I bring?” you asked quietly.

He tilted his head, just slightly. “Explosives. Medical stims. Weapons. Rebel caches.”

Your stomach dropped. You felt it, not guilt, not really. Just dread. That creeping, cold sensation that everything you’d touched had just gone radioactive from one moment to the other.

“I'm just the pilot,” you said nervous, “I... didn’t know.”

His expression didn’t change. But something in his voice tightened.

“That's what they all say.”

You bristled. “I don’t work for them, or the others... or whoever. I didn’t sign up for anyone’s war.”

“No.” He took a step closer. “You just flew straight into it.”

You backed up instinctively until your spine hit the edge of the console. He was close now. Too close. You could see the wear on his armor, the faint scar just beneath the tattoo. The way his mouth stayed a hard, straight line.

“You gonna turn me in?” you asked, voice low.

He looked at you for a long moment. That gaze, sharp, cutting, intense, felt like it went straight through you once more.

Then, finally: “Not yet.”

You paused, a little confused. What was going on?

You swallowed. “Still not? Why?”

He leaned in just enough for you to hear his words like a whisper.

“Still deciding.” A shiver running down your spine, almost making you shudder. Your body was making many weird things right now under its surface. Things you didn't really understand right now.

And with that, he turned again. Like he hadn’t just peeled you open with a glance. Like he hadn’t just cracked something in your chest you didn’t even know was there.

He walked toward the exit, paused, and spoke over his shoulder.

“Ship’s grounded. Power’s dead. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

You blinked. “Hey, wait a minute...”

“There’s a shelter in the old comm tower nearby.” A pause. His gaze holding you in place for one more second, “I’m staying there. You can freeze out here. Or not." "Um... did you just invite me to your place or something like that?"

He didn’t wait and didn't answer. He was already gone. Leaving you behind again. A soft, resigned sigh out of your lungs. You hesitated, just a second.

"Damn it!"

Finally, you followed him. Because the hangar suddenly felt a hell of a lot colder.