#others very briefly make an appearance

[arecaceae175]

Loft Gets to Have One (1) Nice Day

Summary: Loft and the very good extremely nice day. Featuring Groose, Zelda, and a board game. Written for the Bonus Links monthly prompt

Based on @bonus-links by @ezdotjpg

1251 words, fluff and humor (hopefully)

As soon as Loft slips into the slightest bit of wakefulness, he knows it’s going to be a good day. The aches and general fuzziness of his body from the past week seem to have calmed down to its normal, manageable level. He curls onto his side and pulls the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders, breathing deeply and luxuriating in the sweet smell of his partners. 

He must have dozed off; the next thing he knows, he wakes to the dip of the bed behind him. Loft groans half-heartedly and muzzles into the pillow. An arm goes over his stomach, then he feels Zelda’s soft hair tickling his cheek. 

“Morning, love,” Zelda whispers. 

She presses a soft kiss to his cheek. Loft tries to turn and catch her lips, but he’s too slow. He doesn’t mind, because Zelda laughs lightly at his attempt. The sound is music to his ears. 

“How are you feeling?” Zelda asks. 

Loft hums in content. “So much better.”

“That’s great,” Zelda says. Loft flings his arm around to try to find her for another hug, but it flops on the blankets. Zelda must have moved. 

“Ready to get up? Groose almost has breakfast ready,” Zelda says. 

“I’m coming,” Loft mumbles, voice muffled by the mountain of blankets on top of him. He does not move.

Zelda rolls her eyes and moves to the end of the bed. She gets a mischievous look in her eyes, and Loft doesn’t have time to react before she is yanking the blankets off the bed. Loft makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. He sits up and pouts. It’s hard to keep the pout, though, when he sees Zelda stifling her laugh behind her hand. 

Loft lasts all of three seconds before his resolve crumbles and he giggles. 

“It always works,” Zelda says with a shrug. 

Loft rolls his eyes fondly and holds his arms out. “I’m cold, now.”

Zelda jumps onto the bed and pulls Loft into her arms. He sighs fondly and rests his head in the crook of her neck. Mouth against her skin, he mumbles, “That always works too.”

Zelda laughs and pushes him away. Loft lets himself fall backwards onto the pillows, then rolls to the side and lets his feet slide off the bed. The momentum pulls him into a sitting position, and Loft waits patiently as the rushing in his head calms and he feels up to standing. 

“You two better hurry! I’ll eat all this without ya!” Groose calls from the kitchen. 

Loft quickly rolls onto his feet. “I’m up!” 

Loft drags himself to the kitchen and flops down in his chair, sighing in contentment. Groose and Zelda had crafted it specially for him. It has support in all the right places and extra cushioning for days when everything hurts. Loft feels their love pouring out of it every time he touches the polished wood. 

Groose carried three plates to the table, passed them out, then sat down. He rubbed his hands together excitedly as he dug into the meal. Zelda rolled her eyes with fondness and ate hers with much more grace. Loft rested his head on one hand as he picked up his toast. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Loft asks. 

“Nothing until the planning meeting this afternoon. We have the morning to ourselves. See why I wanted you up?” Zelda says with a smile. 

Loft returns it happily. A day spent with his partners is something he will never cease to cherish. 

“I got a new game at the market last week,” Groose says. “It seems fun.”

“Let’s try it!” Loft says. 

“A board game? Oh, you’re going down,” Zelda says. Loft takes it as the challenge it is.

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

“Link. My dearest angel. The light of my life. The sun in my sky, the moon in my eyes,” Groose says, leaning across the table with one hand extending to Loft. 

“Groose.”

“Will you make the trade?” Groose asks. 

Loft rests his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands. He gives Groose the biggest eyes, the softest smile he can. He tilts his head to the side just so, the way he knows Groose likes. 

“No,” Loft says, voice dripping with sickly sweetness. 

Groose’s mouth falls open in shock, and he ever so slowly collapses onto the table. He moans in agony. 

“There, there,” Zelda says, patting Groose’s shoulder. “It’ll all be okay.”

Groose turns his head to look at Zelda. “Will you trade with me?”

Zelda smiles sadly. “No."

Groose puts his face back down on the table. 

“That’s the end of your turn, then,” Zelda says gleefully. She hands the dice to Loft. 

Loft takes it angrily and shakes it around in his hand. He really needs a four. 

“Two, two, two, two,” Zelda chants. “Come on.”

Loft bites his lip as he rolls the rice in his hands. He glances at Zelda, eagerly watching him like he is easy prey, then at Groose, who has both hands braced against the table and is leaning back slightly, with a look of mild terror on his face. 

Loft sucks in a breath. He traveled the world and defeated a God. He’s the Goddesses’ Chosen Hero of Courage.

He can defeat his girlfriend in this damned board game. 

Loft opens his hand and rolls the dice. It bounces and spins across the table, past Loft’s game piece, past Groose’s, past Zelda’s far ahead. The bouncing stops, the spinning slows. All three lean forward. 

The die tilts, and lands on… two. 

“No!” Loft yells, and collapses onto the table. 

“Yes!” Zelda leaps to her feet, arms pumping victoriously in the air. She bounces for a moment, then leans over the board and moves the game pieces. 

“You got a two, so- you don’t mind me moving your piece, love?” Zelda asks, voice high with joy. 

Loft groans. 

“So you land here, which sends you here, which lets me move here and collect and win the game!” Zelda slams her piece on the WIN square. Loft groans some more. 

“You’re evil,” Loft mumbles into his sleeve. 

Zelda flips her ponytail over her shoulder and rests one hand on her hip. “It’s just skill. You wish you had it.”

Groose abruptly rises to his feet and sweeps his arm across the table, gathering all the game pieces into the case. He tucks it haphazardly under his arm and stomps to the door to put on his shoes. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Loft asks. 

“I need to collect firewood,” Groose says. 

“What are you doing with the game?” Zelda asks. Her voice is still tinged with her smile. It makes Loft vaguely nauseous. 

Groose turns around to face them and looks Zelda straight in the eye. “I told you. I’m collecting firewood. As head of this household, I’m banning this game and condemning it to a fiery death.”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” Zelda says. “Who made you the head of the household?”

They erupt into chaos. 

~ ~ ~ ▲ ~ ~ ~

Many months later, in an era Loft doesn’t know, he and his new companions are having a day of rest and relaxation. Someone suggests a board game, which Loft hastily agrees to. Mage pulls out the game, and Loft freezes. 

“Loft?” Wake asks. 

Loft shakes his head and stands from the table. 

“Nope,” Loft says, and turns to leave. 

“What’s wrong?” Wolf asks. 

“Sorry. I’m banned from playing that game. It turns me into a ‘power-crazed demon,’ apparently, according to my boyfriend. And my girlfriend. Like they can talk,” Loft says. He turns and walks out the door. 

“Oh, and try not to roll a two. Best of luck. I’ll see the survivors at dinner.”

[nottsangel]

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere. 

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing. 

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night. 

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was. 

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn. 

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house. 

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening. 

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven. 

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty. 

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever? 

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass. 

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch. 

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or…  we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face. 

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them. 

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims. 

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch? 

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster. 

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place. 

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.” 

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would. 

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot. 

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear. 

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...” 

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear. 

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew? 

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit. 

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch. 

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it. 

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside. 

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you. 

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not. 

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask. 

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin. 

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious. 

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours. 

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses. 

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail. 

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger. 

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush. 

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric. 

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears. 

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes. 

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off. 

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer. 

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh. 

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this. 

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—” 

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin. 

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.  

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.” 

Mattheo. 

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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[simpjaes]

EROTIC EMPATHY (s.jy)

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Nope. Are you about to? Yep. or the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out. 

minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it

WORDCOUNT― 12.7k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader 

CONTENT― virgin guy who lives with his parents!jake, he’s not shy but he is very clumsy, a lot of texting so be prepared for that, facetime-sex, real life sex

SIDE CHARACTERS― jay as reader’s best friend and roommate, heeseung briefly as jake’s friend.

NOTE― if you've read this before it's because im the person who wrote it [ncteez] and im revamping it for jake, pls don't send me messages on either account about stealing a work that's already mine!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags―big huge dick jake, phone sex (ish), face time sex,  masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again,  no condom aka cream pie, jake gets feelings like immediately when u touch him

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Jay with a chuckle. “yes or no?”

Jay snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.

“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend. 

You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything. 

“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m gonna say yes.”

Jay groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you. 

“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”

You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-two-year-old Jake and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”

“You’re so fucking weird.” Jay laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the same way you do.

Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.

Fucking quiet.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before 

Jake: ….i’m 21, it says that in my bio

You: I think you’re lying. 

Jake: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol

You: why would i help you lie to other women

Jake: i’m not lying!!1

You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity. 

You: ok, twenty-one-year-old “jaeyun” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?

Jake: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after

Jake: maybe it's the playlists idk

You: send me the playlist

Jake: [spotify link to a playlist titled “NUT”] 

You try not to snort, but you do. Given, he does have decent taste, but why anyone would have dynamite by bts and never say never by justin bieber on their sex playlist is beyond you. 

You: surely it’s not your playlist…….

You: anyway

You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, like, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?

Jake: yea

You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’ve never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything

Jake: u don’t think im ugly? :) 

Jake: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before

You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?

Jake: can we stop talking about why im a virgin

You: sure but you know im gonna bring it up again, right?

You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity. 

You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.

Jake, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty. 

Jake: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number] 

You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile. 

You: [screen shot// contact name: grandpa jake] 

Grandpa Jake: :| 

Grandpa Jake: im 21

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, here’s the thing. Jake is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him. 

You: it’s been like four days since we started talking

Grandpa Jake: yep, almost five

You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?

Grandpa Jake: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol

You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something

Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.

Grandpa Jake: i do NOT have a micropenis

You: prove it

Grandpa Jake: right now???

You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly. 

You: answer my question first

It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not. 

Grandpa Jake: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here 

Grandpa Jake: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!

He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least. 

You: they won’t let you have anyone over? 

Grandpa Jake: well, that too but 

Grandpa Jake: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did

You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?

Grandpa Jake: her boyfriend walked in

You: WHAT

You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind. 

Grandpa Jake: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend

You: phew 

Grandpa Jake: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not? 

The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes. 

You: yeah, sure. 

You: about the micropenis though, 

Grandpa Jake: right…um

A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first dick pic from Jake. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.

You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok 

Grandpa Jake:  just give me a sec damn

He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic? 

Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.

He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down. 

Grandpa Jake: [image attachment] 

In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Jake though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.

You: oh, you were jerking off, got it. 

Grandpa Jake: sorry can’t help it 

Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books. 

You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis

You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good and watches porn like 24/7. You can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.

Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now that’s causing him to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers. 

“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Heeseung or some shit.

“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?” 

The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it’s you on the other line sends his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as you do via text. 

God, this alone is enough for him right now. 

“Were you at least thinking of me?”

He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides. 

“Were you looking at my pictures?”

He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him to talk right now, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.

“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more. 

“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”

“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”

“Letting me come over and actually do it?” That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow and bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it. 

“I can facetime you.” 

He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately. 

“No! no, we can facetime–”

Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.

You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.

Oh fuck.

There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Looking at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.

“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”

He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.

“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”

You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at. 

“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Jake?”

“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his name come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits now, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly as he watches between your spread legs. 

In a way, he wonders if you can see how desperate he is. There’s no way you can’t, right? Like, you can see how badly he wants you, right?

“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”

He groans again with deep breaths, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it. 

“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”

You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you. 

“Better?”

Jake watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day. 

“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.

“Can I do what?  Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”

Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off. 

“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, uncaring of how dirty it sounds falling out of his throat with a moan. 

His eyes are boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy. Just like him.

His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him. 

“Is this what you want?” You start, making damn sure he can see every part of your glistening cunt. “You want to fuck this?” You chuckle now, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.

“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”

You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself. 

“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point. 

“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it, mouth falling open at the mere thought of it. 

“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”

Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes him look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.

You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered. 

His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful. 

“S-shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”

“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”

After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.

“Are you, um, done?” Jake says, disappointed.

“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”

His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off. 

“You still wanna see me after this?”

You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.

“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up. 

“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand. 

“I’ll text you later then,” You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”

You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Grandpa Jake: what about 3pm on thurs?

You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???

Grandpa Jake: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours

You: or you could just come here? 

Grandpa Jake: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol

You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird

Jake contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway. 

You: what about tomorrow, 8pm? 

Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. God, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car. 

Grandpa Jake: send ur address, ill be there :) 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Heeseung croaks through the speaker at Jake, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke. 

“Why do you have to say it that way?” Jake groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”

“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Heeseung laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”

Jake laughs, or snorts really. 

“Oh, she’s real.”

Heeseung sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest. 

“Hm? Have you already met her?”

“Kind of. We like, um,” Jake pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”

Silence.

“She got naked.”

“Oh ho ho!” Heeseung encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?” 

“That’s what I said–wait,” Jake smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Heeseung just said. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Heeseung laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”

Then he hangs up. 

Grandpa Jake: do u think im a loser?

You: yeah kinda

You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Jay.

“That him texting?” Jay quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him. 

You laugh again at Jake’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Jay that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night. 

“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Jay. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”

“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”

“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Jake sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”

“I did not need to know that.” Jay sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet. 

“You act like you don’t ask every time I fuck someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Weirdo.”

Jay stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone. 

“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend. 

“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”

He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms. 

“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”

“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.” 

He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch. 

“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on any cum when I get home.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Jake is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by. 

So many “are you sures,” so many “you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos,” and even more “i can’t wait to see yous.”

“Jay, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. 

You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Jake is doing the same, and smile.

“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”

You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.

“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”

Jay laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today. 

“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you. 

“Thanks, that’s the plan.”

And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around seven thirty. 

Grandpa Jake: i’m a little early, is that ok? 

“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Jay. 

He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet. 

“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”

You give him a knowing look before nodding. 

You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.

Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Jay is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be. 

Not only did Jake think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment. 

“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–” 

“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Jay smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”

Jake does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Jay and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside. 

“She got all cleaned up for you.” Jay whispers, throwing Jake a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Jake still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, that’s my roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen. 

“Have you and him ever like…” Jake immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird. 

“Jay?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”

Immediately Jake moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.

When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him. 

Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, yes, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating. 

He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Jake is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex. 

Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh in the short period of time you’ve known him along with how many times he’s willingly embarrassed himself

And now for the first time, he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants.

“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”

Jake tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more. 

“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the fact that this is happening. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks. 

You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Jake and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”

Jake laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.

He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you. 

Now he’s here, and you’re right there. 

It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.

You turn after grabbing him the bottle and are shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back. 

He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him. 

For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly. 

His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now. 

If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Jay’s sake. 

“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”

“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”

Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.

You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against the wall, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone. 

You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.

Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera. 

“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him. 

At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.

“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”

He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and gripping your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you. 

It looks like he’s been wanting to do this to someone all his life, with his needy body proving it time and time again. Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again. 

“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”

He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. You can feel his nervous yet eager breath against you, making your eyelashes flutter at even that slight sensation. 

“Go on then.” You sigh out, trying to prepare for what he can manage with that pretty mouth of his.

You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts. 

He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy spread out like this on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal, to the point he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here. 

He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place. 

It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in a reaction at what he’s doing to you.

Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go. 

“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” You compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Keep licking there, and use your fingers too.” 

He hums without stopping, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen. 

You can feel his fingers make their way into you shortly after, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own in response, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you. 

“Just like that,” You encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you. 

It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.

“So good,” You say shortly, trying to give him the praise he needs while scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper. 

He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.

All day. He could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.

He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach orgasm so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.

“Faster, with your fingers—“ You choke out in a drawn out and pornographic moan, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say. 

There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.

Insane, really, that he needed to taste the messy relief before resuming. 

Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone. 

You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt. 

He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his cock in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.

“Did you…?” He asks softly, dipping his head shyly with his wet chin shining in the light of your room.

You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs. 

“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and want nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, I'm gonna do the same for you.”

He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.

“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.

“N-No!  It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that– like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”

His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Jake.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”

The light in his eyes returns and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you. 

“Jake, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his name loud and clear. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.” 

Well, he can’t have that now, can he? 

He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?

Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure. 

You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth when you pull back slightly. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base. 

He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking him in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes. 

It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, even through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop. 

He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of his cock and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on him like that, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it. 

He’s in love.

He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls. 

“Wait, wait wait–” Jake groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look. 

“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.

“No!” He heaves out with fluttering lashes, trying to regain sanity. “I was just getting really close.”

“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth. 

You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again. 

His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again. 

“Ah–wait–fuck.” He tries to protest, not wanting to finish so quickly, but there it goes. There he goes.

Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His eyes roll back and his fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it– how?

“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”

You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face. 

“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice. “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”

He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?

But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him. 

“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before and letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”

He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view. 

You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well. 

“I– I don’t even know at this point.” He admits with a stammer, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.

“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”

He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against the muscles and soft skin there.

He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.

He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.

“Already?” 

He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs. 

“I want to, um…” He shifts his eyes away from you. “Can I eat you out again?”

That’s new. Twice in one session?

“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”

You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up. 

You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up in front of him. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this. 

You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again. 

His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time. 

“It’s really the prettiest.” He says in a clear and shaking voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”

You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now. 

“Yeah? You just gonna stare at it?” You try to urge him, and it works.

Because of course it works. 

You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more. 

He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him just to feel his tongue chase. He eventually holds you in place against him, big hands holding you firmly against his face with a bit of force. And now? He’s licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now. 

You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard again is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense. 

After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you cum this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle. 

He hums out a rumbled moan at the sound of your cunt squelching around his fingers. So wet. More wet than any of the girls in the porn he’s watched for years. You’re dripping around his fingers, and the smacking sound is so fucking arousing to him.

And yeah, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you. 

The sound of your pussy amplifies when it’s against his tongue, and honestly, he could cum right now if he really wanted to. Already he’s hard again, but god feeling you, hearing you, seeing you like this for him? For some guy who has never once been able to give a girl his all like this? 

He’s so focused on you.

Which for you, is a bit of an issue because he’s really not going to let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself. 

He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that. 

You pull your body away from him quickly to let your rising orgasm subside, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him. 

“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”

He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair. 

“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”

“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “If you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”

His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–

“Really?” He asks, knowing full well the answer.. 

“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct with deep breaths, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, yeah?”

He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this. 

Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His is cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.

“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no,” He breathes in a sharp breath and grips your hips. ”Do that again.” 

You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard. 

You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this. 

You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, his little rumbled grow-like moans only made this all the more arousing.

“Ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds. 

He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now. 

“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”

“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” 

He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit is fucking raw for the first time? 

“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”

He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him. 

“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you. 

You smile, humming at him when you lift from him, standing on your knees to grab his cock and position him in the right place. 

“You sure you want it too?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it. 

“Fuck, yes.” His fingers tighten against you, his eyes squeeze shut, and his voice comes out as frantic and quite frankly, a bit annoyed. “Just do it already.” 

You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation. 

He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob. 

By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him makes you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.

“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you. 

He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So fucking hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good. 

Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the new feeling. 

You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again. 

His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling. 

You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside. 

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.

That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it. 

You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.

You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you. 

He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound. 

For a moment, you think you can actually hear him unintentionally growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it. 

You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.

“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”

He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from cumming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you. 

You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely. 

You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints. 

“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, do it with me–”

Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable. 

“Oh, god. I’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.

He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy pulse around him as he continues to empty himself into you. 

It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense. 

Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good. 

By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity. 

He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.

In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (He’s being dramatic.)

All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Heeseung does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake. 

But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other woman and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.

You made him cum twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.

There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.

And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.

The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird. 

This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least. 

“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a cum-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”

He looks at you, and then at his food.

“Yeah, I guess I should…” 

“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”

It’s silent for a minute.

“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”

Thank fuck Jake is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet either. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.

Maybe you will be ready to give up the single life if it’s with Jake. 

You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?

“Hey, I should probably call Jay and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”

Jake nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out. 

“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”

You snort at him with a laugh right as Jay answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Jake’s friend than Jay whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents. 

“Hey Jay, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up. 

Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Jake and his phone. 

“Put him on speaker.”

Jake does just that, laughing at Heeseung’s reaction when he hears you speak rather than his best friend over the line. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[mystellenia]

ellie's breeding strap

summary: ellie tries out the cum filled strap with you for the first time.

content: dommy mommy!ellie, sub!reader, breeding kink, cum filled strap, mention of reader ovulating, begging, praise, one (1) pussy slap, oral (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), horndog!ellie, desperate!reader

notes: giggling at how when i started writing this i was like ‘gonna keep this under 1k words!!’

(wc 2.0k)

"baby!" you hear ellie yell out, hearing her tone turn whiny. "are you almost done? come back, please." 

"yeah, i'm getting out now!" you pull the shower curtain open as your pruned fingers wrap around the faucet handle, the pitter-patter of the shower water slowing down to a stop. wet feet sinking into the shag rug just outside the tub, you wrap yourself in your towel and dab your skin dry, securing it under your arms. 

"there you are," ellie says, moving her gaze up from her phone to follow your covered figure as you make your way across the bedroom. her eyes briefly drop to the hem of your towel at your mid-thigh before moving back up to your head. she watches you rummage through the dresser and pull out a pair of clean underwear and one of her folded oversized t-shirts. 

"ugh, i hate showering but i love feeling clean." you place the underwear on the top of the dresser and unfold ellie's shirt to look at the design. without folding it up again, you drop it in the drawer and pull out another one of her shirts, again unfolding it and holding it up to examine it. "my phone says i’m ovulating today. wanna get me pregnant?" you joke, throwing a smile over your shoulder at her to see her head perched up against the headboard and her eyes zeroed in on you. 

"whoa," you shudder while turning your head back to face the shirt again. her gaze was almost predatory, and it made a warm feeling swirl in your stomach. "don't look at me like that." 

"like what?" she mutters, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. 

you settle on this shirt and shut the drawer, pivoting to face her. "like that," you say, "like i'm a turkey leg. like you wanna eat me." you say the last part a bit quieter, intimidated by her stalking closer to you. you then become hyperaware of the single layer between your body and her, one that could very easily be discarded. 

ellie finally approaches you, her eyes flicking down to your exposed shoulders and then back up to your eyes. she raises her hand to grab a strand of hair, thumbing the wet lock and twirling it around her finger. 

"you're ovulating today," she echoes lowly, to herself more than to you. pulling her fingers back, she lets the hair fall to your shoulder and watches a drop of water trickle down from it. 

you try to appear unaffected, but your breath can't help but hitch at the cold drop of water falling down, eventually getting soaked up by your towel. 

ellie pushes your hair over your shoulder and wraps her hand around the back of your neck. she draws in and just lets her lips brush over yours, laughing at how you try to chase them as she pulls away a little. 

"oh, no, baby." she pulls your towel out from under where it was secured under your arm and lets it fall to your feet. your nipples immediately tighten at the wave of air and at her presence. you almost whine at how she hasn't looked down at your body yet, her gaze still fixed on your face. 

"get on the bed," she orders. 

your brain was fogged by lust, and you ask her to repeat herself. 

"get" —she steps aside to clear a path for you to lay on the middle of the mattress— "on the bed." 

you slowly walk towards the bed, one shy foot in front of the other, and ellie pushes on your shoulder when you stand about two steps from the bed, making you fold over onto the mattress. your knees slightly touched the floor, but your damp torso was spread across the cold sheets, your body wrapped around the edge of the bed in an "L" shape. 

you feel ellie's warm palms on your shoulders, tracing down your spine and down to your ass where she begins to roughly knead the fat. 

"mmmm," she groans, soaking up the way you squirm under her touch. she kneels down and spreads your ass cheeks to get a clear view of your cunt, puffy and crying for her. 

she presses a firm kiss to your neglected clit, and you jump, surprised by the sudden touch. sticking her tongue out, she licks a long, flat strip up from your clit to your pulsing hole. you push your hips back into her face and whine, chasing the pleasure from her mouth. 

ellie stands back up and harshly slaps your pussy, making you yelp out and close your thighs around her hand. her hand wraps around your left knee and quickly flips you over onto your back, now grabbing both knees and pushing you higher onto the bed by thrusting her hips into yours. 

"ellie," you breathlessly plead, needing more than what she was giving you. 

she climbs onto the bed to kneel in between your spread legs, your bare pussy so close to her clothed one. "yeah, baby?" 

simply whining, you lock your feet around her hips and pull her closer to you, the brief friction of her jeans on your clit making your eyes close. 

ellie drops a hand by your head and leans down to kiss your neck, sucking her way up to your lips into a messy kiss. she moans into it, her other hand trailing down to rub your thigh that was hugging her hips. she moves it down to your weeping cunt, just sliding three fingers up and down to gather your slick. your hips buck at the teasing, and you break the kiss in frustration, throwing your head back onto the sheets. 

"ask me to put my fingers in," ellie says, her eyes locked on yours. 

you lift your head back up to look at her. "i..." you try, but trail off into an embarrassed whine. 

she clicks her tongue. "come on, baby, use your words. i'm not doing it until you ask me." 

"please give me your fingers... inside, please," you murmur lowly and close your eyes, your face warming. ellie lets it slide because she needs this just as much as you, if not more. 

she dips her fingers into you and stops at her last knuckle, letting you adjust to it while her thumb rubs your clit. once you start getting restless, she pulls her fingers out and thrusts them back in, finding the rhythm that makes your moans the loudest. 

your eyes crack open to look at her, her eyes already on your face. "you look prettiest when i have you like this," she says, her eyes dropping down to watch how your pussy swallows her fingers in. 

keeping her fingers pumping inside you, she lowers her face down to your core and latches her lips onto your clit. your hips fly off the bed and you shriek, your hand flying up to your mouth to cover it. the duet of ellie's fingers rubbing your g-spot and her mouth violently sucking on your clit brings you to your climax embarrassingly fast. your hands shoot to her hair, pulling her head into you as you ride out your orgasm.  

ellie pulls her fingers out but continues to lap at you until you grow overstimulated and push her away. she kisses your stomach, then moves up to your lips to kiss them. you moan at how you can taste yourself on her lips, your cunt clenching at the thought. 

"i have something to try, i'll be back. don't let your hands trail down, yeah?" she drops one last kiss on your cheek, standing and making her way to the bathroom. you think about touching yourself while she's gone, but you quickly remember what she said and settle for just rubbing your nipples.  

after about two minutes, the bathroom door opens and out walks ellie with a new strap secured to her hips. she's ditched her shirt and sports bra, but her jeans and boxers are pushed down to her mid-thigh, seemingly just low enough for her to buckle the harness on without getting fully naked. as she walks closer, you examine it more. it's black, a little skinnier than the ones ellie normally uses, but this one is much longer. you notice a small hole at the very tip. 

"it's a breeding strap. remember how we were talking about it?" ellie says, closely watching your face to gauge your reaction. 

your pupils swell with lust, and you forget to verbally respond, instead dumbly nodding while still looking at the strap. 

she chuckles at your response, at your eagerness. "yeah?" 

"yeah," you breathe, opening your legs just slightly to not look so desperate, even though you were. 

ellie settles on the bed on her knees, lifting your legs and placing them on her thighs. she spits down onto the strap, pumping it with her hand to lube it up for you, and the sight makes your stomach tighten. 

rubbing the tip through your folds, she squeezes your thigh in confirmation. "you ready?" 

"yes," you respond breathlessly, your clit throbbing in anticipation. 

she grunts in response, pushing the tip inside. with the strap being skinnier, the stretch isn't too bad. by the time she normally bottoms out with other straps, though, she continues, and you look down in surprise, still seeing a good inch and a half left. the further she pushes in, the lower your jaw drops, a loud moan escaping your mouth once you finally feel her hair tickling your clit. 

"how you doing?" ellie asks, checking in on you. 

"yes, again. do it again." you move your body up so she can pull out faster and thrust in again. 

she smiles at how clearly you're enjoying this, and obeys. this time, she thrusts in quicker, forcing a gurgled whimper out of you. 

"fuck," she exhales. pulling out again, she settles at a faster pace, the tip deliciously prodding your cervix. 

it was clearly one of your more vocal days, your moans and whimpers bouncing off of every surface in the room, the wet slapping of your ass meeting ellie's thighs still audible. ellie only rarely got you so broken down like this so quickly, and she felt that dangerous swirling heat deep in her stomach, the base of the strap pushing on her clit at the perfect angle. 

"so deep," you manage to eke out. 

"i know, baby. so deep. gonna give you my kids, yeah?" her legs began to shake and she was starting to sound strained, telltale signs that she was getting close. she brought her hand in between the two of you to quickly rub your clit, and your moans somehow grow even louder. 

"i'm gonna cum," you basically whisper, unable to form a thought longer than five words. 

"you gonna cum?" ellie echoes and you rapidly nod. "say my name when you do." 

your moans become weak whimpers as you cum. "el- ell- fuck," you try twice and fail to say her name. her orgasm slams into her at how pathetic you sound, and her hand scrambles to squeeze the base of the strap, shooting warm cum deep into your cunt. the tightness in her stomach doubles at the sight of cum leaking out the sides of your pussy, the thought of her seed inside of you enough to make her moan. 

ellie collapses onto you, a twitching and panting mess. you lay lifeless underneath her, trying to regulate everything after a mind-numbing orgasm.  

"jesus fucking christ," she breathes out. 

you loosely throw your arms around ellie's back. "that was so good," you pant. "wanna order in?" 

"in, like, ten minutes. can't pull out yet, i gotta give it time to hold." 

i havent posted in like 2 months i think sorry my kittens. i like never post 2k words tho so stay well fed. also go drink some water bc i always forget

reblogs appreciated :')

@abbysbug @starlight-savegery @saturnsdrafts @yalaysbee @ieatpancreas

@ashlynlovestlou @macaroni676 @les4elliewilliams @jeonkio05 @leosw0rld

@elliewilliamskissr1 @urlocalelliesimp @syndicakes @euphoric-rush @yurixxiii

@montyvocx @unemployedstonerlizard @staryiuu @nevergooddreams @cherrywyn

@ghostly-bubbles @mikellie @elliesfavwife @g0d-wont-let-me-die @elliewilliamssrealgf

@visupremacysstuff @pieceofabby @distantsapphicdream @faithlehaneirl @n0t-elliewilliams

[jenosbigtoe]

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: best friend!fwb!lee jeno x reader x best friend!jaemin

warnings: 3some, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, cumeating, masturbation (m), lowkey mxm if you think about it, porn no plot (shitty “plot”)

@jenomov sorry for disappearing.. hope this helps 🤗

—

it was his idea first—you’re both single and horny and you know him the best out of anyone, besides your other best friend, jaemin. it was only natural he asked you, out of everyone, to relieve his needs while he relieved yours. like scratching each other’s backs, as he put it.

you couldn’t even pretend to hesitate about it. who cares if you’ve been best friends for years? it’s not like some fucking would throw that all down the drain—not when you’ve secretly been wanting to sleep with him and jaemin for years. it was bound to happen at some point. your best friends are hot as fuck—why wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity to fuck at least one of them? a greedy part of you wishes you could have both, but one is enough for now.

it seems that insatiable thirst you have for jeno is equally reciprocated by him—after sleeping together once, you’ve been seeing him at least every other day.

it was convenient enough. you already spent most of your time hanging out with him, jaemin, or both. except instead of playing mario kart or watching shitty sitcoms with him, more often than not he has you folded into acrobatic ways to drill his fat cock into your needy pussy.

and jeno fucks like a pornstar.

smushing your face into the mattress while he pounds you feverishly from behind. placing your legs on his shoulders so he can reach that sweet spot deep inside your pussy with his hot length. spitting on your used cunt and using his tongue to lick and fuck your hole like you’re his last meal on death row. it’s like he finds new ways to fuck you every time you hook up—and every time leaves you hungry for more.

it’s an absolute miracle jaemin hasn’t caught on by now. like really, did you both have to go to the bathroom at the exact same time for 30 minutes? did you both have to contract food poisoning and couldn’t make it to your weekly friday movie night?

it’s not like you even tried to hide it that well. fucking in your room right next to the guest room that both jeno and jaemin were supposed to sleeping in, until jeno snuck out to go see you. the sounds of sex—headboard banging against the wall, skin slapping on skin, breathy moans and low grunts—definitely should’ve alerted jaemin to exactly what you two were doing.

but jaemin still, at the very least, appeared to be none the wiser. it’s like he hasn’t even noticed the way you’ve been rubbing your ass on jeno’s boner all night underneath the thin blankets, when you should’ve been watching whatever corny horror movie that was on the tv. the way jeno is gripping your hips in a way that is more than friendly. jaemin’s back is pressed against the front of your body while jeno cuddles you from behind.

“i’m gotta go take a shower.” you fake a yawn, “i’m getting tired and i’m ready for bed.”

jaemin briefly glances over at you but you couldn’t read his facial expression in the dark. “okay. good night.” he scoots away from your body.

“good night.” you get up from jeno’s grasp and walk away, only to hear him tell jaemin, “i gotta go take a shit, i’ll be right back.” you smirk.

—

“mmph—fuck!” you curse against jeno’s hand pressed to your mouth.

with one arm gripping your waist and the other hand pressed against your mouth to get you to shut the fuck up, jeno snaps his hips into yours from behind, every movement jolting your entire body forward and sending shock waves down your spine.

“shit, baby, i can never get tired of fucking you,” he chuckles lowly.

his hips drill his cock deep into your dripping cunt, his fat girth stretching you out just like the first time. with every thrust, the tip of his cock drives deeper inside you, leaving you with an insatiable thirst for more, more.

“mmph, ah—“ you struggle to speak against the tight grip he has on your mouth.

he moves his hand from your mouth back to your waist, using all of his strength to press your body against him in a tight bear hug while he fucks you into the mattress. you suck in a huge breath of relief, gasping for air.

“jen, please! i need—“ you can’t finish your sentence as he delivers a particularly rough thrust right against your cervix. “fuck!” you squeal a little too loud.

he smacks your ass in warning. “watch it, princess. don’t want our jaemin to hear you being a cock slut for me, now do we?” his hips never falter their pace, his cock drilling into you with a mind numbing rhythm. “tell me what you want, baby.”

you drop your head. “jen, need— need more.”

he smiles and leans his head to put his lips close to your ear. “that’s my girl.”

if at all possible, his hips seem to be going faster, harder, deeper than before. you almost scream in delight, if it wasn’t for the fact that you knew he would be so mad at you. your pussy clenches around every ridge and every vein on his cock as he drags his length against your walls in an erratic rhythm.

“fuck,” he groans to himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you don’t notice the bedroom door wide open, as jaemin watches the two of you with his arms folded across his chest.

“well fuck, why wasn’t i invited in on the fun in here?” jaemin’s voice ringing through the room has your heart dropping out of your ass as you jump in fright. jeno freezes on the spot, slowly swiveling his head to see his best friend watching menacingly.

jaemin’s eyebrows are furrowed and the veins on his neck bulging.

“no, don’t let me stop what you were doing. obviously you can’t even take your cock out of her even when you have an audience.” jaemin stalks towards the two of you with a predatory look in his eyes. you both can’t even begin to move yourself from the shock of it all. fuck.

you notice the thick bulge in jaemin’s sweatpants, the look of hunger on his face as he licks his lips. you recover from the shock first—when jeno begins to say, “holy sh-“ you begin to move your ass against his cock once more, using your juices to clench and fuck jeno’s cock right in front of your other best friend.

“that’s right, baby. fuck his cock for me,” jaemin’s smirk reminds you of a hungry beast, ready to devour a delicious meal right in front of him.

noises slip from your mouth with abandon, no longer caring who heard because you’ve already been caught. jeno catches on quick—his hips moving to meet yours, slowly speeding up to the animalistic pace he had been fucking you before. you barely even notice jaemin stripping himself bare as he walks to the side of your bed, standing to the side with his red hot cock in his hand standing hard and proud. jaemin spits on his hand and rubs his cock furiously, his face scrunched in concentration as he watches you fuck his best friend like an animal.

with the added audience, jeno seems to lose himself in your pussy faster. he likes it, likes having his and your best friend watch you get fucked. your cunt drips endlessly around his hot length, allowing his cock to slip in and out of your heat with ease. the pace of his hips quickly grow sloppy and you can feel his cock twitch deep inside your cunt with every thrust now—a sign you’ve grown to know all too well.

“shit—baby i’m going to cum,” he groans. you clench harder at his words, nearing your release.

with stuttering hips, he slams his cock balls deep in your hot cunt. his cock twitches violently as he shoots his white hot ropes inside you, talking his head back and moaning loudly. “fuck.”

you moan at the hot feeling of your best friend’s cum painting your walls. slowly, you turn your head back to face your other best friend, who still has his cock in his hands and a satisfied look on his face.

“get off her,” jaemin commands.

jeno can’t even think from the mind blowing orgasm he just had. he rolls off your body and lays flat on the bed beside you, panting to catch his breath.

before you can even move, jaemin climbs on the bed and flips you on your back. he climbs over your body and traps you underneath his, his hand gripping your face and leaving you unable to move.

“look at this little slut right here. fucking our best friend like i wouldn’t ever find out.” he crashes his lips against yours, sucking and biting at your lips like you were made of candy.

“mmph—,” you moan.

jaemin pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “shut up, slut. you wanna act like a slut? you’re gonna get treated like one now.” jaemin crawls down your body and wraps his arms around your legs, forcing them apart. he uses his strength to keep an iron grip on your thighs as he inspects your cunt from below.

“i wonder how many times jeno has used this slutty pussy,” jaemin chuckles dangerously.

you squirm, with futile attempts to move out of jaemin’s crushing grip. you can feel jeno’s hot cum start to drip out of your cunt, despite your attempts to clench it inside.

you don’t notice jeno sitting up again, this time watching the two of you with renewed interest. his cock is hard again, standing erect as he starts stroking it.

jaemin uses his fingers to scoop the cum back into your cunt, causing you to gasp sharply and jerk your body around.

“holy fu-“ before you can finish your statement, you feel jaemin’s hot mouth press against your core, his tongue shoving into your used hole and licking up to flick your clit.

you scream at the sudden feeling, hands tangling and pulling onto jaemin’s dark locks. your legs shake from the attack of pleasure on your sore pussy. jaemin pays no mind—continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

before you can even realize it, your orgasm crashes down on your senses like a tsunami, waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as your brain goes blank.

your body tightens up and you toss your head back to moan loudly. jaemin’s tongue continues to attack your clit furiously, licking and sucking your through your intense orgasm. jeno rubs his cock furiously, his second orgasm approaching.

jaemin removes his mouth from your pussy with a loud pop—before he crawls back up to meet your fucked out face. he smashes his lips back against yours, making you taste yourself as he continues his attack on your lips this time. he pushes his tongue against yours to make you open your mouth—before he forces jeno’s cum right into your mouth.

you swallow it all—the taste of yourself mixed with jeno’s cum and jaemin’s mouth lingering in your own.

[sunniskyies]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k 𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )

“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.

“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”

You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”

Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”

You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.

You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.

“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”

All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.

Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…

For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.

“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”

You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!” 

“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.

As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—

Your thoughts.

A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.

You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.

You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.

Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.

You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”

His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.

“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.

“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.

“Right.”

The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.

“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.

Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”

And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.

Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”

Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.

This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.

You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.

“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.

“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted. 

“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.

“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.

“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!

“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.

Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”

He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”

You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.

You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.

And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”

Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.

“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.

In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.

You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.

Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—

Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.

You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.

Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.

“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…

Oh. Oh no.

The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.

You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.

“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.

“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?

“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.

Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.” 

You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”

You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

 @space1crow @fries11 @yasuuuudere @shadowsandswords @darling-eos

@bloodspatteredprincess @snake-in-a-flower-crown @defmxl @ryanthatsgay2

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[annwrites]

⸻ a call to arms. part one. ⸻

· pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader · type: part of a series · summary: desperate to provide aid to your starving family due to the blockade, you venture, along with a great many other lowborns, to dragonstone, in hopes of gaining something—anything—which you might bring back to them; something to fill your little sister's belly. things turn out quite the opposite as planned, as what you now believe to be a mad queen, locks all of you in her dragonpit, and you're forced to run, hide, & fend for your lives against two hungry dragons. in the end, only two individuals are left standing: hugh hammer, who has now claimed for himself vermithor...and you—chosen by silverwing. just when you believe things can't possibly get any worse, you then meet prince jacaerys. · word count: 1,674

He grinds his teeth together, filled with utter contempt—disgust—that whatever you are—bastards, lowborns, flea-ridden rats—are now, above all else, dragonriders.

And he is meant to share common spaces with you now? Such as the Great Hall? Meant to pass you in the halls and tolerate the sight of you?

To ride alongside you?

To treat you with...what? Kindness? Generosity for having 'come to his mother's aid'? He will most certainly not be treating, nor addressing you as an equal. Either of you.

To be a dragonrider...it is a sacred bond. And now he is meant to believe that even the lowest scum Flea Bottom has to offer has the same right as he to sail the skies, unleashing fire and blood upon the enemy?

Never.

He will never.

The rest of them got what they deserved for thinking they had any right to claim that which is meant only for those like him.

Queens and kings, princes and princesses, lords and ladies alike.

He is better than both of you.

Even if he is similar in ways he does not want to admit...

Boots echo against stone floors, dark curls falling over dark eyes, a brooding temperament within.

Jacaerys emerges into the Great Hall, Hugh promptly rising from his seat, bowing his head. "My Prince."

Jacaerys studies him for but a moment, briefly judging the plain-colored clothes he dons, before turning his sights across the room to you, who is seated between two stained-glass windows, arms wrapped around your bent knees, while you cast your attentions outward, instead of on him.

Your Prince.

Your superior.

He clenches his jaw at the sight of your long, silver hair that moonlight casts in an ethereal glow, making it appear as if it is sparkling. Cascading down your back like molten silver in soft waves.

"You there—girl—do you know how incredibly rude it is for you not to stand and curtsy when in the presence of royalty?"

You jolt—torn from tormented memories of but a couple days past; of people running, screaming for mercy. Dying choking on their own blood as dragonfire burns them alive.

None of you had anticipated—had imagined—that the very queen you were coming to, under the guise of offering your aid to in the war, would lock you in a room to be eaten by terrifying beasts.

Aegon deserves the throne in comparison to such a monster.

You have made a great mistake, mayhaps. Then again, becoming a dragonrider has already filled your belly, provided you with clean sheets to sleep upon, a guard outside your door, hot baths.

But it is not you who needs these things. You want them for your family.

There is no turning back now, however. You knew as much with certainty when that silver dragon laid her head at your feet before leaning forward, brushing her warm snout against your abdomen while you struggled to contain your bladder and bowels. While you sobbed hysterically, begging for mercy from a being that you do not so much as share a common language with.

You know not a word of High Valyrian, though you will now be expected to learn, you suppose.

Among many other things. Such as how to ride the animal...

Your stomach twists nervously at the thought.

You turn away from the window, slide off the ledge, then grab your skirts in either of your hands before tucking a foot behind your other ankle, bowing. "My Prince."

He scoffs, coming closer. "That was the worst curtsy I've ever seen."

You fold your hands in front of you, keeping your eyes downcast. "Forgive me, My Prince, it is...the first time I've attempted one."

He rolls his eyes, settling his arms behind his back before glancing over his shoulder to Hugh, jerking his head toward the hall he's just come from, and he quickly makes himself scarce.

He looks back to you.

"And what is your name?" He demands.

"Y/N," you state quietly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You are to look at me while we're speaking. Do you understand?"

You nod, trailing your eyes upwards—over a red-and-black velvet tunic, the three-headed symbol of his house embroidered upon the breast—until they're looking into hues of chocolate-brown.

He clenches his hands into tight fists behind his back.

You've every trademark of a pure Targaryen: silver hair, lilac eyes—with flecks of violet—skin so fair it's near-translucent, delicate features.

He fucking loathes you for every asset which you possess and he does not.

He would never—will never—state it aloud, but you look far more Targaryen than he ever will.

He wishes one of the dragons had taken you down its gullet as well. That way, he would not be forced to suffer the nigh-daily sight of you now.

He looks you over, circling you like a dragon does its prey—desperate to find something he may use to mock you with; some imperfection—before standing tall before you again.

"You think wearing rags before your Queen's court appropriate?"

Your expression quickly settles into a scowl.

Good, he thinks. Give him an excuse to introduce you to the Queen's justice. He is silently begging you for as much within his malice-filled gaze.

Your small hands clench into fists at your slender sides. "My mother made this dress for me."

His jaw ticks. "From now on, you will wear more suitable clothing when outside your private chambers—which means conservative in nature; not whatever men found desirable upon the Street of Silk. You are a representative of our house now. A dragonrider. A soldier to our cause. You will look the part."

Tears sting your eyes as yours bore into his own hatefully.

"I am not a whore," you reply contemptuously.

There is a beat of silence, his brows furrowing slightly. Surely you are lying. You have the look—more than.

And then you continue.

"And with what coin, My Prince?" You sneer.

He takes a step closer, causing you to shuffle backward, catching yourself against the window-ledge, the stone digging into your palms as you grip it to steady yourself.

He leans in close—your faces mere inches apart. "I beg your pardon?"

You do not shrink away from him.

Gods, you already hate him with all that you are.

"I came here for coin. Desperate for—"

"So greed is what sent you? Not to aid us in winning back my mother's throne? Her rightful seat. You come to steal away a dragon, and then what?"

"My family is starving!" You finally shout, at the end of your rope from the last few sleepless nights that've been filled with nightmares instead of rest; your temper having reached its limit. "My mother and little sister both! How would you feel if it were you? If your loved-ones were suffering, while all you could do is sit back and watch them waste away before you? So, yes, I came. I claimed a dragon—even if my intentions had only been merely to host audience with a clement queen who would provide aid to her suffering subjects. Not burn them alive for coming to help her!"

He grits his teeth. "You will watch your tongue, you insolent little wench. My mother sent boat-fulls of food to King's Landing. She has provided—"

You begin to laugh, with a lack of humor behind it all, cutting him off. "Oh, yes, how very kind of her to give aid to the very subjects she is responsible for the suffering of in the first place. The blockade is all your all's fault! People were fighting like dogs in the streets—assaulting—killing each other for a small sack of grain! I risked mine own life for a peck of potatoes! That's it! Even then, I was forced to wrestle a full-grown man off myself to get it. I was fortunate to escape with my life—with any food to speak of for my struggles!"

You step forward, forcing his royal highness to take a step back, and he swallows thickly.

"You've never known hunger a day in your life, have you? Never known what is it to wear 'rags' while you don your silk and velvet, while you sleep on thousand-thread count sheets, while you flout your jewels, and your fancy titles, and your gilded castles while the rest of us bow and scrape before your feet for a mere morsel of respect! You are meant to take care of us!"

Once you've finished, your heart pounds in your ears, your shoulders rapidly rise and fall, and it's then that you notice Prince Jacaerys' hand is tightly gripping the pommel of his sword—his knuckles having now gone white from the force.

Your eyes flit back to his, tears filling your own. "And I am meant to one day call you king, given we are 'successful' in our endeavors to win your mother back her glorified chair," you say, spitting the final word at him.

The two of you stand tall before the other, refusing to be the first one to break—your chins held high, even if your stomach is now twisting painfully into knots while your bowels turn to water.

If he puts you to death for your unimaginable disobedience—your disrespect...who will help your family then?

Your little sister... Your little girl.

She became as much when your mother went away in herself after your father's passing. It did not matter that you were still a mere child yourself when it happened. She became your responsibility to look after and tend to from that day forward.

And now...you feel as if you have failed her.

"Go to your room," he orders lowly, his body shaking from anger, brief pauses between each word.

You curtsy one last time.

"My Prince," you mumble, brushing past him, wanting to break something.

He stalks off in the opposite direction, feeling much the same: wanting to burn something—or, rather, someone—alive.

[alexiroflife]

"soft"

flufffffffff, reader is burned out, i love me some toji

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you ponder over how gentle toji has become with you during your time together

to sum it up: you and toji have a casual relationship, but he just may care about you a little more than he leads on

WC: 2,079

Warning(s): vaguely sexual themes

You had never expected Toji to be as soft of you as he is with you.

The Fushiguro’s hardened exterior combined with his intimidating physical appearance in addition to his unique occupation often sends people walking into the opposite direction of his path when they see him coming. He’s an uncommonly large man with a rather inhospitable air about his bulking frame. 

He’s not very friendly, for he’s often glowering daggers into the backs of people’s heads when they pose as minor inconveniences to him during his day to day, such as standing too close behind him in a line to order food or blocking his view of the television screen where the race he has bet on picks up speed. 

Toji’s a frightening man with an exceptional talent for murdering people swiftly and mercilessly. He isn’t the kind of guy you stop on the side of the road to ask for directions, for he exudes the epitome of unfriendliness. 

When you start seeing him, you truly don’t expect much but a passionate fuck and a short text every other week or so. The two of you don’t have an official title to your relationship, therefore you imagine at first that he can’t care less whether you live or die, leave or stay. 

You don’t think he’s a bad guy initially. While he’s rough around the edges and quick to agitation, he has the decency to text to make sure you get into your home safely though not the position to walk you home from his house. He also doesn’t yell at you when you notice that he is angry, though you understand that is not necessarily something that should be praised. When he’s mad, he puts forth his emotion into the way he fucks into you, hands gripping harshly around your waist while you writhe beneath him as the filthiest words you’ve ever heard in your life fly from his lips, then he’s alright, asking if you enjoyed yourself and going on about his night.

You never expected much from Toji, for you aren’t his girlfriend and he isn’t your boyfriend. But as time goes by, you notice his behavior shift ever so subtly toward you. Before you know it, he’s taking you out to grab food more often before your links, he’s letting you sleep over in his bed from time to time claiming that he ‘doesn’t feel like having to worry about you getting kidnapped on your way home,’ and he’s texting you more, randomly; asking about the movies you want to watch the next time you’re over, demanding to know what time you get off of work so you can visit him, and listening to you talk about your day as you curl up into his sheets under his arm, babbling on as he watches you blankly. 

You don’t think he’s listening to you the first time you start chatting a little while after the post-breathlessness of your orgasm has died down, but then he’s mentioning something you briefly mentioned in your rant the next day casually, tossing it into the air like it’s nothing. 

He tries to make it seem like his shift toward you is something he pays little attention to or doesn’t care about, but you know that this isn’t the case. He grows gentler with you both inside and outside of his bed, hand finding the space on your lower back as he moves carefully around you in public, palm lingering for a few seconds too long before it drops. He begins to put forth more effort toward cleaning you up when he’s done with you, smoothing his calloused hands over the aching muscles in your thighs and bum and running you a shower to wash the fluids from your skin. And his jade green eyes melt into something softer when he looks at you, his expression flat but his gaze cradling you within his vision as though you’re a priceless gem he’s just discovered, something that he must admire and protect. 

Your fling with Toji no longer feels like a fling. Instead, his free time is opening up for you, his phone no longer pings with the names of foreign women, and he’s shamelessing telling you to stay with him as much as you possibly can. He acts so nonchalant about it, but you know it’s a sudden, yet pleasant change for the both of you.

What stuns you the most, however, during this steady transition in dynamics between the two of you is the way he first reacts to your rather rare instance of vulnerability. You’re exhausted, work tiring you to the point where you feel like practically collapsing to the ground face first, your mother nagging you about finding a more stable career, and your rent gradually rising with each passing month you spend in your apartment. You’re completely overwhelmed, feeling trapped within your own skin, and you’re so caught up in your stress that you forget Toji is visiting.

You open the door after you hear that familiar knock pattern of his and greet him with tired eyes and a slumped posture. He towers over you, eyes dragging over your figure to analyze your state. His brow quirks when he examines you, stepping into your apartment after you hold the door open for him. The moment he closes the door, he’s onto you.

“What’s the matter with you?” he poses the question lowly, tilting his head to get a better look at you with his hand on his hip. 

That’s all it takes for you to break down.

Embarrassingly enough, you’re ducking your head and crying before him, shoulders tensing as your hands come to shield your face. Your gentle sobs wrack your frame, and you feel humiliated. 

Toji’s eyes go wide as he looks at you, caught off guard. He isn’t sure if it’s something he has said that’s got you crying all of a sudden, but he feels his heart clench at the sight of you in pain. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffle into your palms. “Rough week.”

You half expect the dark haired assassin to turn away and let you melt down on your own, promising to come back another time, but instead you feel strong arms envelope your figure and wrap you into his chest, holding you softly yet with security at the same time. Your shoulders jerk in shock before you’re crying again, the comfort of Toji’s hold absorbing you into his chest as you continue to weep into your hands. “Alright, girl,” he murmurs gruffly, tilting his chin down to rest his lips against your head. “Let it out.”

His hands, tinged with the blood of millions, gripped with the memory of gruesome deaths, caress tenderly over your back as he wraps you up tighter, sheltering you within his mass. You tremble as he holds you, chest quivering as you snivel in a distorted pattern. Toji can feel you twitching uncomfortably against him, trying to catch your breath.

“Breathe,” he instructs with firm consolation, his hand motion over your back soothing into circles. You whimper, attempting to follow the pace of his breaths that you feel rising in his broad chest. You quiver, struggling a bit more before your breaths ease into a steady pace that mimics his own. “That’s right, you got it. Nice and easy,” he says into your hair.

You nod stiffly against him, pushing your hands down from your face to wind tightly around his waist, sinking further into him. He lifts his chin to look down, trying to sneak a peek of your hidden face. He sighs, bending down to tuck his arm under your knees and keep the other firm against your back. Your arms adjust, winding around his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder as he carries you to your room. 

He sits down on the edge of your bed, keeping you swaddled in his arms. He nods his head down to you, nudging against your forehead to urge you to look at him. You pull away and look up, teary (e/c) eyes swimming with sadness and weariness. Toji twists his lips up to the side, scar stretching with his movements, and he stares tenderly at you, lifting a knuckle to brush at the dampness on your cheeks. You shiver, unfamiliar with this delicate, attentive side to Toji. His face is hardened as though he’s mad, but the concern in his orbs and the fragility of his touch tells you otherwise, that he is only concentrated intensely. 

His thumb wipes at the corner of your lips where a tear or two has drifted before inhaling slowly. “You all there with me, now?” he asks, his voice a low murmur, and you nod, suddenly feeling foolish. He hums in approval, fingers smoothing over your hair. “Good. Now who did this to ya?”

You shake your head slowly. “No one,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Well, it can’t be stupid if it’s making your pretty self cry.” You gaze up at him with round doe eyes rimmed with pain. Toji didn’t know how much he hates the sight of you upset until now. “Out with it.”

You shrug, sniffling as you unwrap your arms from his neck and lower your hands into your lap, picking at your nails. “I’m just so tired,” you mutter. “Everything’s been so hectic, I haven’t had a chance to breathe.”

Toji’s eyes search your face as you avert your gaze, shrinking into yourself. “For how long?”

You shrug again. “A few months maybe.”

“You ‘been holding everything in for months?” he repeats incredulously. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know…” you frown, a single tear dribbling down your cheek when you blink. Toji’s chest tightens at the sight. “I’m used to pushing through, I guess. Plus, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Toji’s brows pinch together as he marvels at your words. “Now that’s stupid,” he sighs. “What you need is a break.

“But I don’t get to take breaks. I have to work so that I can keep the lights on, and rent is due in two weeks but I still have-”

Toji ducks down to shut you up with a featherlike touch of his lips to yours. You stop, subconsciously returning the soft peck with a pout, his hand moving to cradle the side of your head. He pulls away, smirking lightly. “You talk too much.”

He’s then standing up, lifting you along with him, and turning around to lay you onto your sheets. He kneels down, pressing a kiss to your knee, taking off your socks and tossing them aside, then shrugging you out of your jacket. You watch him with slightly baffled red eyes as he touches you as though you’re going to break, each brush of his hand against your skin softer than the last. 

He props up his hands on either side of your thighs on the bed, crouching to pepper soft kisses from your hip up to your abdomen, then over your chest to your collarbone and shoulder. He ducks to kiss your lips gently once more before pulling away to meet your eyes. “Don’t you move an inch from this bed, y’hear me?”

“Wh-”

“Don’t ask questions,” he interjects. His hand is gripping your cheek as he kisses you one last time before pushing himself off of your comforter and away from you. “I’ll be back. I’ll grab you some food, you just text me what you want.”

You ogle at him in awe, nose red as you sniff. “But… what about… tonight…?”

“Don’t stress about that. I gotta take care of you first.” 

He tells you he’ll only be ten minutes and to text him your order before leaving your room. 

You freeze up when you see him stick his head in your door. 

“Oh, and let me take care of that rent for you. You just lay out the details when I get back,” he says, and then he’s gone, leaving you stunned and tear-stained. You did not expect Toji to react so swiftly or understandingly to your predicament. By the way he swept you up and held you, you would have thought that you’re his girl. 

You sigh, sinking back into your pillow with a fuzzy feeling bursting in your chest. Who knew that Toji Fushiguro, the man of steel with cold, calculated brutality in the face of his targets, could be so compassionate?

[feeder86]

Guy Again and Again

Hyde Park was incredible during the Fall. Guy couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else when the leaves started changing colour. He’d lived in London for three years now and had happily started to put down roots. Like any major city, he’d paid an absolute fortune for his house, but it had been necessary to set himself up and enjoy all that the city had to offer. There was always something happening, always new folks to meet and beautiful people to seduce. When he’d been offered a role back home for even more money, he’d declined it, using it as leverage instead to climb even higher up in his company and then side-step into yet another high paying position at another firm. His ambition was celebrated here and Guy earned himself the cringe-worthy reputation of being one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

“Guy, won’t you come and meet my young lad?” called Sheridan, as Guy was strolling through to his large office.

Guy sighed and glanced quickly over at the others in the space, knowing that they were all feeling exactly the same way. Whilst this was an incredible company to work for, the nepotism involved in the majority shareholder inserting his twenty-two year old son into such a major position, straight out of university, had frustrated them all.

Following the company’s owner into his office, Guy plastered a happy enough smile onto his face and held out his hand to shake the young man’s hand. He’d seen pictures of Robert in the past, on his father’s yacht and throughout the tabloids as he dated London’s latest ‘It Girl’ setting all the fashion trends. They’d also briefly crossed paths the summer before last, when using Robert’s family’s private box at Wembley Stadium. Soccer was a huge game over here and Guy had found himself quite captivated by it.

“Nice to see you again,” Guy offered, shaking the handsome boy’s hand.

“Robert is very keen to get started!” his pompous father announced happily. “I’m sure he’s just what this company needs: a bit of fresh energy injected into it.”

Guy nodded, despite feeling that Robert was going to be nothing more than dead wood for them all to carry. “We’re all delighted to have you here!” he lied.

“My father says you’re the absolute best,” Robert chimed in. “I think he seriously believes you’re going to rule the world one day! I’m definitely looking forward to learning from you this week.” 

Guy knew he had been stitched up straight away. “Let me guess. You’re shadowing me this week?” he asked tentatively.

“That’s the plan!” Sheridan nodded, already grabbing his jacket to leave for his golf match at ten.

Guy looked outside into the corridor to see all the sly, grinning faces of his colleagues. They’d all known he was about to be saddled with the new boy, even before he did. Leading the way down the corridor, he noticed an additional computer had been set up at his enormous desk, with space for Robert to work alongside him; typical Sheridan making ridiculous calls yet again.

Robert was generally pretty intelligent and seemed to pick up on what Guy was saying with little effort on his part. Professionally, he appeared no different to the genuinely ambitious young interns they had on the floors below. But, in reality, he was so far removed from them, starting a job at the same level that had taken Guy ten years to even qualify for; not to mention all the incredible hard work and many, many promotions and job changes to get where he was. Indeed, Robert’s privilege was obvious by the way he talked about his travelling and the numerous powerful people he had known ever since he was small. Perhaps, in some ways, that did make him better suited to fly up the ranks early. Robert wasn’t daunted by the bigger clients and there was a sharpness to his mind that was sometimes quite surprising.

“How’s the babysitting going?” asked Angela slyly during the brief time Guy was on his own.

Guy smiled back. He wanted to joke and tell her off for not giving him the heads-up about being stuck with Robert this week. But, to be fair, everything was going fine. “No complaints from me!” he replied, reminding himself that complaining about something that couldn’t be changed was a fruitless exercise at work.

They both stopped talking, watching as handsome Robert emerged from the bathroom looking as sharp as ever: the beautiful hair, the eyes, the strong jawline. Behind him, the female staff couldn’t help but get a peek at those tight glutes and imagine being the lucky lady who would one day get to marry such a fine, well-bred specimen as him. “Are we ready?” he asked Guy, pleased to be heading out to meet clients again; knowing that this was where he could excel.

Getting around London could be a nightmare at times. Occasionally, it was genuinely faster to walk; exactly what ended up happening after roadworks had made it likely for them to be late otherwise. The client was a man called Mr Geoge Evans, owner of an events space that the company wanted to acquire. He was tall and broad, with an immense, solid and rounded gut pushing against the large shirt painted across his torso. It was the feature that most people noticed first about him and the one thing Robert couldn’t seem to stop staring at the moment they started their meeting.

Guy remembered feeling embarrassed and wanting to kick Robert hard for the way he was looking across at the gaping buttons on George’s shirt. After everything he had said about being okay with having this young upstart shadowing him that week, the boy had to ruin it almost instantly. Guy thought on his feet, finding a reason for Robert to need to leave the room and contact the office. Then Guy quickly rounded the whole thing up as fast as he could.

“What the fuck was that?” Guy grumbled as soon as they were walking to the tube station, given that their car had still not been able to reach them.

“What?” Robert asked, trying his best to keep up as Guy stormed on. He didn’t lack self-awareness; he knew exactly what he had done and why Guy had felt the need to remove him from the meeting. “I wasn’t expecting him to be so…”

“Fat?” Guy finished for him. “That’s so ridiculous! You know that right?”

“I was just a little surprised, that’s all. When we spoke on the phone…”

“This is business!” Guy began lecturing him. “You can’t fall to pieces just because some guy doesn’t fit into your perfect world-view of what everyone should look like. You need to get your head out of those glossy magazines you and your girlfriend seem to spend so much time in!”

“Look, I’m not like that!” Robert tried to counter his mentor. “That’s not why I got a bit flustered.”

“Whatever,” Guy sighed, racing down the steps to the tube station. Ultimately, he wouldn’t be able to hang onto this misstep. Robert’s family were the majority shareholders and, no doubt, the twenty-two year old would one day take the reins of the entire company.  “Look… there’s no harm done. Just… just don’t ever let that happen again, alright?”

Robert nodded, tapping his card to head down to the Central Line. “I promise!”

Guy didn’t mention the staring incident to anyone when he got back. Robert had been exemplary the rest of the time and it was clear that he had a talent to make it far; especially given his Oxford education. As the weeks progressed, he began to shine more and Guy learned to genuinely appreciate his insight into certain things. Sometimes British etiquette eluded Guy, especially with the types of folks who had been born into extreme wealth, like Robert had.

Likewise, Robert appeared to be impressed with Guy’s talents in return. “You’re pretty smooth when it comes to the ladies,” he laughed as they came out of one meeting.

“Plenty of experience!” Guy joked back.

“I’m guessing that’s why you work out so much?” the pretty boy asked. “It’s not as easy to sweet talk a female client when you have a giant gut spreading into your lap,” Robert chuckled; not realising that his joke would fall so flat.

Guy tried to bite his tongue. It had been the second time Robert had been casually sizeist. “Actually,” he shot back, “some of the most successful business leaders feel being larger gives them more presence to take charge of things.”

“That’s not what my father says,” Robert replied.

“Well, your dad doesn’t know everything,” Guy grumbled back, deciding to shut down the conversation before he started getting annoyed.

At the end of that first month, Robert had offered Guy to come along and watch the international football match in the private box at Wembley Stadium. He would be there with his girlfriend, of course, but Guy was also welcome to bring along a date as well. Martha had been Guy’s instinctive choice. She was loud, greedy and extremely overweight: the perfect choice to annoy someone so superficial and quick to judge others for their weight. Guy called her up, pleased with his plan, but was disappointed to hear that she was back home in Glasgow that weekend. He needed to find someone else - fast!

Ben had been the next choice for Guy. Somewhat smaller and more reserved, but always fun to be around. They had met at a club night for bears about two years earlier, when Guy had been intrigued by the little chub’s confidence to stoll about shirtless through the crowds. Happily, still single, Ben agreed to the date and Guy was delighted to find the man looking so much heavier by the time he went to pick him up. “Look at you!” he marvelled, getting out of his sports car to open the door for the large man waiting outside his apartment block. “Someone has been eating well!”

Ben blushed a little. He knew that for many chub-lovers, seeing someone they had slept with getting even bigger was bound to be a turn on, and he patted his large tummy proudly on the vast shelf that had developed. “I’m pleased that you approve,” he smiled, knowing that he was always in for a fun night whenever Guy asked him out.

The young couples’ faces had been a picture when Guy strolled in with such a large bear as Ben. It struck him that perhaps Robert hadn’t realised Guy’s bisexuality, making it a rather more educational experience for the boy that he had perhaps expected. Ben played his part well, naturally gorging himself and failing to notice his belly peeking out of the bottom of his shirt as he got up and down to cheer at the performance on the pitch. As such, Guy lavished him with attention, proudly driving him back home for his reward. He’d more than made his point, hopefully putting an end to the way Robert would try to casually fat-shame others around him.

Back at work, Robert’s new office had been decked out just as he had requested, shunting Angela down to the floor below. Despite the slow start last month, even Guy winced at how much the new recruit was taking on.

“Wendy has come to me asking to negotiate her pay,” Robert explained, walking into Guy’s office and closing the door. “I’ve been told pay reviews only happen in April?”

“That’s bullshit,” Guy replied, trying to get on with his own analysis work. “That’s just a standard line that is thrown out to try and delay these types of things.”

“Well, either way,” Robert continued, sitting himself down in front of Guy’s desk. “Paying her more is going to dent the progress towards the quarterly profits.”

“Then what does your gut tell you to do?” Guy asked, determined not to spoon feed Robert out of these awkward situations.

Robert paused for a second. “I think we need to give it to her.”

Guy looked up and smiled. It was the call he had never expected Robert to make. “Exactly right,” he nodded. “Wendy is an asset. I know Wendy. She deserves it. And, if you didn’t give it to her, she’d be straight off to another company. Finding a replacement for someone with her responsibilities is time-consuming and costly.”

“I knew you’d view it the same way as me,” Robert smiled. “You always see the bigger picture. Sometimes I feel like my father can’t.”

Guy nodded gently, not wanting to commit to badmouthing the major shareholder in front of his son, despite all the many things he could have said.

“You see people for who they are. And you have the sort of relationships around here that most bosses would kill for. They all respect you and want to work hard because you inspire them.”

Guy almost felt embarrassed at the open compliments and he wriggled in his seat. “Thanks,” he shot back quickly. But there was something in Robert’s eyes; a look, or a feeling. Was the boy developing a little crush on him? All the signs were there and Guy had been in this situation many, many times in the past. He watched Robert walking away, unable to stop himself from checking out the handsome glutes and allowing his mind to imagine what it might be like to fuck the guy. He wasn’t above Robert in seniority around here; there was no major conflict to overcome; especially since he only saw himself staying for another year at the very most. But could he really go there?

It came as no surprise that Robert’s relationship with his girlfriend came to a sudden end very quickly after that. He’d been complaining for some time about the toxic ideals of social media and the constant requirement to be ‘seen’ out in public as often as possible in order to boost her career. “She’s more suited to some actor, or someone who does publicity for a living,” Robert had explained as he shook his head over the fact that their break-up had made it into the middle sections of the national tabloids.

“You’re young, free and single now!” Guy had smiled. “You can take some time for yourself instead.” He hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious, but he didn’t seem to be able to help himself once he knew someone was into him. It was the way he had always been, and he didn’t suppose he would ever change.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” asked the attendant, heading over to their table in the small cafe where they were debriefing after a client meeting. The man was large and broad, with a giant stomach that pressed out of his shirt in a way a lot of the men from Guy’s past would have loved.

“Just a mineral water for me,” Guy answered first. He looked across at Robert and sighed in frustration as the boy stared rudely at that large gut. 

This time, Guy didn’t waste any time, giving Robert a quick kick under the table.

“A latte!” Robert shot out, realising immediately that he’d been gawping. “And, uh… have you got any of those brownies left?”

“What the fuck is up with you?” Guy asked the moment they were alone again.

Robert shrugged as if he genuinely failed to understand why he fell to pieces around such obese men. “What do you think it’s like, carrying all that weight around?” Robert asked, still transfixed as the guy headed behind the counter. He glanced back at Guy who was dumbfounded by the question. “Oh, come on…” he sighed. “I saw you with that big guy that time. You must have asked him what it feels like to be so heavy?”

“It’s not something I think about,” Guy replied, seeing that Robert looked unlikely to drop the question unless he gave a more considered answer. “But, I guess I wouldn’t date someone unless they liked their body.”

“Really?” Robert asked. “You date people who actually like being overweight?”

Guy didn’t mind discussing his sex life, but it felt strange to do so with someone from work; someone he wasn’t completely sure he could trust just yet. Back in the early days of his career, it had been slyly advantageous to impress other guys with tales of his sexual conquests. However, as he rose up the ranks, he’d learned to keep these stories to himself, knowing that the expectations were very different up at the top. Now he shrugged, taking his time to reply and only say what he needed to. “There’s nothing sexy about dating someone who hates their body. When I’m with larger folks, it’s usually because they want to be that way. They get off on it.”

Robert sat up a bit and leaned in closer, stimulated by the conversation. “There are people who get off on being fat?”

Guy chuckled. “Of course there are!” There was still so much he could tell Robert; about the gainer boys he had fallen for in the past, and the multiple kinky encounters he had had with guys who were actively trying to fatten themselves up.

The water, and Robert’s brownie arrived at the table and the server promised to follow with the latte shortly. “How do they do it?” Robert asked, eyeing his freshly delivered treat. “How do they let themselves go like that?”

Guy frowned slightly. “Well, what you may see as someone ‘letting-go’ may actually be them building something better for themselves: a body that feels right for them and turns them on. It’s actually very empowering if you think about it.”

“And you think that’s sexy?” Robert asked earnestly; a sweet innocence shining through his bright eyes.

“Of course!” Guy nodded. “Someone loving the skin they’re in - there’s nothing sexier!”

Life at the office suddenly became a lot more relaxed as Sheridan started to take even more of a step back. Guy found himself with a lot more power to persuade the board without the older man’s old fashioned points of view tainting things. It also helped that Robert was so much more in-tune with him; they could present a united front and, although most of the others on the team still grumbled about Robert’s injection into the senior management team, they had to admit that things were running a lot smoother with him around.

Guy had seen so much more of the world since he had moved to work in the UK. It seemed like nothing to pop over to Italy to secure a contract, or fly over to Dubai to capitalise on a lucrative opportunity. Six months after Robert began at the company, the pair found themselves in Sweden, leading part of a business conference. At first, Guy had been frustrated to have Robert coming along, given that it was such a good opportunity to network and find his next career jump. However, it had also been easier having him to share the workload with.

“I didn’t know you were coming down here,” Guy smiled as he saw Robert arriving in the spa changing room just as he himself was dressed only in his tight speedos and pushing the last of his things into the locker. He saw Robert check him out and smiled sweetly to himself. He’d known for a couple of months now that if something was ever going to happen between them, then it probably already would have happened by now. As it was, Robert was very much in the friend-zone. “Are you here to use the pool?” he asked.

Robert shook his head. “I just wanted to try out the sauna,” he replied.

Guy scowled a little as Robert turned his back to start getting changed. In the last few weeks, he’d noticed a little softening of the guy’s jawline and, although it wasn’t always easy to tell under a shirt and dress pants, it did appear as though Robert had gained a few pounds since he’d started full time work. Guy should know, he’d seen more than enough pictures of Robert’s body in the celebrity gossip columns, back when he was dating socialites. So when Robert removed his shirt, Guy could immediately see that his suspicions had been spot on.

It was most obvious when Robert leaned forward to strip his pants; the way his stomach rolled up with fresh fat. He had love handles coming in, clear to see once he turned his back. And those glutes… well, they seemed a little more full that the pert buns Guy had admired when Robert first started at the company. Guy had to say something. He’d been staring too long. He reached out a finger and poked Robert in his stomach. “What’s all this?” he playfully teased.

Robert chuckled nervously and shrank away, turning back around to put his stuff into the locker.

“No, seriously,” Guy pressed on, poking both index fingers into the softness at Robert’s sides now. “Where’s all this come from?”

“I’ve just… not had much time for the gym lately,” Robert replied, stacking his clothes up.

Guy looked at Robert’s butt from behind and nodded in agreement. “Well, that’s pretty obvious!” he agreed. He’d seen lots of guys at the gym start to pack on a few pounds over the years. Often, all they needed was a reality check to get them back on the right path. “I think you need to start doing a little more cardio, buddy,” he declared, turning to walk out and into the pool area.

After a few decent laps, Guy pulled himself out of the water and headed into the sauna, finding Robert still in there, alone. His skin had turned glossy and oily, shimmering as his little roll of stomach fat started to peek over the waistband of his undersized swim shorts.

Guy knew how imposing his own body was: his large frame and well-trained, muscular physique. Even in his early thirties, there wasn’t an inch of fat to spoil his enticing abs and, if anything, he���d only become stronger as the years went by. He flopped down opposite Robert, unable to take his eyes off how chubby the pretty boy looked without his shirt on. 

“So, when did all this start happening?” Guy asked, knowing that he needed to address what he was seeing.

Robert wriggled awkwardly and pulled his rolled up towel to cover his crotch and lower half of his softer midsection. “A few months,” he mumbled. “I’ve just been enjoying my food a little more.”

“No kidding!” Guy chuckled, surprised now by how much he could see the extra weight, even in Robert’s chest. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Robert shrugged. “I don’t have the time to go to the gym now I’m working so much.”

Guy smirked at this and shook his head. “You mean you don’t want to make time for it?” he asked.

Robert flushed with a little embarrassment. “I’m okay with how I look,” he replied. His attention seemed to turn to Guy’s body instead, given how much scrutiny his own had been under. “Frankly, I had no idea you were so extremely toned,” he nodded at Guy’s torso. “Obviously, I knew you were super fit, but…”

“You’ve never seen me without my shirt on before?” Guy asked, intrigued and surprised at how aroused he was suddenly feeling to be gazed upon by Robert. He sat up straighter and leaned on one arm, posing slightly. There was something so sexy about this dynamic, making Guy feel more powerful and dominant. “How come we’ve never fucked?” he asked, knowing that it was always best to be blunt with the boys who were a little more shy.

Robert’s eyes widened and he stuttered awkwardly, like the overeducated, pompous boy he could very often be. Guy had always loved Robert’s upper class, bumbling English accent and the uptight manners that had been trained into him. It made it all the more fun to tease and flirt with him so blatantly. But with a larger company openly trying to poach him at the moment, Guy knew there wouldn’t be many opportunities like this left to have some fun with the boy. After all, the full benefits package was going to be presented to him as early as next week. He could be gone by the end of next month.

“Well?” Guy asked, pretending to be impatient for an answer. “Do you want to fuck?”

Within ten minutes, the pair were upstairs in Guy’s hotel room, kissing and undressing each other once more. Now that the barriers had been smashed down, Guy was surprised at how keenly Robert’s hands wanted to rub up against and stroke Guy’s erection. The moment the pants were down, the cute boy sank to his knees and took as much of it into his mouth as he could.

Guy exhaled in delight. It was always apparent when someone was genuinely into giving the best blow job they could. It was obvious now just how much he had underestimated Robert’s quiet attraction to him all these months. Like a tightly wound spring, the boy had energetically set to getting them both off the moment the bedroom door had closed, lustfully thrilled by how thick and heavy Guy’s hardness was.

The pair fooled around some more, Guy enjoying the reflections in the large mirror as the pair kissed in front of it. Those doughy little glutes of Robert’s looked so good, Guy knew he needed to take them as soon as he could, squirting lubricant into his hand and sliding it up between Robert’s butt cheeks. He spun the boy around in front of the mirror and gently inserted himself. He knew Robert wouldn’t be fully ready to take him today. It was a gift and a curse being so well endowed, with lovers needing at least two or three sessions to be properly broken in. Instead, Guy contented himself by getting as much in as he could and holding it there, training the hole to stretch. Submissive Robert appeared to love every second as he was held there, in front of the mirror.

“Does this feel nice?” Guy asked the boy, reaching around Robert’s hip to stroke his concrete erection; Robert watching himself getting taken by the older jock in the mirror.

Robert moaned back, his G-spot stimulated, sending his arousal into overdrive.

“Look at us…” Guy whispered, nodding towards their reflections in the mirror.

“I’m so chubby compared to you!” Robert quipped back, making a huge surge of blood pump through his boner, held firmly in Guy’s hand.

Suddenly, it all felt so very familiar to Guy. Robert’s fixation with larger guys had never been about looking down on them. Yet again, had the universe delivered another kinky fat-lover? Guy pressed his oversized erection in deeper, making Robert’s knees almost buckle underneath him. With one hand working Robert’s hardness, Guy used the other in a more experimental way, wrapping his fingers around as much of the fresh blubber in the boy’s stomach as he could, then whispering “It’s a good job you know I like fucking fatties, huh?” he teased. “You’re going to make such a cute chub…”

However close Robert had been before, a surge of pleasure seemed to rip through him. Great jets erupted from between his legs, making Guy chuckle at just how much of it there was and how forcefully it was being expelled from his body. He could always tell when he had just given someone the best orgasm of their life. And, for the first time ever, Guy felt that he didn’t need to climax himself in order to feel completely satisfied.

It was sweet how Robert fell asleep next to him afterwards. Sometimes when the sex was too good, Guy found that whoever it was would tend to imprint on him and become a little possessive. Usually, this was a warning signal for Guy to detach himself as fast as possible. However there was something too intriguing about Robert to give him up just yet. At 5am, he woke Robert with a kiss to let him know he was going down to the hotel gym and promised to meet him for breakfast at 6.30.

“No wonder that ass is so fuckable!” Guy teased, gazing at the plate of fattening meats and carbs Robert returned to their table with. He slipped his hand under the table, rubbing Robert’s knee. His intentions were clear: they were going to go back up to the room before the first session that day. He watched the greedy boy eating, wanting nothing more than to stick his hardness into the salivating mouth. For the first time, he found himself almost captivated by it; the act of eating. Robert definitely had some little hidden kinks when it came to the diet that had added a few pounds to his frame, yet it wasn’t yet clear how conscious he was of them.

Back in Guy’s bedroom, it was obvious how much Robert had overeaten and bloated up his stomach. Despite wanting to get rough and dominant with him, Guy took it slow and made it sensual, noticing how much Robert seemed to love it whenever Guy’s hand drifted onto his rounded middle. The eventual climax was as good as it got, ensuring that Guy broke all his own rules and brought Robert back to his bedroom a further three times before the end of the conference.

Robert’s butt was becoming quite the distraction back in the office. With the guy’s pants getting so tight, the swollen glutes pressed with devastating allure to the material: wider, under-exercised, softening and expanding - was there a more fuckable butt than this in the entire world? Guy knew he was in trouble when Robert bought concert tickets for them both for that weekend. They were slowly morphing into a ‘couple’ despite the secrecy that surrounded everything. It was the point when Guy typically made his excuses and cut things off. Yet something kept him from doing this. When Guy’s job offer came in, he convinced himself that it wasn’t a big enough deal to leave London for; getting his teeth stuck into another major project that would see him wanting to remain in his current job for at least another six months.

“What’re you all laughing about?” Guy asked, diverting into the little kitchen area whilst he was seeing someone on the floor below.

A small group of six people suddenly looked alarmed and stared at him nervously. Guy had had to accept that his seniority in the company meant he would never again be invited along to nights out with the other staff, or be included in the way he had been when he was just starting out. It was just the way these things seemed to work; those nervous eyes looking up at him whenever he ventured out of his lavish office on the top floor. 

“Nothing,” shrugged one of them, who seemed to be in the middle of it all.

“Oh, come on!” Guy smiled back. “I could do with a laugh today.”

There was a sigh. “Alright,” the lady shrugged, stepping closer and holding out her cell phone so that Guy could see the screen. “It’s an article about that jumped-up little Oxford graduate upstairs,” she grumbled, referencing Robert; the nepotism of his hiring still failing to impress those lower down in the food chain; those who had to work for everything they achieved.

Guy stepped in to see as she scrolled down a celebrity-obsessed tabloid webpage that Guy had never paid much attention to. He scanned the text briefly, but it was obvious that the pictures were the main focus. There was Robert of one year earlier, looking toned and athletic as he shirtlessly strolled about on his father’s yacht. However, it was the pictures from only last night that provided the entertainment. Robert had been attending a socialite party with some friends, dressed in an unwisely tight shirt that failed to stretch with the addition of a couple of bloating beers. His pants had been a poor fit too, pinching in at his hips and accentuating new love handles that looked particularly unflattering from the angles they had taken. The double chin on Robert also came under scrutiny, with a close up shot from a low angle making it seem more developed than it actually was.

“I didn’t think fat-shaming articles like this still existed,” Guy exhaled in frustration.

“That’s the British press for you,” one of them chuckled; another American, like him. “Fucking ruthless!”

Guy scowled. He wasn’t laughing. He raced back up the stairs and tapped on the window of Robert’s office, beckoning for him to follow. Once inside, he rolled down the blinds and immediately jumped on his computer. “There’s something you need to see,” he declared to a bemused Robert. Once uploaded, he rolled his chair back and allowed Robert to step in front and see the screen for himself.

“What a bitch!” Robert laughed, recognising the name of the journalist. Everyone seemed to know everyone else in Robert’s world. “This is one of the most vicious things I’ve ever read about myself,” he smirked.

“Aren’t you pissed about it?” Guy asked, feeling exasperated at Robert’s laid back attitude. “We can send it to the legal team; see if there’s anything we can do to have it taken down.”

“And then sue them? For what exactly?” Robert asked back. “There’s nothing that’s not true in there. I really have gained about 50lbs since last year,” he pointed at the text on screen.

Guy sat back, staring at Robert’s chubby butt as the boy continued to lean down at his computer right in front of him. Having initiated a ‘hands-off’ policy at work, Guy was finding it hard to resist touching that big, bloated butt that had been captured so magnificently in the pictures. Robert was smelling great and his fresh love handles seemed to be pushing out even more than Guy had seen them before. He was turned on. For the first time in his life, he felt aroused in a way that he was unable to put into words. Despite his outrage at seeing the cruel article on Robert, he couldn’t deny the fact that it had turned him on. It was a feeling he disliked in himself and he had wanted to push it away. Sure, he had dated guys in the past who would have enjoyed the very much public disapproval of their weight gain, but how was he to know that Robert would appreciate any of that? Had dating those gainers warped Guy’s brain into finding all that public humiliation irresistibly arousing?

“At least the firm got a mention,” Robert smiled, stepping away from the screen at last. Was that a bulge he was trying to conceal? “You know what they say: all publicity is good publicity!”

Guy stood up and placed his hands on Robert’s rounder butt, pulling him into him. Fuck the self-imposed rules about not kissing in work; he was horny and so was his cute little chub. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Guy whispered seductively, safe in the knowledge that the blinds were closed.

“Even though the whole of London is laughing at me?” Robert teased back.

“Fuck everyone else!” Guy shot back. “You know I’d never ask you to diet,” he whispered alongside another kiss. “In fact, why don’t you let me take you out for dinner tonight; someplace with the lovely, greasy, high-carb junk food you can’t get enough of…”

Robert cooed with interest, allowing Guy to kiss him over and over again. “And I can eat as much as I want?” he asked, continuing the flirtation.

Guy smiled proudly and bounced the doughy glutes he was going to pound later on. “You bet!” he nodded. “You won’t hear any complaints from me!”

Guy wondered how much longer it would be until the all important conversation with Robert would happen. It had been almost five months since they’d hooked up on the business trip and, despite the secrecy around their relationship, neither of them was seeing anyone else. For Guy, it was a huge deal to have committed to sleeping with only one person in that whole time, yet it had all happened quite naturally. Sexually, it seemed that the pair of them were very compatible. Guy would swiftly move from a romantic, nurturing lover, into one with the fitness and stamina to fuck Robert all night long. In return, Robert liked to be seduced and tempted. There was a submissive side to him and he enjoyed being pampered and taken care of. Since getting together, it was obvious that his weight gain was speeding up and he’d pushed out quite the beginner-belly in that time. It was sitting, round and tempting in his shirts, making Guy appreciate how lucky he was that Robert felt so comfortable with him to just…let his appetite go like he had. The extra pounds felt like their own, quiet love language, despite the fact that it was clearly symptomatic of something much more erotic.

“Quit staring!” Guy laughed as a fat guy waddled into the restaurant behind his similarly obese wife. In the past, he’d found it embarrassing how much Robert would ogle; his fascination towards those extreme bodies getting the better of him.

“Sorry!” Robert replied, trying to refocus on his menu. Freshly shaven, his new double chin always looked so adorable when his head was in that position. Only a few minutes earlier, they’d bumped into a few friends of Robert’s ex; all of them staring disapprovingly at the little pot belly that was starting to make itself very well known.

Guy reached his giant hand under the table and stroked Robert’s knee, not quite knowing what was going through his head. “Order as much food as you like, okay?” he smiled sweetly.

Robert nodded and didn’t disappoint.

“You’re doing it again,” Guy laughed later on, as the pair of them were sitting in a bar near Soho, enjoying the buzz of the evening. “I’ll have to take you home to the US sometime. We have some of the fattest guys around, especially where I’m from, in West Virginia.”

Robert shook his head as if he was trying to restart his brain, apologising once more. “I don’t know why I do it,” he sighed. “I just…” he began, before sighing with frustration at being unable to put it into words.

“You just need to know what it feels like,” Guy finished for him.

Robert turned his head to look at Guy properly. “Yeah, that’s exactly it,” he nodded, seemingly delighted that his lover knew him so well.

Guy slipped his hand onto Robert’s little pot belly, rubbing it back and forth. “I saw the little boner you got, reading that mean article about yourself,” he teased.

Robert looked around, checking that no one else could see them. He smiled, turning back to Guy and allowing himself to be seduced; Guy’s lips getting aching close to his own. “Oh, yeah?” he whispered excitedly back.

“I’ve known for a long time,” Guy smiled, slipping his fingers under the slight overhang of belly fat and jiggling. “You want to be a real fat boy, don’t you?” His voice was almost cracking with arousal. He loved kinks in all their different forms, having experienced so many with the great variety of sexual partners he had had over the years. But this weight gain kink seemed like so much more; the physical transformation, the contrast; the confidence, combined with humiliation and submission. It ticked so many boxes for him. Best of all, Guy had had the time of his life these last few months, trying to gently tease it out of Robert. “It’s the reason why I’m taking you for more food after we leave here,” he smiled. “I know that you need to experience what it’s like to carry a much larger gut than this.”

Like putty in Guy’s hand, Robert kissed him. “I can’t believe you’re willing to put up with this,” he chuckled, lifting his arms higher so that Guy could jiggle his stomach even more. “Most people would just think I’m a freak!”

Guy smiled back. “Maybe I’m enjoying it,” he teased, grabbing a full wedge of Robert’s belly fat and just holding it still for them both to see. “Maybe I’m a freak too...”

Robert grinned with lust. “I ate so much before at the restaurant!”

“You did,” Guy smiled. He’d never particularly enjoyed waiting around as his lovers overate to satisfy these types of kinks. However, he at least understood how it all tied in with the erotic process of gaining weight; the greed, the gluttony, the deliberate bloating with calories. “...And you’re going to eat even more shortly,” he whispered back.

Robert raised his eyebrows. Was Guy really serious about that?

“You’re a gainer,” he stated frankly to Robert. “You do realise that, yeah?”

Robert looked around once more, checking that they were still unobserved. Somehow, putting a label on all this had suddenly solidified everything in both their minds.

“I’ve seen all this before. You need to keep pushing; keep overeating, again and again. Otherwise your weight will plateau and your belly will stop expanding.” He looked at his lover seriously. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

The chubby boy stared back with absolute lust. He shook his head, picked up his beer and drained the remainder of his pint. “Come on then!” he grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

The prospect of moving in with a lover was something Guy had never believed was right for him. Yet, there he was, unloading all his things into Robert’s city apartment, whilst the rest of his stuff had gone into long-term storage. It had been quite the gamble, releasing the equity in his home to further invest in the start-up AI company he had sunk a vast amount of cash into three years earlier. However, it was now or never if they were to corner the market like they needed to. Robert had agreed and been the one to suggest the cohabiting solution; his business advice being the one Guy trusted more than any other, having worked so closely for months now. As a couple, they worked well. They understood the joy they both got from their work and shared a similar mindset when it came to almost all other things. Stil, moving it had made Guy nervous, and it had taken him longer than his rational business brain normally operated in order to make a decisiona bout it. However, in return, Guy now had a majority 62% share in his own company, and had found that he could live more than happily alongside his doughy lover in North London.

With Guy around, Robert had seemed to double down on his weight goals and recommit in a way he had never allowed himself to before. Just like Guy was pouring protein shakes into himself after the gym, Robert was doing much the same with his own fattening concoctions; his kinks developing in all new ways. Within a couple of days, they had fucked in every room; Guy being unable to resist the fresh, plump broadness of Robert’s once toned and slender butt cheeks.

Now that Robert could be so open about his desires to gain weight, he actively enjoyed listening to Guy’s past experiences. Unlike most people, who didn’t want to hear about their partners’ previous lovers, Robert wanted to hear tales of Mikey and Dillon over and over again, and how Guy had sat back, excitedly watching them growing fatter and fatter.

“I don’t know what my parents are going to think about us being together,” Robert fretted, knowing that his family were soon returning for the holidays from their villa in Italy.

“Why?” Guy asked. “Because I’m the first man you’ve dated?”

“No,” Robert smirked cheekily back. “Because you’re an American!” he teased.

The pair laughed and Guy launched into tickling him for his playful rudeness. “Seriously, though. Your dad loves me. Before he stepped back from the business, we used to get on great.”

Robert nodded, but there was a worry in his eyes that didn’t abate as the big day arrived. Guy should have been aware that something was wrong the moment Robert slipped on the giant sweater that morning; the one with the huge roll-up neck. Black and loose fitting, it was clear that the man was trying to conceal the extent to which he had fattened up in the last twelve months. But in so doing, what he actually became was a dark, thick, shapeless block, with chubby thighs that strained against the smart pants he wore below.

Guy had had relatively little to do with Robert’s family since they had started dating. The pair had both had the sense that their relationship wasn’t being taken all that seriously. Robert had not long turned twenty-four and his dad had openly referred to his son’s romantic attachment as a ‘phase’ that Robert was going through. As such, Guy dressed smartly, cancelled all his plans for Christmas Day, prepared suitably expensive Christmas gifts and drove himself and Robert to the family home in Kent; a lavish country manner, handed down over generations.

Despite everything Guy had anticipated, he hadn’t been the focus of the day whatsoever. Gasps and horrified looks greeted them as Robert strolled in and removed his large winter jacket. The comments hit hard and fast. They were harsh, fatphobic and unjustified, setting Guy at odds with the family each time he called them out, unprepared to let their prejudices slide.

“I thought you guys video called every week?” Guy whispered to Robert the moment they had a second alone.

Robert seemed drained and exhausted from it all. “I may have told them my camera has been broken these last few months,” he replied.

Guy exhaled, now realising the absolute shock everyone must have felt. Despite the relatively good job the sweater was doing at masking a lot of the blubber, since September, Robert’s cheeks had been blowing up in a way that had altered the entire shape of his face. The gains had been further documented in a second critical article about his appearance back in October, however Guy suspected that such garbage hadn’t reached the family, safely tucked away in Italy, upon the shores of Lake Como.

“Mum and Dad are going to remove me from the company,” Robert fretted on the way home. “Especially now you’re leaving.”

“No they’re not!” Guy replied, trying to calm his boyfriend’s melodrama. “Even your dad can’t argue with the share price since you started running things. He’s just pissed and lashing out.”

“Dad doesn’t want ‘a fat guy’ to be in charge,” Robert grumbled next, quoting his father’s words exactly. “I was hoping today would be about them getting to know you properly, but…”

Guy sighed. The day had been disastrous. He could tell that he was going to be at odds with Robert’s family until he agreed to do what they wanted and insist that Robert dieted. They both felt flat for the remainder of the evening, making Guy wish he had cancelled his flight home to see his folks that week.

Upon his return, a very different Robert greeted him. A new personal trainer had been appointed and, together, the pair of them had cleared away anything in the cupboards that she felt was contributing to Robert’s ‘weight problems’.

“You’re not cross, are you?” Robert asked.

“Cross?” Guy echoed. “Why would I be cross?” he chuckled, hugging the man he had fallen so deeply for. “Gaining is your thing, not mine. If you want to quit, I’ll support you however I can.” In truth, he had never expected Robert’s gains to last forever. Sure, the man had caught the gainer bug, but it wasn’t quite as extreme or important to him as it had been for someone like Mikey, in Guy’s past.

Robert hugged him sweetly back, having made up his mind that a new year demanded a fresh start. He began eating better and taking Guy’s advice on nutrition; even joining him for a round or two at the gym. Robert was soon pulling out his older clothes from the back of his closet, replacing the large winter sweaters with more fitted t-shirts in time for the Spring. Yet, two cute and stubborn love handles remained at his sides; a testament to the kinky fun that he had once enjoyed so much.

Guy had never enjoyed work so much since he’d left Robert’s family firm to head up the AI company he had invested so heavily in. Now he was no longer just making money for other people, he could work hard, put the work in, and reap the rewards tenfold. There was so much potential with the technology, and he had been working closely with the British Ministry of Defence to showcase how they could use some of their adapted systems. It was exciting, that buzz of adrenaline from making things work, capitalising on successes and carving out new opportunities for an increasingly valuable and influential company.

Robert was busy with his work too. With his father and Guy out of the way, things actually became easier to manage and there was a clear leadership structure in place.

“Off out for lunch with clients again?” Guy teased him, looking over Robert’s shoulder and seeing the calendar on his cell phone screen. “Careful! You’ll be getting all chunky again!” he joked, sliding his hands over Robert’s chest and down to the small, remaining store of belly fat that refused to budge.

A bulge in Robert’s pants jumped to attention whenever Guy joked about his  yo-yoing weight. Now that Robert had relaxed a little, he’d wanted Guy to start the kinky talk in the bedroom once more, telling him how fat he could be and the things he would do to his body once he was round and blubbery. This was the thing Guy liked best about dating those with kinks; it was just so easy to turn them on and have them pumped up and ready for some sexy action. There were trigger actions and words that could flip any boring situation into something exciting and arousing, all with so little effort. And, once again, Robert was nursing quite the erection.

“For my birthday next week, I want to try pouring double cream down your throat,” Guy whispered to him. “Like we used to in the old days.”

Robert moaned in pleasure at the thought, clearly replaying those kinky memories from the past.

“You’d forget about your diet for one day, wouldn’t you?” Guy asked, sliding his meaty hand over Robert’s crotch.

Robert nodded submissively. The old habits were creeping back in; the longing to feel his body holding more weight again. The instances where he was willing to forgo his strict exercise regime were increasing. Guy knew that it was only a matter of time before the gains began anew. Perhaps it would be a fun life, this continuous cycle of weight gain and loss.

Taking Robert over to visit Guy’s family had been considerably less stressful than the Christmas in Kent. Guy’s mother had long accepted that her handsome son was a law unto himself, living a whirlwind existence that she could hardly comprehend. She liked Robert, thinking him handsome and much like the typical romantic, bumbling Englishmen of the many movies she had watched over the years. Guy’s aunts had agreed, never noticing once how much Robert was overeating the entire trip.

Surrounded by tempting, tasty foods around every corner, as well as fascinating specimens of obesity in Charleston, Guy’s home city, Robert had carried a lust about him the entire week. For Guy, it reminded him why he loved dating gainers so much. As Robert gorged himself on take-out in the hotel room, Guy could hold the man’s impossibly hard shaft, playing with it as gently and delicately as he could, for fear that it could, and would, explode at any second.

“I want to be a fat boy!” a horny Robert would exclaim, right before climaxing, time and time again.

Guy would then chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. “I know you do!” he’d shoot back, his eyes dancing with delight; the greatest of all pleasures seeing his boyfriend overtaken by his own lust. In truth, it would be easy. Robert had already fucked up his metabolism last time. The pounds failed to shift like they should in a normal, athletic, mid-twenties male and they packed back on with shocking speed. But when Guy told him that, there was no stopping the sudden surge from Robert’s groin, and the complete mess that was made all over the bed as jets flew in every direction. A simple week away had spiked Robert’s weight by an incredible fifteen pounds. 

“You look so fucking sexy!” Guy growled, admiring the large butt that had reappeared on his lover, filling his work pants right back up again.

Robert twisted his hips in the mirror to get a good look, smiling proudly. “I wish you were a proper feeder,” he sighed. “I know I would go so much further if I knew you were going to get off on making me gorge myself.”

Guy tried not to show how cut up he felt. He remembered how he had lost previous lovers for the exact same reason. They wanted more from him than he felt capable of giving. Sure, he loved bringing Robert to the absolute heights of lust, but he wasn’t in the habit of devising a food schedule, nor engaging in endless calorie counting; the true nuts and bolts of gaining. Guy considered how best to remedy this. No longer having an office to travel to each morning, he used the time to stock up the cupboards with all the things he knew Robert liked to feast upon when he was horny. And boy, during this most recent gainer phase, those fresh pounds certainly caused Robert to be horny! It was like a self-propelling cycle of lust, overeating and pleasure. In the time since Robert had last gained, Guy had developed a better knowledge of the kinky little pet names his lover enjoyed: Piggy, Fat Boy and Porker. He could throw them in whenever he wanted, and enjoyed messaging Robert at work to ensure he was wound up and horny by the time he got home, ready to eat.

The results were inevitable. Sexy, undiluted fat slid back onto Robert’s body with ease. His butt blew back up even more, but he was undoubtedly carrying more on his belly this time, making even his largest shirts requiring upgrades.

“Are these new trousers?” asked Robert one morning as he trotted about to get ready.

Guy, who had already returned from an hour-long session at the gym, smirked and nodded his head. “With a little extra growing room for my Fat Boy!” he whispered teasingly back. In truth, he knew that the same thing would eventually happen as last time: Robert would get put off and start his diet all over again, making himself miserable in the process. What he needed was a lover who would ease him into the changes smoothly and be there to show him how sexy his swelling body could be; similar to how a true feeder would; the ones who consumed Robert’s fantasies as he watched his body swelling up.

Now that Robert had been at his family’s firm for over two years, he didn’t worry about suddenly being replaced by his disapproving family. They needed him, as well as his sharp business brain, to keep bringing in the flow of wealth. Likewise for Guy, things had continued to go from strength to strength and there had been some decent press coverage of the technology his company was developing. They’d bought premises in North London and were expanding into the north with further development centers. The success was intoxicating, and when Guy felt happy, he certainly became hornier and hornier.

“Head back!” Guy ordered his boyfriend as he held the pot of cream aloft. He smirked, looking at how insanely hard his blubbery boyfriend got whenever Guy treated him to a feeding like this; never failing to explode at the prospect of greater amounts of deliberately fattening calories.

Down they all went, time and time again; the fat building into his waist, puffing up his arms and broadening out the glutes; each pound making Robert hungrier for more. Hitting 270lbs had been a huge thing for him, but Guy wasn’t sure the boy could make it to the full three hundred. Already, he had started to complain about how much he was sweating and a couple of his friends had dropped him from their groups. He now looked so contrasting in appearance to Guy. Whilst this was thrilling and exciting on good days; bad days, he felt self-conscious and low.

Guy had been thinking about it for some time as he set his computer up in his hotel room. Being so far away from Robert for six weeks had been challenging, but the business opportunities in California were unrivalled. Guy could see how much further ahead his own company’s technology was to any other. Of late, all they had to do when encountering issues was to question the technology itself, leading to massive creative growth, developing at a faster pace than any of them had ever anticipated. It was the whole reason why he knew it wouldn’t fail him with Robert that evening. The computer knew the objective: getting Robert as horny as possible by making him eat the most calories that it could.

The deep-fake version of Guy came on the screen. It really was remarkable seeing Guy’s own mannerisms and voice reproduced so flawlessly. “Are you ready to eat for me, Fat Boy?” it asked.

Immediately, Guy could see the naive Robert responding. He began to eat to the gentle teasing of the software. As Robert replied to it, the computer seemed to learn more and more about him, soon branching off-script and generating its own responses that it knew its target would better appreciate. In a matter of minutes, it was speaking to Robert as if it had an even more in-depth knowledge of the man’s kinks than Guy had acquired in the last three years. And just look at Robert go! He was gorging himself like an absolute pig, rubbing his fattening belly and jiggling it in a way that Guy had never witnessed him doing before. He didn’t need to track the calories that Robert was eating, the computer was scoring it all at the bottom of his screen; the number steadily increasing towards the target. “Come on, Fatso!” the software teased, prompting whenever required. “Get it all down for me!”

By the time Guy got home, he knew that Robert’s pants were going to be completely busted. There was no way the man could cope with encouragement like this every evening and not pack on a staggering amount of fat. How exciting it would be, knowing that his lover was about to be a lot softer the next time he touched him…

Looking at the data from these sessions, Guy picked up a lot of tips by the time he made it home. He reconfigured the software, generating full reports and connected up the bathroom scales into the system so that he could gather even more information. It was clear that the trial was making a huge impact, especially when it started messaging Robert at work, reminding him of the importance to eat; using the trigger words it knew to be the most effective. When Robert’s watch would feed into the system that he was feeling stressed or low, the software would generate further kinky messages and even purchase food to be delivered that it knew would spike Robert’s dopamine. But in the monitoring of what Robert ate, the computer soon learned which foods promoted Robert’s weight gain the most. Unlike many fatties, heavy carbs, like pasta, failed to have the impact that meats and cheeses appeared to generate. 

With such immediate effects, Robert had rapidly surpassed his previous high weight, entering into all new, blubbery territory. For Guy, it was incomprehensibly erotic to be able to touch or grab any part of his lover’s body and have the man turned on to such a wild extent. Using buzz words or phrases from the software reports made Robert instantly hard. Wafting a sugary treat under his nose, or commenting on the disastrous fit of the man’s clothes created a sexual arousal like nothing Guy had seen before. It was as if Robert’s entire sex drive had been trained to activate upon even the gentlest jiggle of his fleshier body. In Robert’s own words, the system had been ‘the best gift’ he had ever received. Even as he surpassed 300lbs, all thoughts of dieting appeared to be completely off the table.

“That’s Rachel Rivero,” Robert pointed out a few weeks later as he and Guy attended a charity event in The City.

“So, that’s her!” Guy smirked, gazing upon the journalist who had written all the critical articles about Robert’s weight gain. The most recent piece, only last week, had been the most savage of all as she even chased up quotes from members of Robert’s family to comment on how significantly obese he had become. “She’s hardly slim herself!” Guy grunted disapprovingly at the middle aged woman sipping champagne by the large ice sculpture.

Guy bided his time, leaving Robert with some mutual friends before he slipped back to find the journalist in question. He had the instinct to try and protect his lover, wanting nothing more than this fatphobic, judgemental woman to simply back off from picking on Robert.

“My name is…” Guy began, holding out his hand the moment there was an opening to introduce himself to her.

“I know who you are,” the lady sighed back, as if she already knew everything Guy was going to say. “The answer is ‘no’. I get good numbers on my articles about your little boyfriend.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Although, maybe the real story is why such a handsome man as yourself would even go after someone who struggles so much with his weight?” She eyed his powerful body up and down. “You are quite the specimen!” she smirked, as if smelling a potential story.

“Or, maybe the headline should be about you,” Guy stated, smiling confidently. “Picking on Robert by writing mean articles about him, simply because you'd ended your secret, extra-marital affair with his father… it doesn’t exactly smack of professional integrity, does it?”

Rachel stiffened, sensing a challenger. “Darling, no one’s going to believe that!” she smirked, starting to walk away.

“They will with all the evidence I have saved on here,” Guy returned with an equally condescending smile as he lifted his cell phone. “Pictures, documents, receipts, CCTV footage,” he nodded. “It’s amazing the things you can dig up when you set your mind to it…”

The woman glared, understanding that this was no bluff. Ten minutes was all it had taken for Guy to access the software to complete a deep dive into everything about this woman. What would have taken a personal investigator five years to amass had been automatically downloaded onto Guy’s cell phone, all whilst having a glass of mineral water at the bar.

“You don’t want to start something with me,” Rachel warned, retreating nonetheless.

“I’m sure I won’t need to,” Guy threw back, smiling victoriously. “Just leave Robert alone!”

Pleased with himself, Guy walked back over to Robert, gazing upon that thick, chubby ass with pride. Ever since he’d introduced the virtual feeder tool, Robert had been piling on the blubber like never before; those soft, squishy glutes showcasing every last calorie that had been desperately consumed. Robert never would have worn pants so snug to come to an event like this before; having also chosen a shirt that stretched so unflattering across his love handles. To Guy, it seemed so thrilling; like Robert’s kinkiness was being harvested and controlled; he desired food and sex in equal measures and had become more submissive to his lust for Guy than ever before. When he held the fat boy's little dick in his hand, it was so devastatingly hard, and always pathetically easy to bring keep it teetering on the very edge of an extreme orgasm.

Guy snuck up behind him and rested his strong arm over his lover’s shoulders, turning and seeing Rachel eyeing him coldy from afar. She really had been a hateful presence these last couple of years. Although the AI software had recently seemed to find a way to make Robert enjoy the humiliating content and pictures in those articles, letting her know that she couldn’t push them around had still felt every bit as satisfying as Guy had hoped. Now they could at last live their lives in peace.

“Oh my goodness!” Guy exclaimed four weeks later, seeing the article the moment he woke up, having had it sent to him by three different people in his circle. He could feel the dread consuming him as each paragraph made for more and more damning reading. Not only was this new article providing the most extreme pictures of Robert’s over 360lb body to date, but that disgusting journalist had clearly set out to ruin Guy himself. There he was, being outed as: ‘The world’s most prolific feeder.’

For the first time in years, Guy’s first love, Mikey, was staring up from the screen at him; comparison pictures of them both from when they’d started college, alongside a recent picture of Mikey with an additional four hundred pounds filling up his body. There were quotes from people Guy had known in college, twisted to back-up the case that Guy had fed and ‘destroyed’ a promising young academic with his devious kink.   

Quite a few paragraphs were devoted to Dillon too. That bastard had even provided Rachel with quotes, speaking openly about how much Guy had enjoyed his greedy appetite and lust for his expanding body. “Without him, I never would have ended up at 500lbs,” he’d stated, right before the article went on to detail, in quite devastating detail, the timeline of Robert’s own transformation; gaining weight pretty much as soon as he had met Guy and started dating him.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Guy’s reputation was in tatters. The comments section alone was enough to show just how cleverly Rachel Riverto had twisted all those little facts to make him seem like the most evil being to have ever walked the Earth. The timing couldn’t have been more disastrous. It had been a sting operation, ensuring that the Ministry of Defence would pull out of the major deal they were about to sign with Guy’s company that very afternoon, destroying years of work that had led up to this moment. Guy felt sick to his stomach. In his whole career, he’d never experienced such a personal, calculated attack.

It was ironic; in all those years, Guy had never considered himself a feeder. He’d simply enjoyed sharing in these guys’ kinks and admired their confidence as their bodies expanded in ways that most of society disapproved of. There was no crime in that; was there?

Having built up more and more shares over the years, Guy was able to refuse the wishes of those in his company who wished for him to step down; though he had to fight hard and argue well for that privilege. With every setback came a further opportunity, Guy had decided, looking at his enormous, lardy boyfriend getting hard by reading all the comments on the new pictures of his 360lb body. With the complete shit storm that had consumed Guy’s life, it was cute how Robert seemed to care so little, and how incredibly hot he appeared to find it all instead. The Robert of old would have run a mile the second a scandal like this broke out. Now, it was all part of the erotic play that was his life.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Robert asked, feasting upon a large pizza and stroking his giant, fat-filled stomach in front of the TV, much like he did every evening.

Guy smiled, feeling, in a strange sense, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was no way he could have watched Robert grow like he had in the last six months and not realise that there was a serious business opportunity in all this. However, he never would have had the confidence to go for it had his name not been dragged through the mud like it had been that week. He rubbed his finger proudly across his lover’s enormous double chin. The AI had prompted Robert to keep it well shaved and it really had helped to make him look more obese than ever before.

“I may not be a feeder,” Guy began. “But I’ve somehow created the most effective motivation tool in the world,” he smiled. “And I imagine that’s not the only thing this technology could do,” he nodded, enthused by the untapped potential of what he had developed. “I believe that there are billions of people with other fun, playful kinks; just like this, too embarrassed to share it with another human being.”

Robert pulled a sceptical face, like he hadn’t even realised how much his own behaviours and physical appearance had been transformed by the technology that had been brought into his life by Guy.

Guy grabbed a giant wedge of Robert’s belly fat as he continued to make his point. “The technology was already good, but you realise you’ve packed on almost 40lbs since we introduced your brain scan data into the system six weeks ago? You wake up in the night to eat ice cream, you can’t seem to get off unless you’re stuffed! You’ve turned into this great big, fat ball of kink!” he nodded proudly. “If I market this slowly, collect more neural data…” he explained, more to himself than anyone else. “I could get better at mapping these kinks; all the different fetishes out there! Then I could provide people with the most erotic experiences of their lives; unlock desires they never even knew they had!”

“It’s still only a face on a screen,” Robert replied, seeming to cautiously accept some potential in what Guy was saying.

“Then we take it off the screen!” Guy smiled. “We put it in ear-pieces for bored husbands and wives, wanting to spice up their love lives. We use it to create bespoke AI erotic movies for folks to enjoy. We develop androids that can pleasure their targets like nothing else on the planet. By the eightieth generation of this software, the possibilities will be limitless!”

Robert stacked another two slices of pizzas and bit down on them both, nodding. “Alright,” he nodded. “It’s a pretty lucrative idea,” he agreed.

Guy smiled proudly and kissed his fattening lover, admiring the vast contrast between their bodies as they made love later that evening.

“Do you think this is going to happen to more folks then?” Robert asked as he pinched his belly fat. “Your AI systems have learned so much about my fat kinks, it’ll uncover it in more people?”

“Without a doubt!” Guy grinned back, taking hold of Robert’s fat himself and jiggling it joyfully. “Hundred of them. Thousands. Maybe even millions! Delicious, kinky little fuckers, growing their bellies out, just like you!”

“That journalist was right,” Robert smiled, feeling himself starting to climax at the touch. “I really am in way over my head!”

“You think so, Fatty?” Guy asked, having learned from the neural data how much Robert’s arousal spiked at that name.

Robert nodded, his eyes rolling back into his head. “...I really am dating the world’s most prolific feeder.”

Guy smiled, watching as Robert could hold back his orgasm no longer. He was about to bring this pleasure to everyone, across the entire world. Again and Again. After all these years, perhaps he was feeder after all…

[notglue-9]

About My AU

This is about how 8 souls in Minecraft afterlife,try to live in peace and harmony.

Random facts about world/lore:

• You can’t stay at night for long as your own nightmares and fears will begin to haunt you.

• Catnap has had corruption three times. And each time it gets worse and more painful.

• on a full moon in Cartoon world, Catnap will turn into that same creepy version of himself from his past life.

• Bobby: mother/big sister figure

Bubba: Big bro/Father figure

Kickin: best Bro/best friend

Hoppy: best sister/best friend

Crafty: comfort shy bestie

Picky: the same kind aunt who will feed and take care of you/sibling figure

• Catnap lives with Bobby or Bubba.

The guys built houses for each other while they were in the afterlife. And they built a House for Dogday in advance.

• It hurts Catnap to show other emotions with his mouth, so he always smiles. But in the animation "Overnight" he was so upset that he didn't care about the pain and to show his sadness to Dogday he erased his smile

About Medallions

medallions are their souls.

Catnap collects the negative emotions of other critters. This makes his medallion increase. Although he helps others, it’s worse for him if he collects a lot of negativity within himself. He's in pain and reaaally Sick.💀

Each critter has their own cracks in their medallions. They show their emotional state.

Why is Catnap's medallion different?

it’s just that Catnap is punished for what he did in a past life. He pays back by helping and providing therapy to others there will be a rollback from negativity only if someone helps him. But no one will help him yet. The worse the Catnap medallion stage, the more his voice disappears, his beautiful lullaby voice becomes either mute or creepy.

The reason why Catnap is still cursed with this "therapy" ability. He feels guilty for all his mistakes. And it haunts him. His guilt hits harder than other negative emotions of smiling critters.

Sometimes a big red cloud hangs over him in the shape of his past life. And until he forgives himself and does not help others. He will be forever cursed and suffer

Cracked or Cursed Medallions symptoms

When Catnap is too overwhelmed with negativity. He coughs up Red Smoke.

But it doesn’t affect the others in any way. Although other critters are scared by this smoke. Especially Dogday.

Broken medallions.

These are souls that have not found peace, traumatized, broken. They feel bad mentally.

About ARCS.

Arc 0. - Catnap's Therapy. Pilot lmao

Arc 1. - Eclipse, nightmares and dreams,"I'm sorry"

Arc 2.- Corruption,Hey Dogday,,the groundhog Day,comics about other Critters

Arc 3- (Red crescent arc) - Your face,Camping, Theatre, others in future

Arc 4.- After prank, overnight,Moon's everyday Life.

Arc 1- Everyone hates Catnap. They shun him. Beat him,kick him. Bobby was the first to befriend him.

Arc. 2.Catnap helps them cope with their traumas that have begun to appear and interfere with their lives.

Arc 3.They are all more or less well. Some notice Catnap's strange behavior. Dogday has a hard time accepting Catnap. He already wanted to more or less make the relationship better. But the Red Moon appeared.

Their voices ,Their speaking style

Dogday: The deep voice of a veteran who went through a 100-year war. But sometimes it changes to squeaky if it experiences strong emotions. He remained expressive, but his face is always angry as if it would bite you.

Catnap: Actually he was mute. But he was given a voice in the afterlife. He still can't get used to it. His voice is very gentle, cold and pleasant to the ear, like the Cradle. His voice is also designed for singing.

Bobby: Calming tone, tactile when communicating. Sometimes she makes beautiful speeches. And very chatty. Loves to gossip.

Bubba: Monotonous and calculating Voice. He speaks briefly and clearly. And doesn't gesture at all and he is very passive.

Kickin: He deliberately makes his voice tone rougher to seem cool. He comes up with different slangs and often makes funny gestures. But when he's scared, his voice becomes very squeaky and he chirps like a Chicken.

Hoppy: She has a loud and confident voice, like a fitness club trainer. She will never tire of shouting motivational words at you. She often jumps and runs around you. She doesn't sit still while she chats with you.

Crafty: A gentle and sweet voice, like a princess. She is often distracted and has Daydreaming Syndrome.

Loves fairy tales and everything that is not from reality. She can debate her point of view about creativity

Picky: She has a very fun and playful voice. But sometimes you don’t understand whether she’s happy or ready to roast you in a fire.

A truly charming farmer and chef. Loves the Western theme.

About Chronology.

First arc - Catnap enters the afterlife. And everyone will begin to take revenge on him in their own way. Only Bobby will be there for him

Second arc - Catnap helps all of his friends to help recover from their traumas, and slowly wins their trust.

Third arc - Everything will more or less calm down. Only Dogday has the most difficult period of acceptance. There will be a lot of adventure beyond this. And only when Dogday wants to fix everything. The red moon appears on the horizon

(camping, theatre )

fourth arc - is Catnap's self-exile. everyone misses catnap

Arc five- blocked

Arc six- blocked

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {1}

Summary: On the outside it appeared you had the perfect life but Charles didn't know the secrets that had been kept from him. In order for him to succeed deals were made with your family and no price was too much to pay. Warnings: nsfw, swearing, fighting, mentions of character death, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, horrible parents, Arthur Leclerc being the best friend ever WC: 2.5k

One || Two || Three

“What have you got yourself into now?”

There was no simple answer to that question and it was the very reason you had specifically not called the man waiting for an answer in the corridor. You dragged your eyes away from the chipped grey walls of the cell and stopped reading the tagging that littered the bricks - you didn’t really care that P & H were 2getha 4eva - and sat up from the concrete bed you had attempted to sleep on. 

Stretching your tired muscles, you ignored his question and asked one of your own. “What are you doing here, Charles?”

“Arthur called.” Charles grabbed the bars that separated you, his knuckles turning white as he scanned the other vagrants you had been locked in with. “Did you have to get him involved?”

“What makes you think it was my idea?” It was your idea, but it was rude of him to assume so. 

“My brother wouldn’t know how to find an underground fight club, let alone join one.”

“Maybe you don’t know your brother as well as you think.”

“Maybe, but I know you.” He looked at your cheeks that were still shiny from the Vaseline that helped the blows glance off, then he looked at your busted knuckles that not even tape could stop from splitting. “Why?”

You shrugged, but it tweaked your shoulder that had taken quite the punch and you winced at the spike of pain. “For a bit of fun, let off some steam.”

“Yeah, you look like you are really enjoying yourself,” he muttered sarcastically before walking away.

“Wait, Charles, where are you going?”

“Home, it’s late and Arthur is waiting in the car.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You didn’t call me,” he stated coldly. “Bail yourself out this time.”

Your clenched fist hit the metal bar and he briefly paused as the ringing sound followed him down the hall. “Dammit, Charles. Please?”

He continued walking away and you dropped back onto the hard slab of concrete wondering why you bothered. Charles never cared for you and the friendship you had with his younger brother, in fact merely breathing around him seemed to be an offence. It had been that way ever since your family sponsored his career, it was like he resented you for your family’s money. 

“Y/L/N,” a burly bailiff called out, interrupting your ranting inner monologue. “You’ve been posted.” 

A frown pinched your brows together as the door opened and you saw Charles standing in the shadows behind the officer. “Now would be the time for a thank you,” he muttered. 

You were tempted to throw a ‘fuck off’ his way but bit your tongue and accepted the thick hoodie he had draped over his arm. While the sex workers you had shared a cell with wore just as little clothing, yours was for an entirely different reason. The sports bra and bike shorts were perfect for fighting in but left you cold in the early hours of the morning, so you quickly pulled the hoodie over your body. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want your money,” he sighed, rubbing his temple and leaving you with the impression that you were the headache he had.

“That’s not what you said to my father 10 years ago.”

“Is it too late to lock her back up?”

The bailiff looked awkwardly between the two of you and if you were in Monaco the officer would have probably marched you back to the cell, but Charles was in Nice now, he was in your city. 

You quickly signed the release form for your belongings and slipped the family signet ring back onto your finger before turning your phone on. A flood of messages from your father, his assistant and his lawyer, appeared in the flurry of vibrations that made Charles scoff and shake his head. “Worried about his little princess, huh?”

It was your turn to scoff. If only he knew how utterly wrong he was, but you weren’t one to air the dirty laundry of your family - even if it would shut the pretentious twat up for one minute. “Same time next week, boys,” you said with a nod to the officers behind the Perspex wall. 

“You’re seriously messed up,” Charles commented as he followed your quick descent down the front steps and aimed for the dark blue Porsche. 

“Keep sweet talking, you flirt,” you shot back sarcastically. “I thought you had a girlfriend.” 

Arthur had opened his door the moment he spotted you and he knew from the pained look on his brother’s face, and the smile on yours, that the interaction had gone as well as expected. He couldn’t understand why two people he loved dearly had to fight like cats and dogs every time they were in the same room. He had tried to get you to talk to Charles, to tell him the truth about your situation, but it had been hard enough talking to Arthur about it and you trusted him with your life. You weren’t going to go through that again for someone that would be more likely to spit in your face. 

“How’s your nose?” Arthur asked as he gently cupped your face and inspected it.

“Relax, I already reset it.” You took comfort in the warmth of his palms but the fuzzy feeling that came with knowing someone in the world cared about your wellbeing was gone in an instant.

“Daddy can always buy you a new one.”

“Charles!”

“Forget about it, Tur,” you murmured as you stepped back and started to make your way home on foot. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“If you care about him you will leave him alone,” Charles called out as he opened the driver's door. “You’re just going to drag him down with you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Arthur growled at his brother before he started to follow you down the street. “Wait, please.”

“You should listen to your brother,” you said over your shoulder. “I’m a sinking ship.”

Arthur’s footsteps quickened as he jogged to your side and pulled you to a stop. “You’re not a sinking ship, but if you are then I will be your lifeboat.”

“That’s stupid analogy,” you scoffed as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry I got you arrested.”

“I could have run when they raided but what kind of best friend would that make me?”

“One with a clean record,” you pointed out, feeling his chest bounce with a silent laugh.

“It’s overrated. I’m thinking about getting a tattoo now, one to remember my incarceration by. Maybe a tear, just here,” he said as he touched his cheek. “Think it would make me look cool.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Oh yeah, the ladies would love that.”

“Please don’t give my brother any more bad ideas,” Charles muttered as he rolled by slowly in his car with the window down. “Get in, both of you.”

Arthur opened the door and pulled you down with him, tugging you into place on his lap before you could escape. He wasn’t going to let you walk home at 3am, no matter how safe Nice was, but it was annoying that his brother only bought a two seater sports car when he knew that the two of you had been arrested. 

You guided Charles away from the waterfront mansions and into the industrial area that was abandoned at the late hour. Arthur had been to your place plenty of times but it was a first for Charles to see the concrete building with a chipped tile roof at the end of the rundown street.

“What are we doing here?” Charles asked as he parked in front of a rusted metal door.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, kissing Arthur’s cheek before opening the door. 

“What is this place?” Charles asked again as he followed you out, frowning at the key to the door you found under a shattered pot plant.

“I can’t exactly go home like this, can I? Genius.”

Arthur’s door shut as he got out to referee the second round of verbal sparring for the evening.  

“I’m surprised they even let you home after the crap you put them through.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still useful to them so they can’t get rid of me yet. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“It must be so hard living your perfect little life,” Charles drawled sarcastically and Arthur inhaled sharply at the insult.

“You think my life is perfect?” You laughed bitterly and Arthur looked down at his feet. “Do you know why I fight in that shitty underground cage? The only freedom I have is when I get in that ring. It is the only choice I get to make for myself. For five minutes, I am in control of my own life, Charles, I get to fight for myself.”

“In control? You have always done and gotten everything you wanted,” he argued. “You wanted a pony, you got a fucking pony.”

Your vision narrowed as anger exploded in your chest. “There was a price, you fucking idiot! I am paying that price now. You don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life planned out for you, to find out those gifts came with terms and conditions, so do me a favour and shut the fuck up for once in your life please.”

Charles took a step closer but Arthur placed himself between you, his palms pushing his brother back as your breath quickened to uncontrollable pants. “You don’t understand, just let it go.”

“Damn right I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you listen to her bullshit, Tur. Jules couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, and I can’t either.”

The whomping of blood rushing around your head echoed in your ears as time slowed and Arthur’s arm pulled back. You watched him close his fist like you had taught him, keeping his thumb on the outside to avoid breaking it. You watched the veins on his hand grow thicker as he threw the punch at his own brother and the shock barely registered before Charles fell down on his ass.

“Jules couldn’t be in the same room with her because he knew the truth and he felt guilty!” Arthur screamed down at his brother. “You were too young to understand then, but we aren’t kids anymore.”

Charles broke free of his state of shock and scrambled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “What truth? Huh? Is it worth ruining our brotherhood?”

“Jules was engaged.”

“Bullshit.” Charles shook his head violently and you sank to the ground, leaning back against the cold bricks for the second time that night. “He would have told me.”

“Ask Enzo.” Arthur knew Charles would believe him. Lorenzo was Jules’ best friend, it was why Charles met Jules in the first place. Jules already had ties to your family and he used them to broker the deal that funded Charles’ career. 

“Okay, so what if he was engaged?” Charles snapped as his agitation grew. He was suddenly questioning everything he knew about his godfather and it showed on his shaking hands.

“Because he was engaged to me,” you whispered, a shadow falling across your face as Arthur crouched down beside you and wiped away the tears you hadn’t even felt fall. You couldn’t tell if they were tears of anger or sadness, the two seemed to blur when it came to Jules. He was always there, even in your earliest memories. He was like an older brother to you, he even taught you to ride your bike without trainer wheels. He was always there, until he wasn’t. 

Charles was right, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you once the deal was made. You couldn’t blame him for that. 

“No, no fucking way,” Charles laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “Arthur, are you listening to this shit?”

“I’ve seen the contract, Cha.”

“You’ve always been gullible but this is actually stupid. She was 16. Jules wouldn’t have married a girl. He was 25 for fucks sake.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” you admitted quietly. “It was the price for the deal he made, and you are right, Jules was too noble for that. It took a lot of convincing on his part to wait until I turned 21. My father resented that fact, I think he was hoping to sell me off to someone sooner.”

Charles stumbled back to the hood of his car, watching as Arthur took a seat beside you and draped his arm protectively over your shoulders. The brothers stared at each other but you stared at the gravel between your legs while the truth lingered in the air. 

You could feel the pieces connecting in Charles’ head as if they were being screamed aloud and you flinched at the moment they all came together. Arthur’s arm tightened, Charles' throat bobbed and nausea roiled in your stomach.

“It was me,” Charles choked. “Wasn’t it?”

You didn’t bother looking up as you nodded. “My father never cared about your career. He wanted a union with the Bianchi family and he finally got the opportunity when Jules asked to sponsor you.”

“Why the hell would he agree to that?”

“Because he believed in you, obviously, and I like to think that maybe he thought he could get out of the agreement before I turned 21.” You shrugged because you would never know the complete truth now. It made you sick to think that maybe he did find a way out of it, in the worst way possible.

“Your father…”

“Is a real asshole? Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say sick bastard.” 

You chuckled in agreement and tipped your head back. “Perfect life, am I right?”

Charles had the decency to winch at the reminder. “You’re an adult now, why don’t you leave?”

“I wish it were that easy. All my bank accounts are under his control. They didn’t let me go to college. I don’t know anyone that isn’t indebted or loyal to him,” you sighed. “I got this place with my fight winnings. It’s not much but it’s mine, at least until he arranges another marriage for me, then I suppose the poor bastard gets it too.”

“Marry me.”

You barked a laugh and looked at Arthur, his lips still parted like they were shocked the words had passed by. “Now you are being stupid. I love you, Tur, and that is precisely why I wouldn’t wish this shit on you.”

“Then marry me,” Charles offered. “You hate me already, and I owe Jules everything. You can come to Monaco and study, or get a job, or whatever you want to do.”

“No, thank you,” you said as you pulled yourself to your feet and opened the door. “Drive safe.”

“I’m serious,” Charles growled as caught the door before it closed. “I am offering you a lifeline, why won’t you take it?”

“My father taught me many important life lessons but the first one was if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Good night, Charles.”

Part Two

[sanatomis]

⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.” 

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him? 

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand. 

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces. 

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.” 

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind. 

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.” 

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today. 

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school. 

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day. 

“I need you to come to my school next week.” 

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant. 

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either. 

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—” 

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure.  “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.” 

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense. 

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.” 

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly. 

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over. 

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.” 

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either. 

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end. 

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes. 

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him. 

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat. 

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him. 

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it. 

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room. 

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy.  “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?” 

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.” 

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost. 

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.” 

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted. 

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled. 

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.” 

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel. 

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them. 

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew. 

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

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[verstappen-cult]

okay but why do I feel like this is just 100% max? 😭 like he’s so grrrr to everyone else but when y/n is around he’s an actual golden retriever puppy even if he tries to hide it

AAA I LOVE YOU FOR SENDING ME THIS! i was actually thinking about this last night, because it has max’s name written all over it and i can picture it like—

Max is known to be a very blunt person, someone who can get frustrated pretty easily, everyone knows that. I mean, he has a reputation. But once you came into his life, a new version of Max appeared. 

He just can’t say no to you. You literally are his weakness, with your big, round eyes and pretty smile always making him feel butterflies in his belly, like a teenager with sweaty hands and an embarrassing crush. Max has even found himself stuttering more than one time. 

When you’re not around, he’s like a lost puppy. But when you are, and you look at him, is like the sky opens up making everything be just right. It’s so fucking corny and he would never, in a million years, admit something like that out loud. 

Just like right now. 

Max is angry and frustrated, deep in an argument with GP — gesturing with his hands as if his life depends on it — when you approach him. 

“Hey,” You say, unaware of what’s happening between them. 

“Hey, baby.” Max turns around, a smile plastered on his pretty face. 

GP sees Max’s face light up at seeing you. 

He turns into a completely different person from one second to the other. It’s laughable, really. 

“You know who I just saw?!” You’re almost hopping on one leg of how happy you are. He smiles, because he loves to see you happy. “Taylor Swift! Max, the Taylor Swift is here, she’s actually in Ferrari’s hospitality.”

“Did you talk to her?” Max asks you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him because why are you so far away? He needs to be touching you at all times. 

“Well, no. I wanted to but I don’t want to make a fool of myself, so, I need you to come with me.” You say, very serious. 

“Baby, I won’t go to Ferrari's hospitality. They will probably think I’m trying to steal something.” Max laughs, looking at GP very briefly only to see him holding his laughter as much as he can. 

“But, Max!” You pout, already putting your signature ‘look at this face, you can’t say no to this face’ face.

“Max, we need to finish with these papers.” His friend reminds him, but Max couldn’t care less at this moment.

“Yeah, well, just give me a couple of minutes. I’ll find you later.”

Max really, really needs to finish his talk with GP, it’s important because tomorrow’s the race and there are so many things wrong with the car, but he lets you drag him away. GP’s laugh can be heard around the paddock, people actually turn around to see what’s happening. Max just gives him the finger and follows you to Ferrari’s hospitality to meet Taylor Swift, shooting death glares at anyone who dares to look at him.

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 9! I had to force myself to stop editing this one, probably because this is my first Alastor fic. I hope you enjoy.

Tags/Warnings: Ace Alastor, non-sex repulsed Alastor, jealousy, fingering, p in v sex, biting, blood consumption, marking, kind of a/b/o?, reader is a deer demon, creampie, fem!reader. Word Count: 2,925

There was something about you that drew Alastor’s attention. He couldn’t care less about the sinner’s in the hotel. Only playing the part of a gracious hotelier for his own entertainment. But you. You were an intriguing sinner that drew his attention, much to his own disgust. Perhaps it was because you were also a deer demon? Whatever the reason, he disliked it.

He went back and forth on finding your presence so very grating, and craving it all the same. When he had expressed his utter annoyance to Rosie she only laughed and told him he was catching feelings. He had laughed. Him? Catching feelings? Absolutely unheard of. And Rosie herself even had the gall to sound shocked! So Alastor decided the next best course of action was to simply ignore you.

It worked. For a while, that was. Until he noticed how dejected you appeared as he sought to actively avoid you. It was almost like you…enjoyed his presence. He found himself going back to tolerating being in the same room as you, but never speaking to you. He ignored you blatantly, ignoring how the sight of your face falling pulled at his heartstrings. His smile always strained at how crestfallen you’d look. And finally, much to his relief and chagrin, you started avoiding him.

You no longer sought him out, if he was already in the room, you’d simply look away. You didn’t go to him for simple things, the trivial things that you had once sought him out for. To tell him of something funny or to ask about his day. He didn’t miss it…that’s what he told himself. He didn’t mind you turning from him, sadness shining in your eyes. He didn’t mind it when Husker or Angel Dust made you laugh and banished the sadness from your eyes. And it certainly did not bother him when Lucifer noticed your crestfallen mood one day, procuring a rubber duck for you. Alastor certainly did not dislike the smile on your face at the sight. He just disliked that it was the King of Hell who had made you smile like that.

Today was unlike any other, he was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of neat whiskey. You return to the hotel and head towards the bar, your eyes rolling over Alastor briefly before turning your attention fully to Husk, not even sparing the Radio Demon a simple ‘Hello.’ The radio static picks up around Alastor, almost biting into your skin. Alastor’s smile strains, his eye twitching in pure annoyance at your dismissive nature. He ignored that he had been doing the same to you just a week ago. His hand flexed, his fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey.

“Hello, Husk!” You greet brightly, flashing the ex-overlord a dazzling smile.

“Hi.” The cat-sinner greets, sounding slightly grumpy, “What can I make you today?”

You hum, tilting your head slightly, the action mirroring Alastor’s own habit. “I’ll take anything you make me, Husk!”

The bartender smiled slightly, shrugging. “Well then I better not hear any complaints.”

“No complaints.” You smile, sitting one bar stool away from Alastor. “I promise.”

Alastor sipped on his whisky, his eyes never leaving you as you interact with Husk, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment Husk sets a drink in front of you earning a smile and a flick of your ear.

“Thank you, Husker.” You say, bringing the drink up to your lips.

You make a face at the taste, but don’t say anything, choosing instead to sip at the drink.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it, you know.” Husk said, chuckling at your look of disgust.

You shake your head, “You said no complaints. I’m not complaining.”

You took another sip of the horrible liquid, an involuntary shiver running through your body. Alastor watches you, watching your reaction, how you respond to Husk. He notes how your eyes shine, how you so willingly interact with Husk while ignoring him. You went as far as to sit an entire bar stool away from him. He felt weirdly jealous, though he'd never admit to that aloud. His eye twitch returned, the sound of static rising dangerously around him. And you roll your eyes at him!

A cold feeling of anger runs through Alastor as he stands up suddenly. His sudden movement draws your attention away from Husk, your eyes meeting red.

He speaks your name, his voice cold and demanding. “A word?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and catching Husk’s gaze. There was a warning there, silently urging you not to trust Alastor. You slam down the rest of your drink, cracking your neck slightly. As though you needed the liquid courage to deal with him. The thought annoyed Alastor. You take a deep breath, before turning to face the Overlord.

“Certainly.” You flash him a smile, one that he knows is fake.

It irks him to no end. But the fact that you’ve even agreed to step aside with him is a miracle in itself, especially after the way he’s been treating you. He leads you just out of Husk’s sight. Where you raise an unimpressed eyebrow and cross your arms against your chest.

“What is it, Alastor? Are you finally going to tell me what I’ve done to earn your ire?” You challenge, your eyes never leaving his.

“Earn my ire?” He echos. “My dear, you’re mistaken. You’ve done nothing of the sort!”

His voice is bright and chipper, like it always is. Your brows furrowed before you could stop them. Confusion and hurt flashing through you. You liked Alastor, you did, or… had. You felt safe near him for whatever reason, his presence was calming to a weird degree. You had, at one point, found yourself drawn to the enigmatic Overlord, wanting to know about him. But his actions, his means to ignore you, had told you loud and clear that your presence wasn’t welcome. You were obviously nothing more than an annoyance. Why else would he go through such lengths to avoid you or just blatantly ignore you? It had to have been because he didn’t like you, what other reason could there have been?

“Then why?” You ask softly, your voice full of genuine hurt.

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. “Nevermind, you won’t tell me anyway.”

Alastor found himself stepping forward, reaching out to grip your wrist. He didn't like that you turned away from him, that you were intent on walking away. The both of you melted away into shadows, reappearing a moment later in his room. You gasped at the sensation, swaying slightly.

“What the fuck!?” You gasp, turning to look at Alastor, demanding an explanation.

“Such nasty words.” He chides, “I believe, my dear, you owe me an explanation.”

“What?” You whisper, your head tilting in confusion. “About what?”

“About why you’ve been so keen on ignoring me.” He takes a step forward. “Why do you insist on giving them more attention?”

Your brows furrow again, a frown taking over your face. “You were the one ignoring me, asshole!” You snap, “Fucks sake, Alastor, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. Alastor’s eyes narrow, closing the distance between the two of you. He grabs your hand, yanking you against his body. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you close to him.

“Now, now, my dear. I cannot be jealous of what belongs to me.”

You laughed in his face again, slightly in disbelief, but mostly in frustration. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely serious.” He replies simply, “And perhaps it’s time I lay that stake. Make it clear just who owns you.”

His words make you shiver, your heart beating a little faster. But that doesn't stop your utter bafflement.

“You don't own me.” You roll your eyes, trying to push away from him. “And there's no way in the seven circles that I will ever give you my soul. So fuck you.”

His smile strained yet again, his eyes narrowing, betraying his discontent. “Come again?”

You understand that he's daring you to challenge him again, prompting you to step out of line.

“Two weeks!” You hiss, “First you avoided me, disappearing from every room I stepped in. Then you just blatantly ignored me. Do you understand how much that hurts? And if… if I haven't done something to earn your ire then you must just simply hate me. Regardless, I'm not going to give you my soul. Why should I? When you treat me like this?”

If his smile could fall, it would have. Instead his expression softened, a sadness entering his eyes. Something that had your heart stuttering within your chest, squeezing with unease.

“You think I hate you?” He asks softly.

“Yes!” You huff in slight aggravation, trying your best to ignore how he’d looked almost crestfallen. “Why else are you avoiding me? Ignoring me? Treating me like I’m nothing?”

“It was never my intention to hurt you, my dear-”

“Yeah?” You scoff. “Well, you did!”

“May I finish?” he asks, radio filter falling away from his voice as he pulls you closer.

You clench your teeth but nod, permitting him to finish whatever he had to say to you.

When he speaks the filter is back, “It was never my intent to make you think that I hate you, or that I was upset at you. Whatever may I do to make it up to you?” 

 You take a deep breath before deciding, “Stop ignoring me for one.”

“Am I ignoring you right now, little one?” He asked, leaning forward, his breath fanning against your neck.

You swallow, unable to stop the whimper from spilling from you at his closeness. There was no stopping how your body responded to him, though you wished it wouldn’t.

“N-No.” You begrudgingly admitted, “But you have been… and that’s hurt, Al.”

His lips brush against your neck, your eyes closing at the sensation.

“My deepest apologies, my dear. As I mentioned, it wasn't my intention. Perhaps I can make it up to you right now?” He offers, his bottom lip trailing across the skin of your neck.

His touch ignited a path of fire that burned hot at the slight contact. “H-How?” You ask, slightly breathless. 

How had he managed to turn the tables on you so fast? You were supposed to be upset at him! And you were, for the most part. But you were also aware that Alastor held you in his arms, his body pressed against yours. His soft cologne surrounded you, drew you in, made you feel calm.

“First…I think I should make my claim.” His teeth grazed against your shoulder, sending a thrill through you. “Then perhaps I can ask for your forgiveness?”

He was a charming bastard, you’d give him that. “And if I say no?”

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly deep and baritone, sending a thrill straight to your core. “Oh, my dear, I don’t believe you’ll be saying no when I’m done with you.”

His lips pressed against your neck in an almost tender kiss. “Don’t you like the idea of being mine?”

You did indeed like the idea of being his, your body did too. Arousal swirled in your core. But you were still hurt, still confused as to why he'd been acting the way he had.

Your voice wavered, “f-fuck. That’s not fair.”

He chuckled, the sound sending more heat pooling between your legs against your will.

You swallowed, looking away from him, “at least tell me why you've been acting like you have.”

Alastor tilts your chin up, drawing your gaze back to him. “I'm afraid, my dear, you've caught my attention. Earned my affection.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes meeting his. His pupils were slightly blown wide with an animalistic edge that made him look feral. And unfortunately for you, he also looked damn sexy.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been acting like you have.” 

Alastor leans forward, his breath fanning over your face. “I was avoiding you because I didn’t want to feel like this. These feelings are… confusing.”

Your eyes flutter open again at the rawness to his tone. He sounded genuine. “And now?”

“Now…I think it’s best I don’t ignore these feelings.” His lips brushed lightly against yours.

Your heart skips a beat, a small whimper falling from your lips. “And?”

He smirks, his face dipping beneath your chin, his nose grazing along your neck. “I’m going to make you mine. What do you say?”

“O-Okay.” You whisper, your desire winning out over the bells and whistles going off in your head. “Make me yours.”

His grin spread wider, the word “Lovely” spilling from his lips with such a low growl, it nearly shook you to the core. Alastor presses a soft kiss to your neck, before sinking his teeth in without warning. You yelp in pain, your eyes widening as he sucks. His tongue laps up your blood, soothing the sharp sting into a throbbing ache.

“Come tomorrow, everyone will know who owns you.” He promises, claws effortlessly shredding your shirt.

“Fuck, Alastor!” You whine, not having expected him to do that.

You also didn’t expect him to shred your skirt or your panties. His claws glided through the fabric like butter- shredding them effortlessly. His fingers find your clit, rubbing gently. His touch is in stark contrast to the roughness he had just used to shred your clothes.

Your knees buckled beneath you, your hips rolling against his touch. How long had you dreamed about him touching you like this? How many times had you convinced yourself it would never happen? And now here you were, Alastor slipping two fingers inside you. His lips found yours, your eyes fluttering as he worked your entrance open. Soft moans fell from your mouth, almost timid in nature. He pulls his fingers from your cunt, bringing his slick covered fingers to his mouth. He popped them in, sucking your arousal from his fingers. He hums the sound almost like approval. Your face flushed with heat at the thought of him approving of how you tasted.

Alastor stepped forward, backing you up slowly until the backs of your legs hit his bed, and you crumbled beneath him. He followed you down, his mouth capturing yours in a searing kiss. After a moment he pulls away, his hands reaching for his slacks. You watch in silent fascination as he unbuttons and unzips them, before shoving them down his legs, his boxers following. The sight of his semi-hard cock has you swallowing thickly, your legs pressing together.

“At-ta-ta.” He scolds, forcing his knees in between your legs, spreading them wide. “I want to see you.”

You whine, unable to hide the pure desire running through you. You watch Alastor wrap his hand around his cock, pumping lazily until he’s completely hard.

“I thought you didn’t like sex… or anything.” You murmur, brows furrowed.

“I don’t,” Alastor confirms, shifting forward, running his cock through your slick. “But I will indulge if that means claiming you completely. Marking you as mine.”

“Marking me?” You ask softly, unfamiliar with how your own deer nature worked exactly.

“Indeed!” He replies brightly, thrusting forward, his cock slipping halfway inside you.

You gasp, your eyes widening as he continues to press inside you, never letting up for a single moment. His cock stretches you wide, the sensation burning slightly. There was a mix of pleasure and pain as he entered you, pushing forward until he was completely buried inside you.

“Alastor.” You whisper, breathless, a moan falling from your lips.

“Yes, my dear?” He murmurs, pulling out of you slowly, only to snap his hips back into you sharply.

“Oh fuck!” You moan, back arching against him.

Alastor picks up a steady pace, following your every moan and sigh. “That’s it ma chéri, you take me so well.”

He leans forward, pressing his mouth against your neck again. His pace was increasing, his thrusts hard and frenzied. You were so close, your body quivering with the rising pleasure. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck again. The sensation had you crying out, your walls squeezing his cock tightly. He moved lower, biting again. He sucked at the wound, encouraging you to bleed, before lapping up the blood. The feeling sent you over the edge. You came hard, your walls fluttering almost painfully around Alastor’s cock. He hisses, biting your shoulder as his cock stills inside you. Hot ropes of cum splash into you, your walls squeezing around his cock, milking him for every drop. Alastor collapses against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, his release leaking out of your used cunt.

“Now.” He decides, a smirk on his face, “You’re mine, and everyone will know it.”

You feel slightly dazed, your eyes closing as you catch your breath.

“I’m yours.” You echo, before adding, “But you’re still not getting my soul.”

He laughed, “Trust me my dear, I just want you, not your soul.”

His words make you smile, your body relaxing into his bed. You were faintly aware of Alastor snapping, of suddenly feeling clothed. He drapes a blanket over you a moment later, shifting beside you.

“Sleep well, ma chéri.” He whispers into your ear.

His voice was the last thing you heard as you slipped into unconsciousness.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

DILF!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 🍷

TW: at some point it contains crazy sexual content, so if you're feeling uncomfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort 💓 shout-out to @slutforfinnickodair that helped me, check her blog out! She's amazing (just like my every mutual 😼) obvious age gap (reader is younger), pet names like..you'll see yourself, ALSO BUNNY COSTUME EVERYONE!!

Dilf!Anakin who was very desperate to have you. The first time he had seen you was in the luxury restaurant he and his friends went and he'd be lying if his eyes weren't wandering towards your moving body through the tables. And since that time he decided to make you his

Dilf!Anakin who came to this restaurant way to many times so he could see you

Dilf!Anakin who, when found out where you live, send bouquets of crimson red roses with small notes (after, of course, you had a few interacts with him due to his often appearance at your work place)

Dilf!Anakin who spoils you rotten after you two got together

Dilf!Anakin who obviously doesn't care about the age gap between you two but he sees it in daily life; you using phrases he doesn't heard of or doesn't understand

Dilf!Anakin who is more experienced in finances than you so you use his help a lot

Dilf!Anakin who's extremely protective. Would make sure you're okay wherever you go and that no man dares to touch you or speak to you in a way that makes you uncomfortable

Dilf!Anakin who's a way better cook than you are (at least not in cookies, cakes and things that in general are sweet)

Dilf!Anakin who's the best cuddler; you often fall asleep in his arms/on his lap

Dilf!Anakin who makes you absolutely needy after leaving for business trip;

anakin gasped in surprise, taken back by the intensity of your sudden kiss. He just got home from the three day trip. He knew you've missed him dearly (like always) and he knew he left you in..specific state. But what he didn't know was that you're gonna throw yourself on him the second he opens the doors

your hands pulled on his tie to bring him closer and he had to hold back a groan. A surge of desire ran through him as he returned the kiss with equal fervor, your lips hungrily exploring each other

"wait--" he chuckled, breaking the kiss briefly. he took a step back, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before fully closing the doors. His eyes fell back at your desperate and impatient self, wearing specific (but his favorite) costume. He clenched his jaw at the sight before taking off his outside clothes

"i can't wait more" you whined, desperately reaching for his black tie again

anakin couldn't help but give in to your needy plea, unable to resist you. Just looking at your wide, helpless eyes was enough to make him agree on anything. Especially when you were practically begging for it. You may didn't know this, but the power you held over him was insane. His heart and stomach flipped at the sight of you in your bunny costume once more before he chuckled

"naughty bunny" he murmured teasingly "i haven't even been inside for five minutes, and you're already all over me"

"please" you whined again and pulled on his tie to bring your lips together once more

your desperate whine went straight to his core, making him groan softly. He reluctantly gave in to the growing ache for you "you're gonna ruin my tie, bunny" he murmured against your lips

"you have so many more of them" you retorted

his deep chuckle filled your ears and your cheeks flushed "such a needy, greedy bunny" his lips trailed down your jaw. It did not help with the throbbing feeling that appeared down your body "what should i do with you, hm?"

"touch me..please" you pleaded

leaning down, he brought his lips to your ear and whispered in a low, sensual voice "oh sweetheart..i'll touch you everywhere"

anakin's long fingers worked to untie your bunny costume. But for your liking, he was doing it awfully long "just hurry up" you urged

he grinned with the chuckle following right behind it "patience.." he finally removed the last knot "i like unwrapping my gifts with care.."

Dilf!Anakin who has beautifully hot morning voice;

It was early Saturday morning, six a.m. Anakin was already up and in the kitchen, his curls a tousled mess and he was still dressed in his pajamas. It was awful to wake up at such hour in the weekend but he completely forgot to turn off his everyday alarm. He did try to fall asleep once more, however he couldn't. And it was killing him.

Opening the fridge, he scanned the shelves but found nothing appealing. He moved to the food cabinet, rifling through various boxes and cans, but nothing seemed to catch his eye. Maybe he just didn't have an appetite? Even if, his movements were slow and groggy, the early hour weighing heavily on him. The sudden burst of need for caffeine became, in time, undeniable.

With a sigh of resignation, Anakin decided to go with something he actually had a craving for. He filled the kettle, set it to boil, and prepared the coffee grounds, the familiar routine helping to shake off the last remnants of sleep. The rich aroma began to fill the kitchen, offering the promise of wakefulness and a clearer mind to tackle the search for breakfast.

When he heard the steps against the wooden floor, his head twisted towards the sound. His expression immediately softened at the sight of you; still sleepy and half-awake. He smiled softly, thinking to himself how adorable you looked when you were just waking up. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Anakin greeted you in a raspy, deep voice, his eyes lingering on your beautiful figure.

That voice was one of the many things you were obsessed about. It was undeniably one of the hottest things about him. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. You didn’t say anything back and wrapped your arms around his waist while he grabbed his coffee.

“Feeling needy this morning, hm?” he teased gently as you let yourself nuzzle to his chest. You were tired, you were hungry and such combo only made you clinger than you often are

His lips curled into a small smirk when his free arm wrapped around your waist. His lips (before taking a sip from his mug) pressed a kiss on the top of your head “Such a needy little girl…” he murmured affectionately

"Can I have a sip?" you looked up at him, your chin pressing against his chest.

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, glancing back down at you. “You hate my coffee,” he chuckled, his thumb caressing your waist over your pajamas.

“Yeah, I hate your bitter coffee,” you admitted with a playful smile

His arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. His lips brushed softly against the side of your neck, and his nose nuzzled there, taking in your familiar, comforting scent. It was something he loved inhaling deeply, a scent that seemed to ground him and give him strength to face the day.

“Anything interesting in the fridge?” his breath warm on your skin before he placed a tender kiss there.

And again, this damn voice..

"Maybe scrambled eggs? Or pancakes... Are you hungry?" you cleared your throat to shake away your dirty thoughts. His voice really could do magic on you, like nothing else

He hummed in thought, contemplating your suggestion before placing another kiss. Then another, and another “For you? Always,” he joked, gently spinning you around to face him, to which you gasped at the sudden situation; the fridge's doors closing smoothly behind you

"You know I didn't mean that"

He smirked, a chuckle escaping him, and you could see his adam apple going up and down.

Gods..

Leaning down to your ear, his lips lightly brushed the edge of it “But I did,” he said in a low, deep voice, filled with innuendo.

"ani--" you shivered after his large hands slid under your shirt to grope on your breasts

"shh..relax..let me have my breakfast" he whispered

"you're impossible"

He used the closed fridge doors and pressed you against them to lean back towards your neck

so that's how you're gonna spend your morning

you let out a small moan when his lips touched the sweet spot on your skin and reached with your hands to tangle your fingers in his curls "that's how we're gonna spend our breakfast?"

"absolutely" his voice dripping with mischief "and lunch.." his mouth traveled up to your jaw "..and dinner"

"what about dessert?"

"dessert is definitely included"

Dilf!Anakin who prided himself on making the best hot chocolate; it was a small tradition passed down from his mother who often made him one when he was a kid

Dilf!Anakin who's work ends the second you step into his office

Dilf!Anakin who takes you shopping;

Anakin was sitting on the leather couch in Victoria's Secret's changing room, dressed sharply in his business suit as he waited for you to try on the set of lingerie you had picked out.

Usually, Anakin found these stores mind-numbingly boring, but this time was different. This time, anticipation thrummed through him as he waited for you to step out of the dressing room and show him the lingerie and make the experience far more entertaining.

you pushed the curtain aside, revealing yourself in the tight, black lingerie that hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your cleavage

anakin's eyes moved to your body, to which his breath hitched at the sight. For a moment, he was speechless. Simply swallowing the growing arousal he began feeling "you look...gorgeous" he finally managed to say, though the word felt like a massive understatement in his eyes

your smile widened "yeah? What about the backside?" you turned around so his eyes could catch the sight of your plump bottom perfectly highlighted by the dark material

anakin was rendered speechless again; his eyes roved over your figure once more but for him, it wasn't enough. He wanted to just sit peacefully and watch you even for an entire day and he would never get tired "gorgeous, absolutely beautiful"

he stood up, stepping inside your small changing space. He closed the curtain behind him and moved closer, taking, one more time, the sight of your incredible body in mirror's reflection. His intense gaze made your cheeks flush and you felt his arms wrap around your waist before his chin rested on your shoulder

"how could i resist you like this?" he murmured and began brushing his lips against your shoulder "look at you..such a beautiful girl..do you like it?"

"it's pretty..i like the material"

"it looks amazing on you" he complimented

"yeah?" you grinned

he hummed "it shows your curves so well" his large hands began to move up to your chest, his thumbs caressing the delicate skin of your cleavage that only ignited the fire up to your cheeks

his fingers then moved to the straps of the lingerie, pulling on them back and forth "you want it? i can buy it for you..or do you want something else?" he tried to keep his focus on you and not your body

you turned around to face him "what about this lacy bra?" you suggested with your eyes sparkling with mix of excitement and mischief as your hands rested on his chest

his lips tugged into a smirk and he raised his brow "yeah? you want that?"

"can i?"

"you can have everything you want" he gently squeezed your hips to emphasize his words "you know i can't say no to you, sweetheart"

Dilf!Anakin who often takes a shower with you. When you're too tired to do anything, he helps you clean yourself. Or things just get spicy under the running water

Dilf!Anakin who 'hates' when you tease him during the important calls/meetings (mostly online)

Dilf!Anakin who you tease at the family dinner;

It was Anakin's family dinner, and of course, you were invited. His family was amazing and they loved you as their own. However, the conversations sometimes became a bit dull for you. Remembering the intimate pictures you once had taken, you quietly took out your phone and decided to tease the love of your life.

Anakin was in the middle of an animated discussion when his phone suddenly buzzed. He furrowed his brows slightly as he discreetly reached into his pocket and pulled it out after saying the small 'im sorry'. Unlocking it with his passcode, he glanced at the new message. At first, he thought it was from work, he awaited the message about another contract with big company. However when he saw it was your name at the notification, he was confused. Couldn't you just say it to him right now? But when he saw the provocative picture, his expression shifted instantly to the one of flushed pink

He looked up at you from across the table with his eyes widening with surprise and a spark of excitement. You caught his gaze and tried to hide your mischievous smile with your hand

He was trying so hard not to get distracted, but that picture did something to him. He didn't know if it was the fact that everyone was around and he couldn't do anything or the fact that you had sent him something like that, knowing it would drive him crazy.

He did his best to act normal, keeping the conversation going, but in reality, he was dying to get his hands on you as soon as possible.

Setting his phone back down, he tried to act cool but he couldn't keep his heart from pounding in his chest. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, and he stole glances at you time to time

Achieving your main goal, you sent another picture, this one even more provocative to make him even more desperate to end this dinner

Anakin almost choked on his water as the image appeared on his phone. His breath hitched as he took in the sight. Seeing you sitting so casually across the table, acting as if nothing had happened, was driving him insane.

"Ani, is everything alright?" Shmi, his mother, asked worriedly.

Anakin swallowed the liquid and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself once more "I'm-I'm alright. Just swallowed the wrong way," he said, his voice a bit strained. He discreetly put his phone back into his pocket and shot you a sharp look across the table, almost as if promising retribution.

Anakin tried to focus on the conversation, he really did. But it was impossible with the second picture. His thoughts were consumed by you and the images you had sent, leaving him barely able to pay attention. His expression betrayed his frustration with his mind slowly unraveling.

You were proud of yourself. Making your lovely man in such conflict with himself was more pleasant than you thought it would. So, as your mother kept saying - 'three times a charm' - you snuck in yet another picture, this one much spicier, with your hands squeezing your full breasts and your legs spread

Anakin almost immediately opened the message. His eyes widened, and he almost flinched at the photo. He looked at you again, the fire in his eyes growing darker "I—Excuse me for a second," he said quickly, rising from his seat. His steps were quick as he walked away from the table, heading to the bathroom to cool down.

Everyone watched Anakin leave, and Shmi's face was filled with worry for her son.

"Is he alright?" Shmi asked, concern evident in her voice.

"He must have just needed some air," you replied with a casual smile, masking your smirk with a glass of water.

Anakin walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone again and looked at the latest text he received. He let out a shaky breath, trying to calm down, but the picture made it nearly impossible. His breathing was shallow, and his body was reacting intensely to the image. "You damn little tease," he muttered through his teeth, his hands gripping the sink to control himself.

Shmi turned to you with her concern evident. "Sweetie, maybe you should check if everything's alright. He looked pale."

"Of course," you replied, rising from your seat to head upstairs where Anakin had gone. When you reached the bathroom door, you knocked softly. "Ani, are you alright?" you asked

But before you could finish, he pulled you inside and pinned you to the wall. Anakin quickly closed the door behind you, trapping you between the wall and his tall, broad frame. His eyes were dark with desire and frustration "You," he said, your name leaving his lips like a curse and a plea, "You damn tease."

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled innocently.

"Bullshit. Yes you do."

His face was just inches away from yours and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"You knew damn well what you were doing, didn't you?" he growled, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I--"

"You knew exactly what you were doing" his voice low and heated. His hand slid up from your waist to cup your jaw. His fingers were gentle, yet squeezing your jaw in a little firm way "sending me those pictures while i was sitting at the table, trying to act as if nothing's happening. You saw how frustrated and bothered i was, and yet you loved every second of it, didn't you?" he continued, his blue eyes burning into yours, making you shiver. it was so intense, your knees felt weak

you couldn't help anymore and curled your lips into a smirk "i--well--yes" you admitted almost too proudly

his eyes moved to the exposed skin of your neck and you could see something swich in them. He leaned forward so that his breath touched your face; it looked like he was about to press his lips to yours so you parted them to give him better access, for him to only lean to your neck to brush his lips against your delicate skin

your eyes closed and you casually tilted your head to give him even more access to your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply: it was driving him insane, not being able to take you right there against the wall. However somehow the anticicpation made the experience even more exhilarating. So to pour his need and desire for you, he bit down on your neck lighty, sending the pleasant shiver through your body before speaking:

"you're a little devil in disguise, aren't you, sweetheart?" his voice a mix of frustraition and admiration

you moaned quietly, not wanting anyone to find out about what's happening in the bathroom. But suddenly he pulled away, daring himself to leave you breathless and confused

"wh-where are you going?" you stammered, pushing away from the wall

He chuckled at the whine in your voice, smirking as he walked toward the door. "Back downstairs to the table. The rest of the family will get suspicious if we stay here too long."

"That's mean—and unfair," you protested with disappointment in your tone

He paused with his hand on the door "And you were fair during dinner? Sending me those pictures, teasing me the entire time, and not letting me do anything about it?"

And with that, he left you in the bedroom alone. All needy and desperate for him

in the evening, as you were sitting with anakin's stepdad and stepbrother that had his arm around his wife on the couch, anakin walked into the living room with his hands in his pocket. His eyes lingered on your form before he followed your gaze on tv screen.

just a few hours ago, you had been pinned against the bathroom wall by him, and the memory of both situations (the pictures he replied almost every ten minutes) filled his mind with all sinful thoughts

he walked over to the couch, taking his hands out of his pockets to rest them on the backrest and lean down to whisper in your ear "c'mon, we're going for a ride"

you stirred a little at his words. you were so focused on the movie that you hadn't even noticed him stepping inside the rooom. You turned to face him and raised your brow in confusion

your gaze met and his eyes were completely different from yours; were sharp with a mix of lust. His urge to drag you to the car was growing stronger witch each passing minute "let's go" his head nodded toward the hallway

"Where are you guys going?" Anakin's stepdad chimed in

"For a quick ride, we won't take long," he replied quickly, but the look in his eyes conveyed far more than his words.

"Just be careful, Ani," Shmi added, her voice filled with gentle concern.

"We will," Then he quickly turned his gaze back to you "C'mon, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard, recognizing the look in his eyes, and quickly followed him out of the room. You knew what was about to happen, you knew what he was about to do..

anakin strode out of the door, you following closely behind. Once outside, he grabbed your hand and lead you to the car. You felt his firm yet somehow gentle grib against your skin, as if he was still concerned to hurt you

the cool evening air did little to cool the fire between you, this nervous aura ignited in your stomach and quickly after enveloped your body. You just followed him like a puppy as he swiftly opened the passenger door for you "get in" he instructed with urgency and light sharpness

you immediately slipped into the seat, heart racing, the tension between you almost tangible (which obviously didn't help at all). Anakin then closed the door with a decisive click and hurried around to the driver's side. Sliding in, he started the engine with a quick, practiced motion, the sound coming with a low growl

he barely waited for the gates to fully open before driving out of his family's driveway, to which you exhaled nervously. The normally calm, controlled anakin was now tense. At least that's what you could tell from his clenched jaw and the veins that popped out on his forearms from his tight grip on the steering wheel

feeling the weight of his silence, you couldn't help but ask softly "is everything okay?"

he remained silent for a moment with his gaze unwavering on the road before slowly, his hand left the gear stick to slid it down on your thigh. Your eyes moved down when his fingertips traced lightly along the bare skin. Did it help to ease your nervousness and excitement? Absolutely no, especially when he gave you a firm squeeze

"everything will be soon" his low, deep voice gave you shivers

"where are we going?" you asked with sudden boldness

"you'll see" he replied "dont worry about it"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

he parked the car in a secluded spot, surrounded by nothing but trees visible through the window "get into the backseat" he commanded

the sudden command and his tone only increased the deep blush painting on your cheeks (which thankfully he didn't see due to the late hour)

"c'mon, or i'll just drag you in there myself" he said impatiently, turning to face you more directly

"it was just a-a jo-oke--" you tried to say between moans from his thick member pounding into you from behind "i-i swe-ar!"

"a joke huh?" his tone sounded breathless as his curls were a mess (just like you were), falling on his right eye. He let his large hand run from your spine down to your hip to thrust deeper into you "i don't think it was a joke, sweetheart..i think you just like to tease me, drive me insane"

the car swayed to the sides from your crazy love making and the forest echoed in both of your moans. His lips tugged into a smirk when his hand went down to slap your ass, which gave you the pleasant sting cover your cheek "that's right, baby, you just love to make me all crazy, huh?"

"ye-yeah" you said through half-linged eyes

his proud, smoldering gaze moved to your enticing backside, drinking in the sight of your cheeks jingling with each relentless thrust "you're such a naughty girl, teasing me like that.." his long fingers sink into your flesh, kneading and massaging the plump globes of your ass. The rough, insistent pressure sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your toes curl and your inner walls clench around him

"need to--gonna--co-ome" you whimpered out

he groaned, his hips snapping forward with a particularly deep thrust that made you gasp. His fingers dig into your ass even more from the building feeling down his body "not yet, sweetheart..i'm not done with you yet"

Dilf!Anakin who sometimes teased you about dating older men;

"youre such a pretty girl..so innocent" he murmured directly to your ear while adding second finger inside of you "but i bet you like being handled by a man who's experienced, who knows exactly how to make you feel good, hm?" you whimpered at his words "I guess good girls don't fuck guys my age, right princess?" you mewled in response "atta girl" he grinned "--so you are a bad girl after all..and bad girls need some punishment, don't you think baby? Do you want your punishment?"

Dilf!Anakin who loves watching you ride him

Dilf!Anakin who often plays with your breasts; running his thumb over swollen skin to harden your nipples and intensively memorize how your face twists in pleasure

Dilf!Anakin who always does aftercare after love making; he would not move to do anything without that

I apologize for it being so long 🙈, wanted to include everything I had in mind (which still wasn't everything). Also was too impatient to wait six days to show you guys my latest works (if you don't know what I mean check my earlier post)

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[dalishious]

Teia and Viago Master Post

It seems my overwhelming love for Teia Cantori and Viago de Riva has garnered a reputation that I’m worth asking questions about them. I’m honoured! But I think it would be easier to just make a master post about them that I can direct to, so that’s what this is.

Appearances

Dragon Age: Deception (Teia and Viago appear as unnamed Crows. It is later confirmed in Tevinter Nights that it was them)

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights; “Eight Little Talons”

Dragon Age: The Missing

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Pre-DATV Events

9:44 – Teia and Viago are in Ventus when the Antaam attack.

Between 9:44 and 9:52 – The events of “Eight Little Talons” takes place. (Viago says they were “recently” in Ventus when the Qunari attacked, meaning it’s probably closer to 9:44.)

9:52 – Teia and Viago are in Vyrantium when the Antaam attack. They took a contract together to kill Lady Crysanthus, who was a member of the Venatori. They briefly run into Varric and Harding, who are following Solas’s trail.

Information on Teia

Teia’s full name is Andarateia Cantori. She is the head of House Cantori, which holds the seat of Seventh Talon. House Cantori’s territory is centred in Rialto.

Teia is 28 in “Eight Little Talons”. While we don’t know for sure when the story takes place, it is most likely around 9:45-9:46 based on context clues. If so, this would make Teia in her mid-30s during Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

Teia grew up on the streets of Antiva City with no family, surviving on thievery. She was taken by the Crows at age eight, and considers them her family now. (In “Eight Little Talons,” she reflects that she’s been a Crow for 20 years.)

Teia was the youngest Crow to gain the rank of Talon in history. She is also an outlier in that she does not come from a wealthy, prolific family background. This caused quite a controversy, where she was considered an “overreaching street rat;” while the Crows tell recruits that anyone can become a Talon, it very rarely happens.

Teia has her own set of rules to follow; for example, she refuses to kill servants unless absolutely necessary.

Teia’s best skill is being a master manipulator, with a level of astute observation in others that gives her an advantage in pretty much any conversation. She is very good at figuring out what to say and do in order to get the response she wants from someone.

Teia’s biggest flaw is, in my opinion, her naiveté. You could also say that the fact that she’s held onto strong morals and sensitivity to others is a strength, certainly. But the fact that she wants to see good in everyone, even people who arguably don’t give her any reason to, has gotten her into trouble.

Teia was in an abusive relationship in the past; Dante Balazar, who was Second Talon before his death in “Eight Little Talons”. Dante was addicted to lyrium, and would lash out at her verbally and physically. At some point Teia fought back and finally broke things off, while leaving a scar on his shoulder. Despite all this, Teia held sympathy for him.

Teia is afraid of dogs, after being chased by rabid ones on the streets as a little girl.

Teia has a tattoo marking her as a member of House Cantori on her back.

Teia’s horse is named Andoral (after the archdemon).

Teia has probably not been a Talon for very long; I would guess less than five years as of “Eight Little Talons.”

Information on Viago

Viago is the head of House de Riva, which holds the seat of Fifth Talon. House de Riva’s territory is centred in Salle.

We do not know Viago’s age for certain, but I would guess he’s in his mid-40s during Dragon Age: The Veilguard based on vibes and sensible timelines.

Viago is a master poisoner, and carries around plenty of it wherever he goes… as well as antidotes, because in addition to this, he is extremely paranoid about being poisoned himself. He does not eat or drink anything before testing it first, and he even takes a small dose of Adder’s Kiss every day to build up a resistance to it.

As one of many bastard children of the Antivan King, Viago was only given two choices in life: either live in luxurious exile, or join the Crows. He resents all his half-siblings who chose the first, and he resents the king himself. Viago may be more powerful than them all, even the king, but he is now stuck in this life. Had he not been, he thinks he could be a better ruler of Antiva.

Viago also holds resentment towards his mother, who it is hinted was an alcoholic to cope with the loss of interest from the King. Viago recalls her wine-stained “demon teeth” from when he was a child.

Viago does not give a shit if people like him or not; he only wants to be respected and feared. (Despite this, Teia tries to make the other Talons like him.) He is also used to having to constantly watch his back, and typically thinks the worst in people.

Viago tries to avoid emotional thinking, preferring hard facts and logic.

Viago has a pair of adder snakes he milks for venom. He also now has a third named Emil, choosing to keep the snake that bit and nearly killed him in “Eight Little Talons”.

Viago enjoys art collection.

My guess for how long Viago has been a Talon is somewhere around 10-15 years, based on vibes and timelines. I think he was fairly young himself when he succeeded his predecessor. I also think it’s entirely possible that the Antivan King arranged his rise to power, based on the comment in “Eight Little Talons” from Dante: “Your daddy will protect you.”

Dialogue

(I will add more as I hear it!)

Rook: The Cantori Diamond is your casino? The occupation hasn't closed your business?

Teia: Business may be down, but it isn't "my" casino to close.

Viago: An easy mistake to make. Isn't that right, Andarateia Cantori?

Teia: I am no landlord, and anyone who treats me as such shall be evicted.

-

Rook: Are there many Crows like Jacobus?

Viago: We have many fledglings, but he is something of a prodigy. They tend to do very well, or very badly.

Teia: Not all things end with clarity, as you and I both know.

Viago: Fine. Endings are fuzzy. Starts are shocking. Middles... middles are worth lingering.

-

Teia: Fighting back suits you. Your tone has much improved since we last argued.

Viago: Excuse me. I wasn't aware it was my tone that was at issue.

Teia: That's all right, I'm sure you'll pay closer attention from now on.

Viago: See, this is why we split. And got back together. And split.

-

Teia: Fighting back, making our voices heard... this is feeling like old times. The good ones.

Viago: Thank you for the clarification.

Teia: I meant it.

Viago: So did I.

-

Rook: So you two are both Talons. Doesn't that make you rivals?

Viago: Rank in one area is rarely applicable to others. Which is to say, only a fool would try to impose rank on Teia.

Teia: Wise words from a sometimes fool.

Viago: A history I would wish on no one, lest they take it from me.

-

Teia: Thank you for spurring this rebellion, Rook. It's good to see Viago energized.

Viago: When have I ever been not energized?

Teia: Certain mornings.

Viago: Only after certain evenings.

-

Rook: You two are confident we can take the Butcher when the time's right?

Viago: Ending one life is a punctuation. There is much more to be said first.

Teia: Let's not craft a treatise when a limerick can suffice.

Viago: And that is why your epitaphs are legendary.

-

Viago: Have you been home in the last week?

Teia: I won't let the fledglings see the Diamond empty.

-

Rook: The Cantori Diamond is your casino? The occupation hasn't closed your business?

Teia: Business may be down, but it isn't "my" casino to close.

Viago: An easy mistake to make. Isn't that right, Andarateia Cantori?

Teia: I am no landlord, and anyone who treats me as such shall be evicted.

-

Teia: I told her their bickering was amateurish, and that they'd need to work much harder to argue as well as we do.

Viago: That was altogether the wrong message to take away from that.

Teia: I thought you enjoyed our little squabbles?

Viago: Among—and possibly overshadowed by—other things.

-

Viago: Occupied! The insult of it!

Teia: It's more than insulting.

Viago: It's salt in the wound. And that is my purview.

-

Rook: Were either of you trained by Heir?

Viago: Not this one. Mine was… stern.

Teia: Mine spoke in the third person until you were skilled enough to be recognized as an equal.

Viago: Starting with grammatical murder. Fascinating.

-

Teia: You're tense. Is that a furrow on your troubled brow?

Viago: You like my furrow. Called it the thinking man's dimple.

Teia: Not in public, I don't.

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SOURCES:

Dragon Age: Deception

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

Dragon Age: The Missing

Dialogue between Teia and Viago (DATV)

Letter from Mistress Trella (DATV)