#press a thumb into my mouth to open it so the smoke can really get in

[stunie]

NO BRAKES ! ᯓ⭑ 1.2K wc. ft. dabi x f!reader

summary: oh, so you wanna ask him “is that all you’ve got?” while he’s balls deep inside you and see what happens? here’s a lil hint for you: he’s not gonna be very happy with you.

contains : explicit smut (18+), brat taming, overstimulation, mentions of squirting, pet names, teasing, creampie, cw blood (his staple tore a lil bit), slight cw degradation (calls u dumb, but he also calls u cute !!), his dick has piercings <3, hate sex ??

note : okk here’s my response to this thirst ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

“Look at you,” you hear Dabi growl from just above you, his hand pushing your face deeper into your couch as soon as you’re trying to spit a slew of curses at him, “What’s the matter? That’s quite the face you’re making.”

His pace doesn’t falter, still relentless even when he’s jutting out his tongue to quickly swipe at the blood that’s begun to drip down the side of his mouth, the result of the way his lips are overly stretched in a scary smile— his mouth spreading a bit too far from the way he’s laughing at how you’re squealing underneath him. “S-shut up,” you try and bark back, voice trailing off into a loud gasp when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. “It’s t-too much. You gotta.. gotta slow down..!”

“Aww, you poor, poor thing,” he’s feigning sympathy, a terrible job at it— but the thumb that was previously pressing into your cheek a moment ago is now rubbing soothing circles against the skin. It does absolutely nothing to comfort you, only making your eyebrow twitch in annoyance at the mere thought.

“But.. i wouldn’t be complaining if i was you, little girl.”

You can smell the familiar scent of smoke as soon as he’s lowering himself to loom over you, the cold staples that line his chest now pressing against your back as you shiver. The movement has him suddenly reaching even deeper inside you, your eyes rolling further back into your skull when you feel a mixture of his cum and your juices spill out onto the fabric beneath you.

He was big enough as is… had already emptied himself inside you once tonight, got you completely filled up to the brim and yet you’re still somehow able to vividly feel the piercings lining his dick drag along your walls with each and every thrust.

The same walls he’s been so insistent on training. The same walls he’s always having to force to stretch out for him, make them open up and accommodate his thickness. It’s always been a mystery to him as to why you— down to your pussy, always act like such a fucking brat with him. Just how many times has he taken you by now?

Bent you over your couch, your table, he’s even taken you right on your welcome mat. But no matter how many times he buries his cock in you, he still has to spend his time working his fingers in you, get you all stretched out and ready to take him.

How much longer’s it gonna take for your pussy to ingrain the shape of his dick in its little mind?

He wants to make that happen tonight.

You hear Dabi loudly grunt above you before he’s suddenly grabbing you by your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to crane your neck and peer back of him, cock twitching when he sees you shoot him your best attempt a glare.

“Ahh, still a fuckin’ brat,” he acknowledges, “looks like our practice has been helping your stamina.” His voice is steady and low, and if it wasn’t for the hungry and crazed look in his eyes— one you can easily recognize as the same look he gets when he wants to see you screaming and shaking under him.. you’d probably think he was bored otherwise.

“You know… if you didn’t have such a cute face,” he’s leaning in, and he has to stifle a laugh when your eyes flutter shut in expectance. Oh— you cutie. Did you really think he was about to give you a little kiss?

How adorable of you. So you really can be sweet sometimes.

There’s a tight squeeze to your cheeks to get you back to looking at him, your tired eyes meeting with his again as your lips are forcefully puffing out in a pathetic pout from his grip. “There you are. Said that if you didn’t have that face, then it’d be my foot pushing your head down on that couch and not my hand.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“..Huh?” you ask incredulously, and he’s immediately taking back what he previously thought about you being sweet, not with that attitude you’re giving him. Your voice is breathless, and he can tell your mind has already started to go dizzy from how good he feels, but you still have your pride if nothing else— much to Dabi’s dismay. “Y-you’d better not..” you’re panting now, “put your grimy feet anywhere near my face.”

He only laughs. God, he’d never even dream of ruining that pretty face.

“Yea, yea,” he coos, abruptly letting go with a disappointed shrug of his shoulders as you yelp, hands coming to catch yourself as you fall back onto the couch. “Not that it’d even matter, dollface… ‘s not gonna change the way you’re looking right now.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, hands gripping around your hips now as he repeatedly pulls you back into him, bullying his achy cock into you over and over, ecstatic with the way you have to scramble to get a tighter grip on the couch, keep yourself braced and grounded so he doesn’t fuck you right off onto the floor.

And you’re being so loud. Did you really even hate him? Your neighbors wouldn’t think so. In fact, no one in a one mile radius would think so.

They would think you loved him.

“How cute— you’re already looking ruined.” There’s a subtle shake to his voice, a tell-tale sign that he’s starting to get close to his high, and the way he’s slamming so deep inside you is only a second confirmation of that. “Completely ruined. How’s that feel?”

“‘M not,” you spit back, glare contorting to a lewd expression as soon as he finds the spot that’ll have you creaming in seconds. Close. You’re so close, and it’s always about now when he starts fucking you like you’re nothing but a toy.

“Yeah?” and you absolutely hate that you know him well enough to be able to tell that he’s grinning ear to ear at the way you’ve started to tremble under him. “You’d break into pieces if i took off the brakes.”

“But you asked for it huh? Want me to destroy you and turn you into my dumb little cocksleeve?” He’s louder now, raising his voice so you can hear him over the shrieking sound of your moans. “Don’t needa ask twice, doll. now shut that bratty mouth of yours up already.”

[ylangelegy]

aventus creed ꩜ seungcheol x reader.

🍒: 10 years, i’ve been using it since debut… the reason why i still keep using this perfume is that once i arrive in the company and go to the practice room, starting from the elevator, they’ll know i’m coming. it became my trademark. [S.COUPS and DINO exposing each other 🤣 Switching their bags to show what's inside 👜 by W Korea]

── .✦ 💌 includes: fem!reader, soft!dom seungcheol, idol!seungcheol, lewd language, making out, fingering, use of 'sweetheart', mentions of exhibitionism, semi-public sex, unprotected sex.

── .✦ 📟 wc: 1,000<

── .✦ 🚏 MDNI. 18+ CONTENT.

It's the black currant that hits you first. It lingers the most— the woody top note, rounded off with the complex blend of bergamot.

It's never quite as strong when you only catch it in passing, but it lingers. In the elevator. In the hallway. The clearest indicator that he's already here, somewhere. Always a step ahead of you.

The base notes of birch and cedarwood only really hit once you're within his vicinity. You have to be in the same room to catch a whiff of it. Earthy and raw; hints of smoke and leather. It's a cooling, prickly scent, which is a small grace.

At least it doesn't overwhelm your senses when he has your back pressed against the door of the recording studio.

If anything, it's the bite of citrus that always gets you. The bright, tangy scent of lemon that's meant to be clean and refreshing.

There is nothing clean about the way Seungcheol's tongue dips in to your mouth, the way he swallows up every pretty little sound that you make.

There is nothing refreshing about the almost lazy way he kneads your breasts over your shirt, the way he relishes at the feeling of your pebbled nipples underneath the calloused pads of his thumb.

When he pulls away, suddenly, leaving you whining about the loss, he lingers for only a moment. Seungcheol had the capacity to be cruel if he wanted to, but not today.

"I know the studio is soundproof," he coos in to the crook of your neck as he nips at your pulse point, as he leaves open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His hands never leave your hips because he wants to keep you in your place. Wants you to remember where you belong.

"But let's still try to be quiet, hm? Can you do that for me?"

And how could you ever deny Seungcheol, really, when he spoke and looked and smelled like that? When he waits for you to nod and hums happily at your assent? When he rewards you, immediately, with his hands slipping lower, and lower, and lower?

When you bury your face in to his shoulder to hold back your moans, he hooks your thigh up his waist and pulls you flush against him. He holds you steady, holds you tight, as his fingers curl deep inside of you. As he whispers sweet nothings in to the side of your temple— litanies of you're so perfect and you're doing so well that contrast the relentless place he's set.

This close, you can pick up on the fresh scent of pineapple. Seungcheol is a big believer in applying cologne where it matters. Neck, chest, pulse points.

And so it's always the sweet, tropical fruit that's there as he coaxes you to finish, as he revels in the feeling of you tightening around his fingers and biting back your screams. Because he is also a big believer in having you finish first.

After that, though, he doesn't hesitate to take.

He'll guide you on to the too-small couch in seconds until you're sprawled out underneath him, where he promises to give you exactly what you want once he's had his fill. He'll take your clothes off for you, and if anything is in the way— a stubborn button, a stuck zipper— he'll just rip the damn thing off.

"Sorry, sweetheart, couldn't help it. I'll get you a new one, alright? I'll get you everything you want," he says hastily.

His attempts at appeasing you pale in comparison to the way he practically slams his aching cock inside of you, not even bothering, this time, to make you beg for it. Not when he wants it just as badly. He has half a mind to clamp one of his hands over your mouth, to muffle the shriek that rips out of you at the suddenness of it all.

It never seems to matter if he's opened you up, if he scissored his fingers in to you for God-knows-how-long. You're always so tight around him, taking him so well, that he can't help but let out a guttural groan himself.

Seungcheol is a busy man, so he makes good use of his time. He bullies in to your weeping cunt until you're writhing underneath him, until his palm is slick with your saliva and your teeth are catching on his fingers. He's a little better at keeping quiet than you are, but the occasional grunt will escape him— when your eyes roll back, when you flutter around him, when your pussy only seems to suck him in more.

At this point, the mossy, tropical notes of his cologne are a little harder to pick up, but he never fails to remind you of them as he angles himself to push in to you deeper, as he leans down to breathe the filthiest words in to your ear.

"How am I supposed to resist you when you look like that, sweetheart? How am I supposed to not lose my mind?"

"You're lucky I didn't spot you in the hallway. I would've taken you then and there. You would've liked that, hm? Want everybody in this whole goddamn company to know who fucks you stupid?"

"God, look at you. Getting all tight and wet at the thought. Maybe I should just let you scream, sweetheart. Maybe we can test just how good the soundproofing in this studio is—"

When all is said and done, once he's dragged you to finish another time— together, sweetheart, together with me, okay?— he takes care of you in the way that only he can. Promises of new clothes that he'll probably tear off again, if he had his way. Praises of you, you, you.

Seungcheol isn't the type to leave hickeys. He prefers to leave his mark in different ways.

All that really matters to him is that when the two of you walk out of that studio, he's not the only one who smells like Creed's Aventus.

[nemesyaaa]

western nights // mean!S2!barry x kook!reader x s2!rafe

summary ; /

warnings ; mentions and using of drugs. kinda violence. barry doesn't give a shit about pogue/kook thing. threesome(mxmxf/switch). smut without real plot. shotgunning (smoking). choking. double p in v. boys kissing (if you see that challengers reference, no you don't.), oral (f&m receiving.). scars mentions. threats.(3k words.). be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i want rafe and barry back as a chaotic duo for S4 part 2, please. it's a threat, not a request. im watching you obx screenwriters.

“someone you know very well owes me money.”

you looked up from your line of cocaine in a loud snort, before sitting comfortably on the bed while rubbing your nose to clean it quickly.

"and how does that concern me barry? you have your business, i have mine. and by the way, are you stalking my clients because you're losing yours ? ”

“ you’re such a fucking ungrateful princess. let me remind you that it’s because of me that you even have a business in the first place. you were nobody before i helped you, it doesn’t matter how much of a kook you are in this business.”

"wow.. someone’s got an attitude. it's not my fault your boy chose me over you.”

"yeah, he’s gonna regret that when you fuck him over."

“and why would i do that?”

he approached you, a big blunt falling out of his lips, before leaning toward you, made you feel quietly small. a short breath escaped your throat while you shivered. a smile with a wicked expression on his eyes showed on his face. “ still afraid of me. why ? it’s been a long time since i’ve had to put you in your place. you still got that scar? ” with a sick, softened voice, he added just over your lips. “that expensive makeup covers it up real good.”

“ what do you want, barry ? ”

in the intimacy of silence between the two of you, he pressed a thumb in the corner of your lips, letting his finger open it a little wider, before pulling out and blowing smoke directly into your mouth, letting your tongue disappear on the shot.

you scoffed, before your throat had swallowed the smoke. “ i want my money. and you're gonna do what i ask you. ”

“ and if i don’t ? ”

“ you don’t have much of a choice actually.”

barry placed himself above you, more threatening than when he welcomed you into his home. you placed a hand on his chest before responding calmly. “ don't be mad at me. it's your own fault you decided to trust him. why are you giving him free shit? you know he can afford it. and don’t give any of that ‘he said he’ll bring the money next time’ bullshit, when has rafe cameron ever been trustworthy?”

“ y/n. don’t start shit you can’t finish. ” he warned.

"what do you want me to do? you have a gun, and no reputation to preserve, if you want to shoot him, he's all yours. don't involve me in this. i'm having a good relationship with my client, do not mess it up. "

“do you think it’s that easy, princess?” he laughed nervously. "obviously. you really think I can get away with taking out Rafe Cameron?”

"i just think if you really wanted to, you would. Since when does Rafe scare you anyway? "

"i had a little disagreement with ward. it’ll just be easier if you handle it."

“what do i gain from all this?”

“It’s your choice. But we’ll talk about it when we’re out of this situation.”

you sighed. the next day, you invited rafe cameron to your house. like every time you called him, he came back.

“ so, where’s the coke ? ” he asked. “ tell me you have something for me. ”

"obviously I do, I'm a dealer, what did you expect ? But do I have any for you ? that's another question. ” you frowned. your gaze was on his beaten puppy face, his eyes were glinting, completely desperate, and his voice was almost pleading and nervous. “ i think i’ve been too nice to you, rafe. maybe i should be mean for once. look at this scar you have, should i give you another one? because that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t behave. ”

“I’m begging you, please. i'm gonna pay you back.”

"begging already? wow. tell me why i should believe you’re pay me back?”

“ just trust me. you know i have money, i just have to get it.”

“ i have no reason to trust you. “ you shook your head with a tsk tsk that meant you didn’t believe him. he was a pathological liar, it was in his nature to save his ass with lies.

you laughed in frustration, making him raise an eyebrow. "you’re gonna pay me back, huh? I’m not even the only person you owe money to. is this about what we did last time?”

“If i can recall, you were enjoying yourself just fine.” he cut in.

"rafe. you have nothing to offer me. to tell you the truth, if I really needed money, there are ways I can get it. So whatever is going on here, it’s not fair because you’re getting something out of it and I’m not.”

"I told you, I’m gonna pay you back, just please, give it to me. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

"We’re going to try this another way. I’ll see you tomorrow and if you have the money you owe us then you’re good. And I’ll take care of you again.”

you kicked him out of your house. the next day, he showed up in your room as you were coming out of your shower. you planned to procrastinate all day before he stormed off like crazy.

"What are you doing? You think you can show up here like this?”

“I have your fucking money. now, i want my coke. i did what you wanted me to do ! ”

you smiled, while giving a pat on his curtain bangs. “ good job, pretty boy. ”

“where’s the coke? give it to me. ”

“i don’t have any.” you replied.

rafe laughed, a nervous and uncomfortable laugh. he took a few steps towards you, pushing you against the wall.

“rafe?”

“where’s the fucking coke? ”

“dude, are you high?” you asked, suddenly unwell by the rising tension you can't feel through the air. “ i just tol...”

he was mad, more than that, frustrated. the way you played with his feelings, you were making him go around in circles. and his hands began to irritate him, to make him wickedly agitated. which meant that he was gradually losing control because you were showing that it was you who had the power. he was just asking for drugs, only a little. it was such a small ask in his eyes, just a fucking line how you gave him some every time he came. like a child's whim, you couldn't take away from him what you had always given him. from his point of view, it was not okay.

and the thing was, you were doing it just now. he felt a horrible chaos inside him which made him spiral. his hands fell terribly on your throat, fingers wrapping in tight around you like a collar.

"i just asked you a question. and you better hope your answer is what i want to hear, because if it’s not this isn’t gonna be fun for you.” he whispered, his lips softly ghosting over yours.

“you’re scaring me….rafe ”

“ good, maybe now you’ll show me some fucking respect.”

he grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to bend your knees so that you were at his feet. you coughed, and he responded with a smirk.

“i don’t have your fucking coke. "

“but you know what, that’s not fair. i held up my end of the deal, o got your money and you don’t have my coke.”

he slipped each of the bills against your tongue down to the exact amount he owed you, forcing your mouth to stay open.

"not having so much fun now, huh?”

“ what a great surprise, my two favorite people in the same place. " had commented a voice behind the kook.

it was barry. you and rafe both shivered. at the same time.

“what the hell is this ?” rafe replied.

“relax country club, i didn’t come to give you a hard time. ”

“so why are you here ?” Rafe replied.

you spat the money back into your mouth and barry came closer to you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you replied.

"so you're stealing my clients, you're taking my money and what more, you're lying to me?" barry had wisely articulated.

“wait, what do you mean?”

“shut up, rafe.”

“barry, it’s not what you think.”

"that's exactly what i believe. but you know what I believe even more? is that you need to be taught a fucking lesson.yeah, spoiled, rich girls like you need to learn that they can't play with everyone. come on, country club. ”

“barry.” you started. " listen..."

"I would love to listen to you, princess but I'm going to have a hard time doing once i fill that pretty mouth with my cock."

“what?” you retorted.

" oh you know, i'm in a grear mood. you seem to really enjoy playing with people around you. guess today, it's just my turn to play. i'm also thinking we should invite rafe to this game. would be fair actually. will princess be able to say sorry after being her nasty mouth being fucked to death ? ” replied barry by pulling you by the side of your face, hair caged in his grip, making you gasp.

“ pretty sure, bitch like her can. ”

" you're too high to even know where you put your dick. ” you said.

“ very funny. ”he laughed in a sarcastic way, before pulling his pants down, his cock slapping against his stomach, following his movement by plunging it straight into your mouth, one hand with rings covering your throat, pressed tightly his fingers against the back of your neck. “still funny?” he continued as he pushed himself even deeper, feeling his dick deep down in the inside of your pleasing mouth widening around him. “ can't even answer now. ”

Barry smiled before undressing his pants, guiding your hand to his own cock. you quickly got the hang of it, starting to masturbate him, your free hand circled around his full length stroking back and forth, all the while having rafe’s thick length, lodged hard in your throat.

your fist was wrapped around barry’s cock, fingers tightening and sliding around his girth quickly while rafe was buried completely inside your mouth, fucking you faster on the tongue. you already started to get soaked on the inside of your thighs, the wet forming a damp spot on the fabric of your underwear.

both boys stood in front of you, above your kneeling position while you were at their commands. barry invited himself into your mouth, his cock next to rafe's hitting your dripping, sloppy tongue. their two dicks were working your throat at the same time, same pace as your muscle rolled over the two shafts that stretched you open. you could feel the weight of their lengths filling your stuffed mouth. your face was weeping with spit and saliva.

you grabbed their cocks with your free hands, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your fingers, their grunts hovering in the room.

your mouth was completely blocked by the growing size of their dick. rafe smeared all the drool from your mouth on your face, before spitting on your tongue, followed by barry. you touched them both while continuing to deepthroat the two boys. you let your tongue run on the veiny flesh of their dick, trailing your wet muscle around their veins, followed by balls lapping. your received both of their cocks so well like you were always made for this. you coughed several times, letting a trickle of saliva slip from your jaw. they both pulled out, before slapping their cocks on your drooling cheeks. your face was pressed with tears, running down your skin to the floor.

“don’t be lazy, open your legs. ” ordered rafe.

you had spread your thighs, leaving them with a full view of your glistening pussy. “ but look at you, already so wet, soaking like a mess when neither rafe or me already touched you. ” barry mocked.

rafe pushed your glossy lips apart with two fingers making you suck on them, stuffing you full in the mouth to the throat and barry found a place between your legs, and trailed his tongue against your folds filled with wetness that poured over his face.

he traced your clit, before eating out your hole that was pulsing against his messy mouth, the way his tongue licked your slit, slurping in and out, before circling your beating clit. his lips were wrapped around you, dirty lapping your cunt as rafe taking his thick fingers deeper in your throat to the point you choked on them. he cleaned them with his own mouth, before diving his thumb in your lips. the corner of your mouth were foaming as he roughly brushed his digits inside your cavity, two fingers fucking your tongue and throat, as barry widly sucking your cunt. your taste were flowing and he keeping it before kissing you slowly, let in drip back in your mouth.

“ do not swallow it. i bet country club wants a taste of you…” he commented, through the kiss.

without swallowing, you kissed rafe, moving your lips against his and released your tongue over his own. you were over the moon, both of them kissing you, tongue mixed with streams of saliva, and nasty spits.

you placed your hand through your slit, before pushing your fingers against rafe's mouth, forcing him to open wider while you do the same with your other hand with barry's mouth, feeding the two boys with your juice flowing around their hanged jaw. you rushed your digits further in their throat, as they gasped around them. you were so turned on, the way they were literally drooling like dogs over your hands was making you feel insane.

you slowly pulled out your hands as their faces got closer to each other, while watching them kissing through your dirty fingers. you watched them with a twisted smile, as rafe hand reached the throat of barry, his thumb running over his cheek. your gaze was focused on them, and your ears filled with the wet and horny sound of them licking each other. that was hot, and you hated how hot it was. “ are you gonna fuck or should i do it all the work myself ? ”

“ want to be fucked so bad ? ” cutted rafe.

“ is my legs open enough for you, rafe ? ” you said, teasing him flirty.

“ she's really asking for it. ” answered barry.

“ which one's gonna fuck me first ? ”

they both laughed at you as you said something very funny. you raised an eyebrow.

“ you're gonna take us.”

“ it's not gonna fit. ”

“ it's gonna fit. because that pussy is tired of being tight. ”

when they started fucking you it made the heat rise inside you. your whole body was horribly hot, their two cocks were both pressed and stuck in the same hole. you gripped the sheets with your fist, while they stretched your weeping pussy over and over, shoving every inch of their cocks into your soaking pussy. your head was spinning as you lost yourself completely, your flesh smushed onto the mattress. both wrecked your canal, and hitting every one of your spots. you felt strange spasms, a mixture of pleasure and pain as you trembl d and moaned under their thrusts.

“ don't fucking cry, you're the one who wanted those cocks inside you. was too mean to do what your pussy begged for ? too late. neither rafe nor i are going to stop. ” shouted barry while ramming his hips against you in a brutal stroke, making you whine harder.

“ pl-please…”

“ the only thing you need to “ please please ” is for us to fuck you even harder. ” continued the curtain bangs one with a sick smile around his lips.

rafe shutted you cries with a rough snap of his hips, his firm body slammed into yours, while barry next to him, pounded you in the same raw way. his hair was messy as yours, unbrushed and bouncing against his shoulders, as the air became more hotter. you were crying and panting for breath like a crybaby, tits swaying while your vision was getting blurred.

the kook one grabbed your face, hollowing your cheeks with his fingers, before spitting in your open mouth, watching his globe of saliva dripping from your glossy lips. inspired, barry spat on rafe's mouth, forbid him to swallow with his hand brushed on his partner jaw before letting the spit drooling over your mouth.

the pace sped up, as your pussy squeezed them like a vice, the room filled with the wet smacking sounds of your core getting speared roughly. they were fucking you deeply, your cunt dripping around them as they thrusted into you back and forth, all spots getting touch.

next position, you were bouncing on rafe's dick, big hand tugged on your hips, your ass jiggling against and slamming into his large spreaded thighs, as barry letting you suck on his dick. you were giddy, feeling overheated, messing everywhere on both of them. they were working on each part of your body, the overstimulation draining you.

“ suck it well, pretty thing.” he grabbed your jaw, his glare locked into your teary eyes. “ don't forget that you have still another free hole. and trust me, you don't want two cocks in. ”

your mouth found barry's cock, tongue out and wrapped around his crazy shaft, as you slowly pushed your muscle above his tip. you were now used to it, and sucked it directly to the throat, you spitting on it before licking to feel the size hitting the deep of your neck. you were like a dizzy free-use doll that were fucked to heaven.

you placed the dick of barry between your swayed tits that was unstoppable because of rafe's hard strokes on your sloppy cunt. your cunt that was actually filled by his large cock. before starting to pump the dealer with your boobs, you caged the painful boner in the middle of your breasts, and pressed them to the bulging girth before moving up and down quickly. when you heard his raspy grunts near your ears, his mouth and breath brushed your sensitive skin, you accelerated the pace, leaving him growling speechless.

few minutes later, he came around your neck, painting your flesh with white loads. rafe released his cum in you five minutes after, while kissing you, swallowing every breath of yours.

you fell on your back, completely exhausted. “ you guys…are crazy…”

“ just the beginning. ”

[jiingyuans]

NSFW CONTENT || aventurine x gn!reader || 500ish words ||

fucking aventurine after work hours, a hand over your bosses mouth as he holds your forearm for some sort of stability. the desk creaks as if it's about to break – it might, it probably will. you don't really care right now, not when aventurine looks so pretty underneath you, face flushed and eyes watering. his eyes are mesmerizing, the way they unfocused with every thrust, the way they widen when your hand wraps around his dick and squeezes just right.

fucking him after work reminds you of the way your co-workers would smoke cigarettes after long shifts, you never understood it then but perhaps you get it now — the way he huffs out small, desperate breaths, the way his cunt tightens around your dick. it's addictive, it's refreshing. so, desperate as you are for this newfound addiction, you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head into the curve between his neck and his shoulder and you bite. you're close - far too close in such an embarrassingly small amount of time; you pull out, a dirty sound ringing through the room, though your mouth remains latched onto his neck.

his moan is sinful, loud enough to echo within the empty office. his hands find purchase within your hair, tugging as he rolls his head back to give you better access to his neck.

“fuck.. hah, i didn't take you for a biter.” he says, in-between gasps and sharp breaths. you feel him pull at your hair, a silent request to see your face. you don't want to indulge him yet, too busy marking his skin. 

“you can't blame me,” you tell him, pulling away from his bitten skin and looking down at him. he looks ruined, absolutely debauched, “have you seen yourself? beautiful.” you say, pressing your thumb down on a reddening bite mark.

he scoffs, though it's obvious he hasn't gone unaffected by your words by his reddening face. he tilts his head to the side, a confident smirk gracing his face.

“a flatterer too? my, my. you're making me blush,” he says, though that much is obvious as you pinch his cheek, feeling the warmth in-between your thumb and your pointer. he swats your hand away with a huff.

he tugs at your open collared shirt, tugging you down until your noses are practically touching. he bats his pretty eyelashes at you and wraps his arms around the back of your neck.

“how about you put that mouth of yours to better use, hm?” he asks. his confidence is adorable and you can't help but laugh at his demand.

“of course, sir.” you mutter, pressing a kiss to his jawline before moving down his body, pressing featherlight kisses and random bites among his skin until you reach his abdomen.

you make eye-contact with him, his avgin eyes watching your every move. you can see him shiver as your warm breath hits his crotch, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“whatever you want.”

[rennorthernlights]

Need that old man to blow smoke in my face from his expensive cigars while making me look at him.

Grab my chin and just keep me looking only at him. Maybe even force me to sit in his lap and look disapprovingly when I try to squirm off him. Whining to him about how he “should be working and not slacking off.” Course he won’t listen at all.

45 year old price save me . Save me, 45 year old John price

[moonstruckme]

Ik you're probably busy rn and you don't have to write this ir you don't wanna-

So remus with. Sensitive reader? Like i, personally, get teary any time someone yells at me or is angry ot condescending and i feel like even though Remus is th sweetest person ever when it comes to scolding, being reprimanded by my favourite person would so make me cry.

And we all know that Remus can get abit hot headed around the full moon so maybe smth along hurt/comfort w that ❤️

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: weed, mention of vomit (no description of any kind, just a brief reference)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 755 words

You steal the blunt from between Remus’ lips, holding out your bag of crisps as a trade. 

He accepts, side-eyeing you in a way you choose to interpret as playful. Although you know the days leading up to the full moon are hell for Remus, neither of you mind this part so much. You’d prepared last weekend, stocking your shared flat with lavish quantities of chocolate and weed which you allow yourself to sample as payment for your efforts and general good-girlfriend standing. You think you’ve done a decent job; your boyfriend is lax on the couch next to you, the space between his brows wonderfully smooth and free of the wrinkles that accrue there when he’s having one of his migraines. 

“Alright, you’re done after that,” he says as you inhale.

“What?” You let your mouth drop open in faux indignation, a giggle building in your chest. “No fair.” 

“Mhm.” He crunches noisily on a crisp, mindless of your pouting. “You’ve had enough, dove.” 

“Fine."

He leans forward for the blunt and you hold it for him as wraps his lips around it, exhaling the smoke with an insouciant expertise. He reaches forward to take it from between your fingers, but you move quickly, leaning away from his reach to take a swift hit. You imagine the smoke curling and winding in your lungs as you suck in a great breath. You blow it out the corner of your mouth, your lips twisting into a grin. 

Remus isn’t smiling. 

“Are you serious?”

His tone is incredulous, and your giggly high fades as you realize he’s not joking. 

“I just said you’ve had enough,” he fumes, snatching the blunt from you and squashing it into the ashtray on the coffee table. “Are you trying to green out? Because I’m not in the mood to clean up your vomit.”

Your mouth has gone dry. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Remus huffs, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your face burns. He’s exhausted with you.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, and though his tone has cooled slightly, the exasperation is almost worse.

“I don’t know,” you say. Your voice comes out squeaky and wrong. “I’m really sorry.” 

He looks over at you, some of the storminess clearing from his expression. 

“I thought we were playing, I—I wasn’t trying to—“ You take a shuddering breath, trying to keep the wetness in your eyes from escaping. “I won’t throw up, I promise.” 

“Hey.” He sounds almost confused, but it morphs quickly into alarm when you blink and a tear skids down your face. “Hey, don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry.” You push your fingertips into your eyes as if you can forcibly dam the flow. Your skin is hot to the touch. “I’m not trying to.” 

“Dove, come on.” Remus’ hands encircle your wrists. He pulls them towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” 

“No, you’re right.” Your voice quavers. “I wasn’t taking you seriously.” 

“I didn’t need to be stern with you,” he says, tone firm but soft as he raises your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “It was a misunderstanding. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.” 

You press your lips together, unsure how to respond but resolute on stopping your tears. 

Remus frowns. He sets your hands down carefully, using his thumbs to soothe over the hot tracks on your cheeks. 

“Sirius always says I get bitchy this time of the month,” he murmurs. A little laugh startles out of you, and he grins. You get the sense that was his aim. “Thank you for dealing with me when I get like this.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “I know you don’t have to, and I appreciate it. I’ll try to keep a better leash on my temper.” 

“I always want to deal with you,” you laugh, following it with a sniffle. “I think I need to keep a better leash on my delicate sensibilities.” 

“I love your sensibilities,” Remus argues. He mushes your face affectionately between his hands. “I’m sorry for scolding you, sweetheart. Do you feel sick?” 

You take hasty stock of yourself. You’ve definitely reached the point just past too much, but you’ll be okay. “Nope,” you report back happily. “But I do feel like I’d like some snacks, please.” 

Remus passes you the bag of crisps, then some chocolates, then a tin of biscuits. And you feast on kisses for the rest of the night.

[k6ssbxnny]

MDNI!!! Explicit content ahead.

Sleazy mechanic! Toji hears the low, scratchy rumble of tire and gravel closing in on his shop late at night and his first reaction is to roll his eyes in annoyance. Though sweaty n tired from working all day, he surges with energy when he catches sight of a you, doey eyes wet with tears, huffing and stuttering and babbling about some weird smoke puffing out from your car, how you're out here all alone, how you can't fix it no matter how hard you try, how this is all the money you have, and you really, really need help -

"'S not enough, little lady," he shrugs, knowing damn well it's plenty enough, sticking the wad of cash back in your manicured hands, wondering how they'd look wrapped around his fat cock.

"It's hard work fixin' a car this fucked, y'know?" It's not, he just likes how your tits bounce when you pace in a panic. Cute.

And you're begging and begging, pleading with him about how afraid you are of your weird, messed up car, how the only places to stay nearby are sketchy looking motels with broken doors and soiled beds, how you'll do just about anything, anything if it means he'll fix your car!

"S'pose I could make an exception, pretty girl," he muses, pretending to mull over your pleas as if he hadn't made up his mind the second he saw your ass,  "payment doesn't always have t'be in cash, right?"

And then you're squirming, thighs squished together as you get all slippery n sticky, whining for a bit of friction all from sucking his cock, nose pressed tight into his messy pubes as he sinks himself into your warm, wet mouth, bunching a fistful of your hair as he pumps into you, balls against your drool-slick chin, trying not to cum too quick. For a minute, he really does consider simply painting your pretty face, prying your mouth open and smearing his cum on your tongue with the chubby head of his thick dick. But then he sees your arched back, pushing the fat of your ass into your heels where you kneel, and he knows he can't just waste his cum on your mouth.

So he has you trapped and bent, on all fours like a bitch in heat, whimpering and mewling nonsense about how he's "too big", and that "i-it won't fit, c-can't, won't go in, please, I'll use my mouth!"

"Dunno, missy," he leers, pushing your head down with one hand and cupping a handful of your pudgy ass cheek with the other, so he can get a clear view of your sticky cunt, swollen and dribbling for attention. "Seems t'me that she thinks I'll fit." His lips curl into a lazy grin as he splits your slit with a thick thumb.

Your mouth pulls open into a soundless gasp when he bullies the head of his cock into you. There's nothing you can do except feel it, feel the stretch as he opens you up for him and he warmth of his chest as he mounts you, pushing you tight against the ground as he connects himself to you. He's rough: hard, slow, taking the time to pull his entire length out of you, linked to your pussy by a mere thread of precum, before stretching you open all over again, breaching your hole as you lose the ability to breathe properly, to think at all, reduced to all but a squealing, babbling mess, "f-faster, ah... t-too much! H-hard... s'good, m-mister Toji!"

You can't help but sink under the weight of his pounding, his heavy thrusts pushing your messy thighs apart as he beats himself into the space between your legs, calloused hands squeezing and teasing your tits.

"Don't run," he grunts, pulling your hips back to meet his pelvis as he stuffs you full, relishing in the feeble squeak that leaves your lips when he holds you still, forcing you in place while he slams into your hole, faster and faster - messier - as he nears his climax. He snakes a strong hand from your chest to your stomach, then down to your clit, rolling the puffy bud, rotating between soft, tantalizing touches and harsh, nearly sadistic pinches. You egg him on with your helpless cries, shivering and moaning some nonsense about how you "c-can't take it anymore, ah- ah! Gonna - mhm - g'nna cum!"

You clench around him so tight, pussy pulsing on him with so much strength that he gives into you wholly, prying your legs apart as he pushes his tip right up against your cervix, allowing himself the pleasure of a quiet, slight groan just before he spills into you, so much, and so heavy, and so thick that you can feel your insides twisting and churning from the impact of his dick, still throbbing into you.

When he pulls out, he makes sure to sit back on his heels, enjoying the look of his handiwork as you crawl and twitch aimlessly, semen filling the slit between your legs and dribbling lewdly over your lips, making a slow, sticky way down the fat of your welted thighs.

You look sweet, he thinks. He'll make sure to taste test you next time.

© 2024 k6ssbxnny

[loserboysandlithium]

A Taste: Eddie Munson One Shot

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: this is a series of one shots written in Eddie’s POV about his sexual experiences. ;) this one is the first time he got a taste. ;) I hope you enjoy. 🖤 Chapter list found here .

Part two:

“Just the regular?” I ask, my eyes shifting from her eyes straight to her tits. Fuck.

“Mhmm..” she hums lightly, a slick smile spreading on her pretty lips. This time she’s in a little black dress. Short. Fuck, is it short… the material clinging to her curves in all the right places.

I grab the little baggy from my lunchbox trying to shake all the dirty thoughts from my mind and spin around to see her plopped down on my bed flipping through my sketchbook.

“These are really good, Eddie.” she smiles sweetly, flicking her eyes up to me.

This was the last thing I needed. Her seeing my dorky drawings of dragons and elves. I could feel my face getting hot. She was so far out of my league and I was already nervous enough.

“They’re nothing. Just some random shit.” I try to laugh but it comes out slightly hoarse, making me groan out loud.

“You okay?” she giggles as she sets the notebook to the side, shifting slightly causing her dress to ride up her thighs. Her legs part just a bit, the smallest glimpse of her panties now on display.

“You look pretty. Really fuckin’ pretty.” The words fly from my lips before I can stop them and I watch as her lips curl into a smile.

She pats the mattress beside her and I make my way over, sitting down at least a foot away from her. Fuck, she makes me nervous.

“I won’t bite.” she teases, scooting herself closer so her leg is now pressed against mine.

“You wanna smoke?” I ask as I pull a pre rolled joint from behind my ear.

“Mmm, please.” she hums, her eyes flicking to the joint in my hand before landing on my lips again. I place the joint between my lips, striking my zippo, bringing the flame to the rolling paper as I inhale deeply.

Smoke fills my lungs as I offer her a hit. She smirks as she takes it between her finger and her thumb, taking a long drag for herself. My eyes remain on her mouth, watching as the smoke rolls beautifully from her plump lips as she exhales.

We pass it back and forth a few times, a nice buzz settling across both of us. She’s closer somehow, I can feel her against my side as I turn to look down into her pretty eyes. She takes a deep hit, her fingers landing on my chin, gripping tightly as she pulls me close.

Fuck. My lips brush hers as I part them, allowing the smoke to transfer from her mouth to mine. And then it was over. I shoved my tongue in her mouth, tasting the weed as our tongues swirled together, both of us panting into the kiss.

Her hands grasped at my shirt taking two fistfuls as she pulled me down on top of her. My hands were shaking just a bit as they began to roam across her body. Holy fuck.

And then I was between her thighs, her tiny dress shoved above her hips as I yanked her panties down, flinging them to the side.

My tongue glides through her folds, her slick coating it completely. The moan that left my body was one I’d never heard before. I hook my arms under her thighs, pulling her closer as my eyes fall shut, my tongue alternating between flicking and swirling, my lips moving erratically across every part of her wet pussy.

“Eddie, fuck.” she moans softly, her fingers threading into my curls as I open my eyes to look at her. Fuck me.

Her lips are parted, her eyes locked on mine as I begin to suck gently on her clit. “Yes, baby. Mmmm..” she breathes, her hands holding my head in place.

“Feel good?” I gasp as I come up for a bit of air. I’m fucking drunk on her taste as I meet her eyes once again.

“Mhmm. Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” she whimpers making my dick fuckin’ throb.

I move my hands to her inner thighs, spreading her legs even more, pressing her knees hard into the mattress as I slide my tongue as deep as possible earning the sweetest little cry from her.

“Oh fuuck..” She lets out a soft whine as I begin to fuck her with my tongue.

My hips rut against the mattress, my cock aching for any fucking friction as she falls apart beneath my tongue. I think I’m gonna cum.

“Eddie, holy shit baby. So good.. feels so fucking good.” she praises and my eyes almost roll to the back of my head. I move back up to her clit, tugging the sensitive bud between my teeth making her hips jolt up just as I slip two fingers into her pretty pussy.

“Fuck! J-Just like that.” she cries as I curl my fingers into that soft spot inside of her. I can feel her all over my fingers, sticky and warm as I begin to fuck her.

My brain goes fuzzy. Her taste, the way she feels clenching around my fingers, the lewd sounds of her perfect pussy sucking my fingers in again and again. Her back arches off the bed as her nails dig into my scalp, the sound that comes from her lips is downright pornographic as she soaks my hand making me come undone. I can feel my warm cum making a mess inside my jeans as I moan into her sweet pussy.

I remove my fingers, bringing them to my lips, sucking them clean of every bit of her cum as I kneel on the bed.

“More, sweetheart. Fuck. Want you to ride my face. Please.” I beg, desperation laced in my tone. I needed more. I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Yeah, baby? You gonna make me cum again?” she laughs breathlessly, pushing my chest hard making me fall to the bed.

“Anything for you.” I whisper, watching in awe as she crawls toward me.

She moves to straddle my face, her dripping pussy hovering just above my lips.

“Good boy.” she purrs.

🖤Tag list: @hideoutside @chrrymunson @trinitywifey @hellfirenacht @emsgoodthinkin @blood-puppy @gri959 @girlfuckthatwhore @joannamuns9n @harrycanyonmoonn @mrsjellymunson @leelei1980 @little-wormwood @melifluorei-d @mrsmarch64 @avavolturi @munsonsblunt @darknesseddiem @yujyujj @eddie-munsonsbitch @ali-r3n @oliskitten @jessicakennedy957 @costellation-hunter @spenciesprincess @siouxiesiouxtryhard @josephbuttoneyes @jamiecb66 @amoiur @eddiernunson @floredaqueen @manda-panda-monium @tclick73 @moviefreak1205 @lil-quinnie @asimpforthe80s @phoenyxrayne @luv4peterba1lard @mrsrdlw @bug-boy32 @hanahkatexo @wasabimia @zeysartzone

I’m not sure if I missed anyone but I’m so sorry if I did and if you’d like to be added or removed just lemme know 😘🖤

[actuallysaiyan]

The Way You Push, Push Let's Me Know You're Good(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, smoking, drinking, oral sex(male receiving), rough oral sex, throatpie word count: 0.8k pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: it's been a long day and Kento just wants to unwind...with his favourite drink, his favourite cigarette and his favourite girl...

It’s been a long day for Kento. He doesn’t like using you for his own stress relief a lot of the time, but sometimes it’s most needed. So when he got home and saw you in the kitchen finishing up the dishes, his cock grew hard. He knew he had to have you right then and there.

So with his glass of whiskey in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other, Nanami watches as you kneel in front of it. The words of praise that come from his lips sound just a little more dirty tonight. Your eyes are glued to him, and your hands work to unbuckle his belt. With every action you do, you look up to make sure your husband is still happy with the outcome.

The tip of his cock is an angry purple color, and it leaks lots of pearlescent precum. Your mouth begins to salivate and water as you reach out to stroke him. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the thick shaft. Kento’s head falls back on the headrest of his recliner.

“What a good girl you are for me,” he grunts as you pick up your pace.

More of the fluid begins to leak out, coating your fist and making things so much easier for you. Kento takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the partly opened window.

“Ready to suck my cock now?” He asks even though he can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re more than ready to do so.

Your pretty lips part as you wrap them around the tip of his cock. The musky flavor of him hits your tongue, making your whole body tingle. You moan as you begin to take even more of him into your mouth. Kento lets out a satisfied hiss.

“You really are such a good little cocksucker.”

Your pretty eyes look up at him, and he reaches down with his free hand to gently caress your cheek with his thumb. Gradually, you start up at a pace that feels comfortable for you. Soft grunts and groans rumble from his broad chest as you bob your head up and down, tongue swirling over the head each time you pull up.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. “Just like that, pretty baby. It’s like you’re worshiping my cock.”

Once more, you look up at him to get that sweet approval and praise. You decide to take more of him into your mouth, but you feel your throat stretching too much and you have to pull off of him to breathe. You sputter and cough a little, and Kento reaches over to wipe away the small amount of drool that dribbles down to your chin.

“Think you can go a little longer for me?” He asks, taking another drag from his cigarette. Then he ashes it out, reaching for the glass of whiskey. The ice has melted a bit and the condensation on the outside of the glass causes his hand to become a little damp.

He wipes his hand on his expensive dress pants before his fingers tangle in your hair. He pushes you down onto his cock, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way you’re so eager to swallow him down. Kento smirks as you stop halfway, trying to adjust yourself to the sheer size of him.

“Breathe, pretty girl. Breathe for me.”

And with that, his other hand comes down to join the first one. He pushes you down onto his cock, feeling you gag and cough. But you continue to breathe through your nose just as he instructed. He pushes your head further until his cock is so deep in your throat. Your nose is pressed against the soft patch of light brown pubic hair.

“Fuck that’s it. Drool for me, pretty girl.”

The words he says hit you so hard. You feel your cunt growing hotter and wetter as he uses his mouth to his satisfaction. Slowly, his hips begin rocking and he’s fucking your mouth. You can tell by the way his thighs tense and shake that he’s close to his orgasm. You try your best to look up at him from this position, and he grunts.

“You ready for it? Huh?”

But he doesn’t need to hear the answer. The muscles in his groin begin to tense as the pleasure has boiled over the point of no return. Loud gasps and moans fill the room as Kento cums deep down your throat. His balls grow tighter and tighter with each pulse, and the cum slides down deep. You struggle to keep swallowing it all, but he’s got a strong grip on you.

When he pulls you off his cock, he admires his handiwork. Your lips are swollen, drool and cum mix together to dribble down your chin and onto your shirt, and your hair is so messy. You’ve got that cute fucked out look in your eyes too.

“Such a good girl for me. I think you deserve a reward, hm? What do you think?”

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 10

pt 9 here

Content: direct cont of last chapter, just more unshamed flirting, uncanon hcs on how he grew up, MENTIONED of Choso seeing reader as untouched (?), small time skip for my own sanity. Choso is an ex smoker- ill circle back to that, talk of exes, not so much stalking- again, next chap will have that dw, some excerpts from Winnie the Pooh- another hc of mine, its happening guys. Word Count: 6.8k

(a.n) wow, a whole month and im barely posting, (sorry) new writing style too👍🏽 the lil .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚⊹⋆ ⁺   . guys mean a different scene btw.

Taglist: @eristi @sunaumi @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @1arminsimp @hannas16 @chosowhore @tojicvmslut @ofalcaodacolinablue @thesharkcollector @mochipip @hotvillianapologist @ziklope @saeline @morinuu @b3llair3 @24hrnanami

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Looking at you, Choso felt the sudden urge to tell you just how much he loved you. Sitting in his shabby apartment- not caring for the mess or how dingey it was. Still- you cared enough to go see him. He knew it was you- and it will always be you. Be it the dissolving cold medicine in his tummy- or if he really felt this way. In that moment, Choso was so sure he loved you, issues and all. “This is what happens when you spend more time outside than inside.” you hummed, being able to hear his ragged breathing from the chair.

“I hardly get sick.” he coughed, making you perch your eyebrows, all but saying ‘be real.’ He gulped, feeling his sore throat make it difficult to swallow.

“It's true.” he huffed, looking at you seriously. “You strike me as someone with a…” you hesitated, trying to find the correct word. Making him look at you with curious eyes, “-with a wavering immune system.” You grinned, making him nod his head in agreement. “You don't get sick?” he asked, tone sincere. “I never get sick.” you hummed, flaunting your health in his face. “It's been 3 years since I had a cold so-” you laughed, “I can truly say- I don't get sick.” he looked at you with believing eyes. 

“You're right though- I do have a sucky immune system,” he sighed, twiddling with his thumbs in his lap, you hummed with a smile. “Too much of what growing up?” you asked, sensing it was caused by something from his upbringing. Choso grimaced, not wanting to admit it. Mind flashing back to the instagram story you posted at the beginning of the semester. Something about ‘why smoke when so many things are trying to kill you-’

You twitched your head, waiting for him to answer. He inhaled, looking away from you as though you were already scolding him. “I used to be a heavy-” he started, lowering his tone. “...smoker.” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut- waiting for you to start speaking. You sighed, making him turn his head over to look at you again, eyes squinted and arms crossed. Nodding your head ‘no’ disapprovingly. “Not anymore though-” he defended, not wanting to upset you. Face churned with worry that this was something you'd never forgive.

You gave him a half laugh, “Choso- I don't care if you used to smoke-” you furrowed your eyebrows, not knowing why he thought he had to defend himself to you. “I mean-” you started, seeing his face fall. “I obviously care if you do- but this was before you knew me.” You smiled, making him exhale the breath he held in his chest. “And besides, who am I to scold you on a bad habit?” you hummed, making him open his mouth to speak. “It doesn't bother you?” he leaned onto his hand planted on the bed, intrigued to hear your answer.

“It would bother me in a- ‘want you to be healthy’ way.” you droned, looking away from his face- being able to see small glimmers form in his eyes at your words. “But if it's your choice, and you want to do it. Don't let my opinions base your choices.” you assured, making him rest back onto his bed in ease. Pressing the back of his head onto the wall in thought. Even if you told him not to- he'd still use your words to make his life choices. ‘Because it is only you who I am trying to impress.’

Inhaling sharply at the feeling of heavy tension in the air, looking to his nightstand and scanning a small stack of books. Noticing he had some of the same ones you had on your nightstand. “Winnie The Pooh?” you asked, looking at his blushed cheeks and pinched eyebrows at your observation. “I uh- I used to read it to my brothers.” He mumbled, seeing your delicate hands pick up the green cover, flipping through the well cared for pages with a smile.

“I brought it with me knowing if I left it, they'd find a way to destroy it.” he laughed. You looked back to him as you gently flipped through the pages, smiling when you saw the small rips and folds from how long he had it. Noticing his slow blinks and how he was manually breathing now-

“All the years I spent repeating those pages and I don't remember a single thing from them.” he muttered, looking down at his hands- almost sad. You blinked back to look at him, “Why’s that?” you hummed with a small smile, secretly elated that he was finally opening up a little, instead of asking about you. “I never focused on the words.” he muttered, looking at the tearing corners of the green cloth cover.

“I think it's because I always tried to make sure they were entertained- that they enjoyed what I read.” he mumbled, seeing you carefully flip the pages. Knowing it held sentimental value, Choso looked at your gentle grasp on the books as though you were holding his heart in your hands. Using all the care in the world as you examined it. “How old were you?” you asked, closing the cover and placing it on your lap. Scanning his soft expression at your question. 

“When you first read it to them?” You clarified making him bat his eyes down to his hands, unable to withstand the burning gaze you held to his skin. “Eight- maybe nine.” he mumbled, unpleasant memories flooding into his mind again. “Before your mom-?” you pressed, seeing his eyebrows furrow. With a small nod, he exhaled, “I picked it up one day. Not knowing I'd reread it for the next 13 years.” Choso scoffed Remembering the last time he read it to Yuuji, a bittersweet smile on his lips. “Sad huh?” he looked back at you, seeing your eyebrows curled up with sad eyes below them.

You inhaled, placing your hand flat against the book on your lap, “No, Choso. It's not sad.” You grinned, “It's actually really sweet.”, letting out a half laugh from your nose. Holding up your thumb and pointer finger, pinching the air “A tiny bit sad-” you whispered, making him let out a half laugh from his chest. “But sweet.” you assured.

Choso gave you a few slow blinks, feeling his throat dry. Closing his eyes in an attempt to blink, but keeping them closed. “M’tired.” he mumbled, making your shoulders tense- coming to the realization that you infiltrated his space uninvited. You widened your eyes, “Shit- sorry-” you whispered, placing the book on his night stand before going to stand up. Choso’s eyes flashed open, reaching for your wrist. Being able to fully wrap his fingers around it. Looking up at you with panicked eyes, a stare you hadn’t seen before.

“Stay.” he whispered, looking down at him with wide eyes, his grip on your wrist wasn't firm- showing you just how tired he was. “Please.” Soft tone making you blink down at him. It's not as though you needed any convincing. 

You smiled, pressing your other hand onto his knuckles. Soothing his nerves, “Okay.” you whispered, sitting back down. “I'll stay.” you murmured, his shoulders easing as his cheeks blushed at the embarrassment. “Lay down.” you instructed, reaching for the book again. Furrowing your eyebrows when you saw him slowly easing into his own bed. Almost uncomfortably. 

Choso looked over to you, resting his head lightly on the pillows to avoid the embarrassment of his bed frame collapsing. He huffed a pained laugh from his chest seeing your expression, “If I move too quickly- it'll break.” he explained, making you nod your head with a smile. “Now I know what to get you for your birthday.” you murmured to yourself, making him let out a weak ‘haha’, as his eyes threatened to close. His grip on your hand tightening, to be sure you wouldn't leave if he went to sleep.

Scooching the rolling chair closer to the bed, side of your thigh pressed against his mattress and you faced him. “I think it's your turn to be read to.” you mumbled, pulling your hand from his briefly and placing the book back on your lap, cracking it open, placing the spine between your closed thighs and holding onto his hand again. 

Thumb brushing gently against his knuckles, as your fingers flipped the pages. Tender gaze staring at you as though this was the first time he was ever taken care of. As though this was a marvel.

Making sure to keep your tone soft- inhaling softly before you started, “Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now-” the words fell from your lips in whispers, gracing his ears as he looked at the afternoon sun peaking through. His eyes scanning your features- the way the sun peeked through your eyelashes, how you smiled reading the childish words. When you looked back to him to see if he was still with you, and how gentle you were. Holding his calloused hand as though he was made of lace.

Eternally grateful for the universe putting you here. “Isn’t it funny how a bear likes honey?” you spoke gently, fingers grazing the edge of the old page.

Being able to see every unique characteristic that graced your skin thanks to the warm sun. “It's a very funny thought that if bears were Bees, They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.” you smiled at the silly rhyme, cheekbones glowing when you grinned. Unaware of how badly he yearned for you. How he missed you even if you were sitting inches away from him.

“How sweet to be a cloud, floating in the blue. Every little cloud always sings aloud.” hazy eyes looking at you through his eyelashes, parting his lips that threatened to speak before his mind caught up. ‘It’s you.’ he thought, feeling his lips move, the words at the tip of his tongue as you flipped the page.

Looking up at him from the book, making him close his lips, “It makes him very proud to be a little cloud.” you smiled at him. “Are you proud to be a little cloud Choso?” you hummed with a sappy smile, making him close his eyes and nod, “Only if you're a cloud with me.” he croaked quietly, making you tighten your grip on his hand before continuing to read.

Choso looked at you with a content smile on his lips, heart beating strongly in his chest. Blinks become longer and longer as you flip the page. Your words become mumbles in his mind as his blinking halted. His hand slowly went limp in yours as you continued reading softly. 

Hearing soft inhales and exhales from him as you closed the book. Soft eyes scanning his expression, finding it adorable how quick he fell asleep. But the adoration churned to sadness- not knowing precisely why he was never read to as a child. But knowing he grew up always taking care of everyone but himself, you saw it in the way he spoke to you. In the way he tried sparing your feelings anytime he'd say something out of turn, and most of all you tasted it in the way he cooked for you.

Thinking how crazy it was that even if you had been friends with him only for a few weeks- you still felt sad for him. You felt. For him. Which was more than you could say for anyone else you had met in that place. 

You huffed with a smile, looking away from him as you derailed your own train of thought. Now taking the chance to look around his apartment- at the walls, at the broken blinds, at the small kitchen. You looked back down to the hand that softly held yours, taking the time to admire them now that he wasn't awake to catch you. 

Calloused- but they were warm. Tender. Brutish knuckles that you knew held power behind them, softly scanning the scars he told you stories about. Slowly pulling your hand from his grasp, grazing the tips of your fingers on his painted nails. Admiring how well you painted them. 

Snapping yourself out of the daze you put yourself in, suddenly feeling very creepy for staring at your friend who was innocently sleeping. You nodded your head at your wandering thoughts, god. Here he was practically dying of the plague and you were being skeevy. With a sigh you pressed your hand to your forehead, trying to think on what to do now. You didn't want to leave- but it seemed even weirder to stay. You inhaled, pushing the chairs' wheels back with your feet, standing up and looking down to him.

All but saying it since it was smeared on your expression, thankful he was sleeping or else he'd see it. Here he was- man who you put so much effort into flirting with. You see, with most men- they were easy. One little bat of the eye and a sweet smile and they'd do anything to take you home. But with him- he'd offer to take you home, without any ulterior motives.. Walk you up to your doorstep to be sure you are safe. Which only made the kindness you had easier to give. 

So there you were, disguising your snooping as being kind. Taking quiet steps around his apartment. Not daring to actually open anything- but it was tempting. Hands behind your back as you looked at the small crack of his closet door. Squinting at it before looking to his kitchen, making sure to step quietly on the creaky wood floors. Looking back at him anytime a creak was a little too noisy. 

Curious as to what was in his fridge- as good as he cooked he must have more than enough ingredients in his fridge, right? 

Staring into Choso’s fridge, furrowed eyebrows staring at one old lime and a single bottle of ketchup. It looked sadder than the one at your own house did. You closed the white door and opened the freezer- nothing. You expected at least liquor- any college student with a fridge has at least a bottle to fall back on. 

You looked back at Choso, almost scolding him in your mind. And with the sight of his sleeping face- the marvelous idea popped into your mind. Taking a few steps to stand above his desk, taking the pink post-it stack and a black pen before writing a small note. Smiling as you wrote the stupid words. 

Placing the pink post- it on his night stand, smiling before looking down to his peaceful expression. Inhaling quickly before walking back to the entryway, coat in hand as you look back once more before opening the door- making sure not to lock it for when you'd be back.

Even in his sleep Choso heard the door close, but that's not what woke him. What woke him was his neighbor slamming their front door shut. Making him jolt awake in his own bed. Panicked eyes scanning the four walls of his apartment expecting to see you, only for you not to greet him when he woke. Choso felt a little disappointed. Mainly with himself for thinking you'd be here when he woke. That you'd wait for him. 

He sighed, sitting up slowly and trying to blink away his exhaustion. Looking to his nightstand and seeing a misplaced post-it, small smile forming on his ill lips as he read your writing. ‘Had to go get a few things. be good and take ur medicine! I'll be back soon :) - the best nurse you will ever have,’ he smiled reading your initials at the bottom of the note.

 And as you instructed, Choso took the medicine you placed on his side table, noticing his throat wasn't as achy as it was before you got there.

There was a hint of panic in his breaths, anxiety and trailing thoughts scared that you snooped. That you found something that you shouldn't have. Even if he hid everything- there was still the fear that he forgot something. Choso sighed and looked over to where he tossed his phone, faced down and silent. He picked it up and saw way too many notifications from his brother, with a sigh he returned his call. 

Closing his eyes as the dial rang through his ear. Hearing the receiver click- ‘hello?’ He heard his brother's voice in his ear. “You called?” he huffed, knowing his voice sounded a bit groggy. 

‘I was trying to cockblock you.’ Yuuji laughed, making Choso scoff and roll his eyes. Leaning an arm on the bed, knowing not to take his jokes too seriously. “You'd do that to your big brother?” taking a sarcastic tone, as he felt his brain pound against his skull.

Choso heard a quiet snicker come from the phone, ‘How are you feeling?’ Yuuji asked, Choso gave an exasperated sigh. “Better. I feel better. I think the worst is over.” Choso grumbled, hearing his brother let out agreeing hums.

‘Is your ‘friend’ still there?’ Yuuji asked in an accusatory tone, “No. No, they left.” Choso exhaled, flashing his eyes to that vent he hid his shame in. ‘Good thing or a bad thing?’ he asked knowing his big brother had a tendency to overcomplicate his own feelings. “I have-” he exhaled, staring at the door of his apartment, “No idea Yuuji.” he closed his eyes, feeling the confusion and those complicated feelings eat away at the illness.

He gave a strained laugh from his chest in disbelief, “I have no clue what I'm doing.” closing his eyes and remembering all the times you've tried to make a step forward. Only for Choso to take 3 back. “I’m fucking this up Yuuji.” he huffed, his baby brother was silent on the other line, hearing the worries spill from his mouth. 

‘How?’ Yuuji asked, only wanting to gauge how to go about this. “I came here for you guys. To be better. For you all to be comfortable and happy.” he started, hearing Yuuji sigh through the phone, ‘I've told you a million times- you don't have to worry about us.’ His brother had assured him of this plenty of times. Choso felt small whenever he tried to talk about it but the day came when he felt a wisp of resentment in his heart. And he knew he had to talk about it or else he'd grow angry towards the reason he was put on this planet.

And it was true, Choso eased off a little. After a lengthy conversation with Eso about how it feels to be plagued with being the oldest- his brother assured him he was put on this planet with no purpose. He didn't have to live just for them.

Then came the tattoos and the piercings, trying to find himself in the body mutilation. Somewhere in his heart he knew he came to college to find himself too. Just like you did.

‘You like this person?’ Yuuji spoke up, throwing Choso out of his thoughts. It was a thought he didn't want to think, in his mind he loved you. It felt like true love when he was with you. But actually saying it- telling his brother that you, a person he didn't know a few months ago, had invaded his goal of being better for his family. It was a hard thing to say, and to think.

That he wasn't there just for his family and himself anymore, he was here for you now too. 

“I do Yuuji.” he scoffed, hearing the smile form on his brother's face through the phone. ‘In a ‘this persons pretty cool’ or like how I feel about that actress from the hunger games?’ Yuuji joked, making Choso lean his elbows on his knees and smile, “Neither-” Choso scoffed, “In a way I feel consumed by them.” he mumbled, hearing pensative noises coming from the phone, ‘Maybe m’not the best person to speak to this about-’ he laughed, ‘I've never felt ‘consumed’ by how much I liked someone before.’ he admitted, making Choso nod his head disapprovingly.

Hearing footsteps darken his doorway- along with the brass doorknob turning, frightened that it was someone other than you. Only it was you- stepping into his apartment as though it was your own. Your shocked eyes looking at Choso’s face, not expecting to see him awake. “Sorry-” you grinned with a whisper, stepping in fully and softly closing the door behind you. Seeing he was on the phone.

‘Did they come back?!’ Yuuji blurted, “I'll call you later.” he mumbled into the phone, seeing you place handfuls of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Making his cheeks blush at how domestic this whole thing was starting to feel. His brother started yapping a million questions before Choso pulled the phone from his ear, “Later. Yuuji.” taking a stern tone as he clicked the red button on the screen.

In Choso’s heart he felt guilt- guilty for even thinking about questioning his devotion towards you. All he needed to see was that sweet smile grace your lips to remember how he felt. 

“I didn't know what to bring- so I brought it all.” you huffed with a smile, unpacking the groceries from the plastic bags. Choso looked at you baffled at the unnecessary act of kindness. Looking at him with sweet eyes, “You look better.” You smiled with closed lips, Choso’s cheeks tingled at the tone you took. “Do I?” he muttered, pushing a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. 

“Your color came back- Before I left you looked like a ghost.” You joked, turning around and placing a few bags of vegetables in his fridge, making Choso cringe knowing you had seen the sad contents of his fridge. “My uh-” he shifted on his bed, watching as you put away the various items you bought for him. “-brothers tell me I look like a ghost most of the time.” he smiled, hearing your shoes thump on the vinyl flooring. 

You scoffed, looking at his face once more, tilting your head as you examined his features. Choso couldnt help but squirm feeling your eyes on him. You let out a small giggle, looking away from him before opening a bag of bread. “You do.” he sighed in defeat, watching your nodding head as you pulled out two slices from the thin bag. 

“Shit-” you mouthed, looking up at him as you held the bread in your hands, “Can I… borrow your stove?” you grimaced, scanning his confused expression. “I'm starving.” you reiterated, noticing he made that face he made when his mind would run a million miles a minute as he thought.

What confused him wasn't the question- more like ‘You've already made yourself at home- why ask to use my stove? What's mine is yours.’ but what stuttered from his lips was, “Yeah- go for it.” as you reached into a cupboard, pulling out a charred skillet as though you were the one who put it there, your delicate hands turning the metal knobs on the stove. 

Choso watched you from a distance- as though if he got too close you'd fade away. Watching as you buttered both sides of each slice before placing them on the skillet, “You want one?” you hummed, unwrapping the yellow squares of cheese and placing them onto the toasting bread.

Choso smiled, “I thought you didn't cook?” he spouted sarcastically, watching as you plucked a plastic spatula from the utensil holder, “Two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese is not cooking.” you retorted with a smile, flipping the toasted slices of bread. “Your opportunity for a grilled cheese made with love is waning, Choso.” you teased, seeing his face fall at the sudden words. 

Nodding his head quickly once he processed your choice of words, “Plates?” you asked, even from a distance you were able to see his pupils dilate. He smiled, seeing your lips form a smile along with him. “How mad would you be if I told you I don't have any…?” he grinned, making you suck your teeth harshly, a snide comment forming on your tongue but holding it back. 

Plucking two white kitchen napkins from the stray roll he had on the counter, placing the well toasted grilled cheese onto it before scooping it in your hands. Taking a few paces towards him, looking down at your feet as you stopped right before him. “You need plates.” you practically scolded, making him look up at you with a bashful grin. “I know.” he whispered, taking the napkin plate from your hands- his fingertips grazing against the back of your palm. 

The feeling of shock from touching you diminishes with every purposeful graze from his hands. You irked your head, shaking off the goosebumps that formed on your arms as you walked back to the stove, flashing a few stares to him as you buttered the sides of your own grilled cheese. 

Placing the toasted bread onto your own napkin plate, tying a small knot onto the bread bag, cleaning up after yourself as Choso held the sandwich in his hands. Waiting for you to finish so he could eat. 

You looked up from the counter, huffing with a small chuckle, “Choso you can eat.” You flashed him a toothy smile as you turned off the stove, “M’waiting for you.” he spoke with all the honesty he could muster.

'I will always wait for you.’ he thought, a glimmer shining in his eyes as he bounced his knee slowly. 

“Don't wait for me Choso.” you muttered, as though you read his mind, picking up your makeshift plate and walking over to him, sitting back onto his rolling chair as he watched you with a grin. 

Nodding your head- practically having to give him permission to eat, raising the sandwich to his mouth and taking a bite. Following what he did as you both chewed in silence. 

“Why'd you bring me groceries?” he spat, almost as though his mouth spoke before he could think about it. You thought about it- not having any real reason other than it felt like it was the right thing to do. “No man should have to live with an empty fridge.” you settled on that being a decent response, Choso nodded his head, agreeing with what you said. 

“I'll pay you back-” he declared, seeing your face glow with a cheerful smile, “You don't have to.” you scoffed, holding the crumbly bread in your hands. “S’what…friends do for each other.” there- you did it again. You hesitated before calling him your friend. Choso noticed this since you tried to present him to your roommates friends.

“Why're you so nice to me?” he breathed, avoiding your eyes as he looked down to the sandwich. “Were back on this again?” you kidded seeing his smile fall- actually thinking on why you were being kind, “If we're being honest- you brought this up first.” He defended coyly, “Choso.” you called his name seriously, making his eyes bat up to look at you with a hung head, “I’m nice to you because I like you.” You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. 

“You're nice to everyone though-” he retorted quietly, trying his best to not let the blatant jealousy show through his tone. “I pretend to be nice to everyone, yeah-” you smiled, “But I have never been- this. Nice to anyone before.” You assured, your cheeks warming from his borderline possessive words. 

Choso looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, all but asking ‘Really?’ nodding your head in response. “I promise.” Those words meant more to Choso than you'd ever know, it was as though you swore on the thing closest to your heart to him. Placing the sandwich onto the napkin atop your thighs, holding out a childish pinkie and looking at him with soft eyes, ‘Promise.’ you mouthed, Choso raised a hesitant hand, holding out his pinkie as he looked into your eyes.

Interlocking your pinkies as he felt the difference in size, “And I don't like anyone enough to be this nice.” You pulled your pinkie from his, seeing his expression show he wasn't fully convinced on the idea. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you hushed, seeing his eyes peek up and look at you through thick eyelashes. 

Nodding his head earnestly, leaning in a little bit more, “I hate everyone in the world except you right now.” 

The words you meant in a joking way- only saying them to make him lighten up. It wasn't as though they didn't have some truth- right now everyone sucked and he was the only one who cared enough to make things better.

But to him, those words were all but a confession- a confession that all this time he wasn't a crazed stalker who embedded himself in your life. Those words made his doubts of what he was doing disappear almost entirely. 

“You mean that?” he spoke with avoidant eyes and blushing pink cheeks. You exhaled, earning Choso to look back to your eyes, “I do.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .  ₊˚⊹⋆ ⁺   .

After that illuminating morning spent with you, he made sure to be more cautious with what he'd say- how he'd act towards you. But his attempts at caution only made his slip ups more apparent. 

The last week of January passed by in seconds to Choso, having you sitting next to him in the classes you had together made life easier. Classes spent drawing on his pale skin to pass the time, and he'd let you- Choso would try his very best to control the warmth that he was sure made his ears turn a shade of pink. But it's not like he had to hide his shamed blushes from you anymore. 

Little by little your touch became a constant in his life- your soft hands pulling the rings from his calloused ones, fiddling with them in class as the professor spoke. Turning them while they were still on his fingers as his knee bounced nervously. Being able to smell your perfume- even able to feel your nails graze against his skin as you toyed with his jewelry. 

The habit of him walking you home slowly diminished in the first week of February, now walking to his apartment to spend more time together more often than not. Playing kids board games on his apartment floor after he told you that- “I never really played them.” when you asked if he's ever gone through an entire game of monopoly, “I only ever over saw as my brothers played-” he smiled, seeing you look at him bewildered. “Y'know. To make sure no one cheated.” 

To which you responded with ‘borrowing’ the board games from your house, bringing them to his apartment. Seeing it as an opportunity to get to know him better through the childrens games. What he liked most about the time spent playing the games was that you'd leave your phone on his kitchen counter, on do not disturb and faced down. He liked that there wasn't anything to distract you from him.

The topic of exes was brought up hesitantly by you- unsure if you wanted to know about his past in that aspect. 

Sitting on the floor of his apartment, knees crossed as you faced each other, “Any past lovers I should expect on my doorstep?” You hummed casually, placing a green uno card onto the small stack, “Not that I know of. No.” he smiled to himself, “That you know of?” you asked sarcastically, seeing him place a card into the pile with a scoff. 

“No. Don't expect any ‘ex lovers’ at your door-” he called your name almost in a scolding tone. You nodded mockingly, “Any at all?” you examined your cards as you plucked one from your stack. Choso looked at you- unsure of what you were getting at. “No?” 

“No girlfriends- or boyfriends- or partne-” you were interrupted by Choso’s shoulders slumping with furrowed eyebrows. Silencing your question as he placed a card onto the pile, “...Can I ask why?” You chirped, seeing his low eyes look up from the colorful cards and think about it. 

“There was just never time.” he sighed, feeling embarrassed by your curiosity. Making you nod your head in agreement. Choso didn't even want to think about your exes, how many there were or if you loved any of them. He liked picturing you as an untouched, pristine, glass statue- only to be held by him. And thinking that you will only ever love him. 

“Even when you came here?” you pressed, his lips forcing a smile- “Nope.” his response was curt- waiting for you to place a card onto the pile. “Why?” your tone was accusatory- almost as though you were trying to dance around the real reason you were asking these questions. “S’your turn.” he mumbled, looking up from his cards and looking at you, “..What?” you asked confused as to what he was saying.

“It's your turn-” he spoke your name- flashing his eyes down to your cards as you inhaled, understanding what he meant. Picking a random card and placing it onto the stack, Choso looked at your parting lips- daring to keep pressing the question.

Even if he was starting to feel a sliver of irritation- he found it adorable that you were curious about that part of his life. “Choso.” you spoke, earning his eyebrow to arch before he responded with your name in the same tone you used. You sighed in defeat, making him tilt his head to the side. Thinking very hard as he skimmed through the distant memories of anyone he had a crush on growing up. 

“Uh- there was my neighbor in the second grade- then in the fourth grade there was this girl who I used to chase around the playground- and then in middle school I started exploring the world of people I could like- then in my freshman year I got my first-” he babbled, oversharing the meaningless information that you asked for with a sarcastic tone, trying to prove a point. “Okay-okay. I get it.” you interrupted with a laugh “I don't see the point in talking about the past when it does nothing for us.” he spoke as he arranged the cards in his hands. 

‘Us- I’m already calling me nd you,‘us’ he thought as you spoke “It helps me get to know you.” You defended, “You ever have a question- ask me it directly, please.” he smiled, “Don't dance around it-” 

“Have you ever loved anyone?” you interrupted, Choso looked at you with tender eyes. “Like- love, love?” you clarified, only your question didn't need any clarification, Choso knew what you were talking about. 

He nodded his head no, “No I haven't.” he admitted, looking down to his cards before picking one and placing it in the growing pile. “Have you ever loved anyone?” he repeated your question, for once, you were left scrambling for words. “N-no.” You admitted almost in defense, “There were times I thought I was in love.” you started, mentally Choso was cursing whatever person you loved before him. 

“But I was just a kid. So no, I've never loved anyone.” you finished, placing a card on the useless pile, and gathering the cards since neither of you were really playing the game anymore.

The salty conversation ended right there, Choso didn't want to hear of your past relationships- and you didn't want to embarrass him further by asking again. But the tension in the air was gone the next time you saw him, bringing up how you were thinking of moving out of your house. 

Choso’s hands picking upa stack of playing cards and shuffling them with his hands, “Why?” he asked, scanning your irritated expression as you thought about the roommates waiting for you. “People just- suck.” you smiled, seeing his hands carefully put away the  cards in the torn up box. Standing up and walking towards the kitchen counter, eyeing your phone as his back faced you.

Knowing you wouldn't be able to see if he took a peek- just one peek. 

Pretending to keep idle hands as he feigned looking at the game boards, “Your roommates again?” he asked as his hand inched towards your phone. Hearing you let out an exaggerated sigh, “Yes, they've been extra annoying recently.” you closed your eyes, waiting for him to come back with a new game. 

Choso gulped, his fingers flipping the side of your phone quietly, “Why's that?” he mindlessly replied as your phone screen light up. Seeing you kept the family picture of him and his brothers as your background, “They've been nagging and nagging about how I don't do my ‘chores’-” you complained, “I'm not even there as much anymore.” you continued.

Choso’s eyes scanned the growing list of notifications- squinting his eyes as he saw a text from a contact named ‘asshole’. You sighed, defeated by the growing list of issues awaiting you at that house. “And I'm broke.” You closed your eyes, leaning on your palms as you leaned your head back. “Broke huh?” he muttered, scrolling as he smiled at your claim. 

“Yup. No more sugar daddy money left- which is unfortunate.” You whispered to yourself. Choso heard it- but to protect his peace and not pick a fight over your choice of words. He ignored that little comment.

“Scrabble?” he mindlessly asked, “Nah s’too much thinking for me right now.” 

‘See you later today’ the message read with a heart, Choso couldn't help but think that you were being lured into something from that message, “How about-” he trailed on, placing your phone back onto the counter quietly as you sighed, “Connect 4?” he picked up the battered box and heard an agreeing ‘okay’ from your lips.

Walking back to the dedicated ‘board game’ spot at the center of his apartment, sitting down and placing the box between you. “Y'know- I looked at these apartments before I chose to live in that house.” you smiled as he slid the lid off the box, Choso’s face fell- thinking of how cruel the world was for taking away the opportunity of having you as a neighbor.

“You didn't like it here?” he joked, making you let out a small chortle as he set up the blue plastic. “I just didn’t wanna be alone.” you admitted, seeing Choso hold up his hands- a red chip in one and a yellow chip in the other, taking the red chip from his hand before he pushed your chips to your side of the grid.

“And you're thinking of moving into a unit?” he scoffed almost sarcastically, waiting for you to decide where to put your first chip. “I mean- even if they're constantly freezing. I just might.” you admitted honestly, seeing Choso’s fingers hover above the slot. Staring at you as he pictured you being his neighbor. 

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, “You don't like that idea?” you scoffed, seeing him nod his head ‘no’ before dropping a yellow chip into one of the slots, “You're probably thinking, ‘gee why not just move into my apartment while you're at it.” You giggled, dropping a red chip into the grid without thinking too hard, Choso titled his head- almost as though that's exactly what he was thinking.

“M’kidding. Choso.” You clarified, making him exhale at how flustered he was starting to feel. “It wouldn't be any different than it is now though-” you smiled, seeing his shaky hand drop a chip into the game- almost purposefully avoiding the ones you previously dropped, “I'm already here everyday.” you scoffed, unknowing your words were only making Choso’s ears burn below his hair.

“S-speaking of-” he found an opening of asking you the question that had been heavy in his mind ever since you brought it up, “I was thinking about- uh-” he struggled to find the words, “The uh….date?” he stuttered, blinking his eyes down to his chips and back at you. 

“You remember that?” you smiled, if he was being honest- the words hit him like a ton of bricks aimed directly to his heart. “...You don't?” he asked- pained and saddened. “Of course I do- I just,” you grimaced, “Didn't expect you to remember.” you admitted, “Y’know, since you were dying of bubonic plague.” you joked as you dropped a red chip into the game. 

“It was a small cold-” he defended, “And I do remember.” he continued, scanning your lax expression as he tried stepping through the seemingly difficult conversation.

“I wasn't gonna hold it against you-” you smiled, “You were feverish and on the brink of death-” you bantered, “I was not.” he defended himself, “You wanna take me out on a date Choso?” you asked teasingly- already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him again. 

“Will you let me?” he blushed, you looked at him surprised by his quick quip. With a smug smile, you were thinking things that should not be thought of at that moment.

-

pt 11 here

IM SOOOO SORRY FOR TAKING SOO LONG, PT 11 WILL BE POSTED ON VALENTINES DAY..... HEHEHEHE... (when can I start writing about the intimate things ;-;)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

[artificialbreezy]

okay i was in the middle of working on a smutty Matt blurb but i saw this post and i feel like its my duty to talk about it okay? cool. here we go.

this is the era that would shotgun smoke into your mouth. i’ll take no arguments.

kinda (really just weed) NSFW under the cut ◡̈

okay now let’s get into it.

MAYBE it started out friendly, right? just a casual hang out at his house. nothing you weren’t used to at this point. you don’t really smoke, never tried it. they never judged you for it, always offered if you ever did wanna try, they’d take it so easy on you and would never rush/push you into more than what you were comfortable with. so ya know what, this is the time. you’re gonna smoke weed today! so when you get there and everyone’s outside surrounded by a fire you’re extra comfortable. it’s warm, there’s no reason to be nervous, all your friends are right there, Noah is RIGHT there. he always has your back. as the night goes on and more people are working their way inside to play some drinking games, you and Noah are left outside with a half smoked blunt and a weak fire going. you’d take a deep breath, Noah immediately catching onto your nerves. “hey, what’s wrong honey?” Noah always got a lil more affectionate when he was high. you weren’t complaining though. you’d shake your head and tell him nothing. he’d cock his eyebrow, 100% not believing what you said. so you’d just quick talk it out. “iwannasmokeweedbutimalittlenervous” and you’d take another breath and stare at the fire. all to hear his sweet chuckle, “there’s this thing that we could do, where you don’t have to take a hit off the blunt. i could take the hit, give it to you and see how you feel.” and you’re more confused now, what is talking about? how can you get high by not smoking it? he’d see the confusion on your face, “you trust me, yeah?” and you’d nod.

he’d pull you into his lap, and you’re already beet red. nervous, shy, hoping to all fucks that he can’t feel how fast your heart is beating. “open your mouth a little bit.” he’d relight the blunt, take a rather big hit, grab your jaw and pull you close. close enough that his lips were on yours and blow the smoke into your lungs. he’d pull away a little, hand still holding your jaw. “fuck it.” he’d mumble, before he pulled you back into his lips. “gotta have another taste, you understand right?” he’d say between kisses.

your kiss was interrupted when the slider opened and Jesse stood there wide eyed, immediately turning back into the house yelling, “YOU GUYS OWE ME 20 BUCKS. THEY’RE OUT HERE SUCKING FACE!!” Noah would just shake his head, rub his thumb against your cheek, press a soft kiss to your mouth. “go upstairs, i’ll meet you in my bed in 10 minutes okay? we got some things to talk about.”

[mrssugarpink]

PLEASE do an Uvogin fanfic, I love uvo so much and there’s so little fics written about him 😭

Minors DNI

Reader and Uvo are dating/engaged, not really relevant 

This is WAY longer than I  intended it to be so yay, a treat for my first request I suppose. 

I love how much you can play around with Uvos' character but we all agree he's a little rough, and loves big girls with fat pussies. 

Warnings: Oral F! receiving, fingering F! receiving, pussy slapping, marking, possessive behavior and a surprise

With the constant snacking, drinking and semi frequent smoking, it wasn't long before you discovered Uvo had an oral fixation. He doesn't smoke that much anymore, as per your request, but that tends to be the case, they usually just need something in their mouths. 

Biting the strings of his hoodies, his nails, and cutlery, it was cute and he never seemed to notice. You could watch this little habit of his all day and he’d be none the wiser. Even picking up what fills his fix the most. He liked toothpicks more than straws, even though he’s not allowed to use your metal straws anymore, but wooden chopsticks were his favorite. So you made sure you had them all in stock. 

And honestly you never meant to embarrass him, it was just a cute thing you noticed him doing and it didn't bother you really, despite the broken straws (he can’t help it and you know that) 

So when your relationship progressed to the current stage of intimacy you realistically should have seen this coming.

It started with a kiss to your hand, then several, as he kissed each finger tip he ended at your thumb and slipped it into his mouth. Honestly it was so quick you barely had time to register it. Only registering the warmth. It wasn't until you picked up the solidness of his tooth that you jumped, alarmed and about to pull your finger away. Then his hand, much bigger than yours (everything but his is bigger than you) wrapped around it,warm and strong, to keep it there. 

Suddenly there were no more words. Your lips moving but no sound able to escape. Brown eyes glinting up at you, looking as playful as a foxes, his mouth full of you, pausing his sucking to ask, “What? You scared?” 

Gathering the your bearings you matched his attempt as seduction “No, but you should know better than to out just anything in your mouth” 

And with that your fate was sealed. 

On your back in his spacious bed, legs spread and trembling with your panties wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet, a spoil of war, he called it. He sucked and licked at your folds like he’d never eat another meal, drink another sip or another cigarette again. 

Holding you by the hips when you jerked, forcing your legs open more so he can get closer to his prize, you can’t even remember the last time he came up to breathe. 

One hand wrapped around your breast squeezing in tandem with the timed sucks on your clit. The slurps and overall wet sounds proved just how soaked you were, how drenched he had you. 

He finally pulled back and you thought you’d earned yourself a break, only for him to spit harshly over you. It traveled down your cheeks until the unfamiliar sensation caused you to whine, while he seamlessly wiped it up and pressed it into your already sopping hole. 

“You’re not done” he demanded ass he finger fucked you “Not at all babe, you either have to squirt or cream on my finger, then you get a break” A groan of frustration escaped you which turned into a shreking moan as he slapped down on your hot pussy, making the juices fly out past his palm and some up onto your stomach. 

“Come on, you can do it” he encouraged “With how wet these panties are I think you’ll cream. Whaddya say? Show me sweetheart” he slipped in another finger after slapping you 2 more times laughing as you clenched down with each slap. 

“Tight as shit, fuck, baby. You scared I'll stop if it slips out?” You could hear the laugh bubbling up in his chest waiting for your reaction. Tears of pleasure gathered in your eyes as you looked at him pleading. As your mouth opened the spit connecting your lips that were bitten and brighter than before with all the blood flow, added to the utterly debauched look. He took the hand that he used to slap your pussy and slipped 2 fingers into your mouth, replacing it with his own mouth on your quivering heat. 

The feeling of his mouth back on you sucking your clit and stopping to lick around and loudly slurp. Along with his fingers pumping, almost fucking you up the bed if his his body weight  wasn’t keeping you in place. You’d never felt more wet in your life, crying some more at how embarrassing  this was. With a few more pumps you were coming and his slide became even more slick, if that was even possible. His mouth detached from your heat as he heard the gagged moans you let out around his fingers rise in pitch. Staring down, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and slick, shimmering mouth drawn back in a triumphant smile “Fuck yes, that’s it, let it out” At this point both his hands were fucking you, your mouth and your pussy and the hand in the latter only got rougher, fucking you through this orgasm 

“That's right, such a good girl, doing exactly like I asked. Best pussy I’ll ever have, fuck its so cute” Youre so wet you cant even feel it anymore but his filthy babbling is helping you through it. When you’ve finally calmed down, Uvo removed his fingers, they’re covered in white, nothing like you've ever seen before. He holds them over your body, fingertips pointing towards your stomach as he lets it drip off and smears it across your plush stomach. “U-V-O-G-I-N” he spells aloud. Then he spanks your ass with a laugh. “Big girls usually cream, a lot too, I knew it the moment I saw you” Some of the letters meet the dark stretch marks that reach up to the general placement of your belly button and in that moment, no matter how disgusting it was you’d never felt more at peace, owned, loved, slutty, cared for. And you’d found something you could both do to state his fixation.

As you came down you realized you were still suckling on his fingers, you’d sucked even harder when you came. He’d never remove them from your mouth. 

Guess you had one too.

[kdogreads]

Richie Jerimovich NSFW Alphabet

Co-written with the incredible @foreveraimingtowardsthesky

Thank you so much for collabing on this, my friend! It’s been a longtime coming but here we are 🤪😍

Enjoy this look into our wildest delulu fantasies with our bb Richie. This was a 50/50 project and still took us forever so please APPRECIATE IT 😂❤️

A — Aftercare

There is nothing Richie loves more than smoking a cigarette with you in his arms after he blows your mind. He’s trained to read people and you are no exception. He’ll help you clean up then he’ll cuddle you, or kiss you silly, or light you a joint, or brush your hair for you. Whatever you need this time, he’s on it.

B – Body part (favourite of yours and theirs)

Richie likes - no loves - your mouth. The way your lips close around a cigarette plucked from his hand, the wet heat of it when his fingers press against your tongue, how you open up so readily for him when you’re on your knees, the sharp indent of your teeth in your lower lip when you’re trying to be quiet.. Yeah, he could lose hours dreaming of your mouth, thinking of new ways he can make it his. Spit in it. Gag it. Have you clean him up with your tongue..

C — Cum

Richie can be nasty. He wants to cum on your face, your chest, your ass, literally anywhere he can. It’s his way to mark you as his without leaving hickies or anything, ever the practical thinker. His favorite by far, though, if you’ll let him, is to cum inside you. Chef’s kiss.

D – Dirty secret

Richie has fucked, or tried to fuck, too many short-lived staff at The Beef to mention. But that’s no secret. In fact, there’s really only one thing he hopes never gets out. Luckily for him, she feels the same way. Chalk it up to the effects of grief and alcohol, explain it away however you like, but if word got round? I don’t think her little brother would ever get over it.

E — Experience

Honestly, Richie doesn’t have a ton of experience with different partners, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t treat you R I G H T. He’s only had a couple relationships besides you and Tiff and maybe he brought home a girl from the bar once or twice before you. This man is a very, very fast learner, though. It doesn’t take him long to learn every little thing that drives you wild and he’s more than willing to experiment with what you like (always with permission first).

F – Favourite position

Richie wants to see. He wants to see his cock sinking into you. He wants to see your face when you come. He wants to see the rise and fall of your chest and he wants to see his hands on your body. Richie also wants to bend you over and fuck you from behind. He likes how it makes you whine when he pulls your hips back as he fucks into you.

So he fucks you on your knees in front of the mirror on his bedroom wall, drags his fingers through your gathered slick and rubs the mess across your tight little asshole, his thumb circling and circling and circling before pushing inside. Like this he can watch as he fills you up, and see your fucked-out face as you fall apart.

G — Goofy

Our Richie is a big goofball in every aspect of his life and sex is no exception. He loves being able to laugh with you and tease you while he’s inside you or eating you out. One day he gets it in is mind that you have to call him Mr. Jerimovich as like a demeaning/authoritative thing, but when you actually call him that, he cracks up laughing. Cannot keep a straight face for the life of him. “It sounds like you’re talkin’ to my fuckin’ granddad. Too fuckin’ weird for me, baby, m’sorry.”

If he’s had a rough day, though, and needs to take it out on you, it’s all serious. No jokes, no laughing, no teasing. He just takes when he needs from you — and of course makes sure you have a good time, too.

H – Hair

How well groomed is Richie? Richie is a low-maintenance, one-bottle-in-the-shower guy. He keeps his hair and his beard short, that’s his look. Once upon a time, he got clippers and a beard trimmer for Christmas, so he does this himself, and every so often the rest of him will get the trimmer treatment. He’s not super hairy but he likes how his dick looks bigger after. He’s only human, after all.

He’s clean, but not meticulous. He doesn’t mind things getting a bit.. dirty. And if you’re honest with yourself, you sometimes like him best at the end of a long day. A little sweaty, a little rough around the edges, his skin tasting like salt and cigarette smoke.

I — Intimacy

Richie the cuddle master, am I right? He loves physical affection and just being close to you. If you’re having a slow, sweet love session, he’ll hold your face and tell you the stickiest sweet things you’ve ever heard in your life. “You were made for me, baby. I was made f’you” and “You’re so beautiful, sometimes I can’t believe you’re mine” and “I love you so much my heart fuckin’ hurts.” Loves eye contact, loves holding your hands, loves loving you basically.

Talks you through it. Big time. He’s in his daddy era and he’s desperate for his baby to cum. 🥵

J – Jerk off

In a word. Yes. In the shower most mornings. It’s a Pavlovian response now. Routine. The hot shower spray. The steam. His hand wrapped round his cock.

But he’s seen the way your breath catches. When he’s knelt between your spread legs. When he drags it out just a little longer, his fist working over his cock as though he prefers it to your pretty pussy. How your eyes follow the movement of his hand as he makes you wait, how your tongue darts out against the softness of your lips..

Until finally - - You like watchin, huh? Your face had heated under his scrutiny, but you couldn’t deny it. And since then? Pictures. Videos. Whenever you’re apart for while and sometimes even when you’re not. His hand sliding over his hard dick, slow at first, then faster. You can hear his breathing, all the bitten off sounds he makes - - fuck. Sometimes it’s a piece of your underwear that he’s ruined, the sheets, his shirt. Sometimes come splashes hot against his tense belly. It’s insanely hot. It makes you ache for him. And he knows it.

K — Kinks

This man will shock you with just how freaky he can get. Choking, gun play, knife play, slapping, daddy/sir, tying you up/getting tied up, he’s into it all. Something you’ve always wanted to try? He’s down. It doesn’t always have to be super kinky stuff, though. Sometimes he’s in the mood to make love to you and, when he is, he’s the stickiest sweet lover you’ve ever had.

Once he discovers the the free use concept, it’s his favorite. “Don’t let me stop ya, baby. You keep workin’ on that,” while he proceeds to fuck you into a different universe. 🥵

L – Location

Anywhere. At the restaurant when everyone else has gone home (that reservations desk is his in more ways than anyone else knows). In his car, where there’s just enough room for you to straddle his lap in the driver’s seat. Up against the wall in some dark corner when he just can’t wait. On the couch, forgotten movie in the background. The kitchen counter in the middle of a lazy weekend breakfast. In the shower, the pretty noises you make bouncing off the tiles. In your bed. In his bed.

That’s probably his favourite. His bed. When you’re waiting for him at the end of a long day in his bed. Wearing his shirt. Your perfume on his pillows.

M — Motivation

YOU. Richie is such a romantic at heart and, if you’re his, he wants nothing more than to make you happy any way he can. He loves to hear you whine and moan for him or squirm under his touch. Part of him selfishly loves knowing he can make you feel better than anyone else ever has. He loves making you forget all your worries with his fingers or his mouth or his cock. He gets off just by knowing how satisfied he can make you.

N – No

It’s a short list, but anything you’re not into is at the top of it. You can also add to that anything too elaborate. Role play’s fine just nothing too fuckin weird alright.And he doesn’t need a red room of sex shit, doesn’t need whips and chains when his tie looks so pretty around your wrists, when his belt drags so nicely against your skin.

O — Oral

You mean Richie “could eat pussy for three meals a day” Jerimovich?? He LOVES oral. As much as he loves feeling your lips wrapped around him, he loves feeling you squirm under his tongue even more. He’ll have you pinned down with his arms begging him for a break at any chance he gets. Giving is his favorite, but he loves receiving, too.

He loves when you give him road head. Loves it. Only when it's late at night and you're alone on the back roads, though. He knows just what you're thinking when you reach a hand over coyly and scratch your nails along his thigh. A silly grin spreads across his face and he gives you a subtle nod to encourage you. By the end he's usually pulled over somewhere with both hands in your hair and a plan in place for when you get home...

P – Pace

He can go slow. If that’s what you need. He likes how he can feel everything when he takes his time, but it wears away at his self control and he didn’t have much to begin with. You like to ride him, achingly slowly, stretching his restraint as far as it’ll go before it snaps, before he grips your hips and fucks up into you, or until he flips you over and fucks you through the bed.

Q — Quickie

Are you kidding me? Richie loves quickies. Possibly his favorite thing in the world. Just finished dinner service? He’ll fuck you in the alleyway. Popped in to say hi while you’re running errands? He’ll bend you over Carmy’s desk. Even just going about your day at home he’ll come up behind you in the kitchen and pull you up onto the counter. Any chance he has to get you off he’ll take.

R – Risk

Is Richie a risk taker? Yeah. He gets a kick out of the possibility that the two of you might get caught. Actually no, he gets a kick out of you getting so fucking greedy and needy for him that you’ll let him touch you, let him fuck you, where anyone might see. His hand between your legs under the restaurant table, his mouth on your breasts in the cool evening air, your back against the wall and legs round his waist, your body pressed to the high rise window of the nicest hotel room he could afford. It fuels his possessiveness. You’re his and he wants everyone to know it.

S — Stamina

Richie isn’t as young as he used to be, but he uses what energy he has wisely. In his younger days he could go at it for hours, but nowadays his poor achey back can’t take more than one, maybe two rounds. He gets you off more times than you can count before he even thinks about fucking you, so don’t let his old age scare you.

Just because his body gets tired faster doesn't mean his sex drive has gone down, though, so don't you worry about that.

T – Toys

The first time Richie caught you with your favourite toy, he’d watched from the doorway with a dangerous mix of jealousy and want. You’d pulled the toy from your body when you saw him, but he’d shook his head and something in the look in his eyes made your mouth go dry and your stuttered explanation die in your throat. – - Don’t stop. He’d climbed onto the bed, sat back against the headboard and pulled you to his chest between his spread legs. - - keep going.. s’it feel good? .. feel better than me, huh? - - you’d said no, but he’d slapped your hand from the toy anyway, taking it from you and mimicking the movements he’d watched earlier, but harder, faster, more him. And he’d liked the way you’d surrendered control so easily, the way your head fell back against his shoulder, how your fingers twisted into the fabric of his sweats. And it occurred to him that he could keep this up for hours..

U — Unfair

Richie is a little shit… of course he loves teasing you. He’ll send you dirty texts all day while you’re at work and get you all hot and bothered. Then he’ll edge you for what feels like hours if he feels like it. He always leaves you satisfied after his fun, though, he is a gentleman after all.

When he first discovered what his "harmless" teasing does to you... Oh man. It's like he can't stop now. He'll pull you into the office at work just to whisper dirty things in your ear.

"You look real pretty tonight baby," He leans in to kiss your neck, hands wandering all over your body, "Fuuuck, you want daddy to take care of you, hm? Touch you? Make you scream so everybody knows who you belong to, yeah?" Swoon.

V – Volume

Richie has the dirtiest mouth in all of Chicago. He remembers the first time he’d called you his good fuckin girl. He remembers because you came hard and tight and wet before the words had barely left his mouth. Now he won’t fucking shut up. And you love it like that. But the best thing? There’s this noise he makes when he’s close to losing it. A filthy low groan as everything begins to unravel. It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

W — Wildcard

Richie definitely has a thing for public sex. The thrill of potentially getting caught, having to show off his pretty baby to whoever catches you… He can’t help it if he wants to show you off and make it clear just who belong to.

X – x-ray

What’s going on in those tighty whiteys? He’s not gotten any complaints. Well, no, that’s not quite right. He’s gotten loads of complaints. Just not about his dick. If he was the type of guy to be heading down the gym (although lets face it, he isn’t ) he wouldn’t need to be shy in the locker room, if you catch my meaning. Alright, alright.. it’s big. You happy now?

Y — Yearning

He may be in his 40s but his sex drive is stronger than ever. He always wants you. Richie is just insatiable sometimes. It’s like he can’t believe you are his to take care of and please whenever he wants to and he does.

Z – zzzz

He’s not even stayed awake long enough for you to read the end of this. Sorry. But let’s be fair, he’s a hard working guy and he’s had his fair share of sleepless nights. So you can’t begrudge the fact that he sleeps like an angel (an angel splayed across 75% of the bed, but still..) once you’ve both had your fill. Now roll him over before he starts snoring.

[aangelicest]

Thinking about Big!Bro Suguru who started off just smoking cigarettes to take the edge off after he'd ingest curses. But it wasn't enough. And he found himself indulging in weed just to calm himself down. And his little sister who's never touched a cigarette or drugs in her life, being pressured into trying.

Content Warnings: Inc♡st, Peer pressuring, Dr♡g usage, Dubc♡n? (They don't don't anything really but it does insinuate that he will go further & they are both high), Non-explicit, Suggestive, Little Sister! Reader, Pet names (baby, princess), Short Rambles, Can you tell I've never done a drug in my life? I don't know what I'm doing, I see plug!suguru content all the time and I can't get him smoking out of my head

MDNI + Anti's please block and move on♡

Big!Bro Suguru who speaks to you in his soft, soothing voice. "C'mon, it'll be fun, yeah? Let me teach you." He murmurs before he blows smoke from the blunt on his hand into your face gently. He gives a sly little smile followed by a low chuckle as you cough at the smoke. It's cute, the way your nose scrunches up at the smell

Big!Bro Suguru who watches as you hesitate, but don't look very willing to try. "C'mon, you know you can do it. I just wanna- I just wanna show you, just trust me and try."

Big!Bro Suguru who raises his hand, cupping your chin when you look at him, his fingers just lightly touching your smooth skin. He then blows the smoke in your face again, the sight of your eyes fluttering as you try to blink the smoke away was too cute.

Big!Bro Suguru who pulls you closer when you attempt to take the blunt but not knowing exactly how to hold it properly. "Open wide- yeah, that's it…" He murmurs, his voice low as he holds the blunt to your lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who brings his hand back up to your chin, turning your head gently in his grip, forcing you to look at him. His thumb lightly rubs over your lip to try and soothe you with his loving touch. "Do that again, baby, yeah? This time, don't pull away, alright? Just breathe- just breathe. That's it princess…" He coos.

Big!Bro Suguru who whispers praises in your ear after every hit. "There you go. Good girl, you're doing so good for me, such a good little baby." while he pulls you onto his lap.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help but stare at his sweet, precious, perfect little sister… so vulnerable and so cute. He's never seen you this loopy or this out of her mind… and all it took was a little bit of weed. He just gently brought his hand up, tucking your hair just behind your ear, fingers trailing down your waist.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help himself, watching as you grow more pliant in his lap, mind all fuzzy from your first time. "Hey… how about we do something to make you feel even better, yeah?" He'd murmur, his thumb pressing against your soft lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who uses the lightest amount of pressure to slip his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he takes a hit, blowing it gently against your face with a low hum. Every soft whine that leaves your lips makes him feel bolder.

Big!Bro Suguru who keeps playing with your tongue as his other hand starts to slowly move under your shirt. Rubbing your hip, thumb sliding against your tongue more. "You're doing so good for me, baby. Just keep feeling good, I got you. I always have you."

Big!Bro Suguru whose eyes darken when he takes another hit, blowing it directly in your mouth as he leans in. "Does it feel good baby? Hm?" The way your eyes look so cute, all glossy and glazed over as you take another hit makes him grunt, unable to stop his hands from sliding down your hips and finding its way between your thighs.

Big!Bro Suguru who's glad your parents are out late tonight, because he has something better to replace his thumb with.

[mlmxreader]

Unexpected Guest | Tomas Vrbada x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request one from Smoke with the prompts 7 and 16?? ❞

: ̗̀➛ it feels like you and your boyfriend never get any actual time together

: ̗̀➛ swearing

•─────────────────★•♛•★────────────────•

Tomas rarely got the chance to see you; between working to establish a new clan with his brother and attempting to juggle Johnny Cage and Kenshi and everyone else along with it, he rarely got the chance to actually be your partner and to be present.

He didn't mean to let you down so often, but it was difficult; of course, you understood more than anyone and you encouraged him to let you down if it meant that he could be there for his brother, especially.

You knew that the betrayal of Bi-Han still weighed heavily on his shoulders, you couldn't blame him. But things did get a little easier for you both when, after some pretty awful personal circumstances, you ended up moving in with Johnny Cage.

You were glad of it, really, and even agreed to work on Johnny's social media accounts when he asked you; you never expected him to be so generous, giving you a roof over your head, paying you a more than healthy wage for your time - even on days you didn't work, he still paid you - and letting you keep all your money.

No rent, no bills, no food and drinks to buy; you didn't have to worry about anything except Tomas.

You missed him, in all honesty, when he wasn't around. When he didn't call and text, you always wondered if you would get a call from Kuai Liang to say that something terrible had happened.

Yet tonight, as you sat on your bed with your earphones in, listening to 'The First Soldier' by Sabaton, you had an odd feeling; your window was wide open, big enough for Johnny to get through - as he had done before when he had forgotten his keys - and the rain had only just stopped.

You were all alone in the mansion, with Johnny out on a recent press tour for his latest film, and you couldn't sleep for some reason. Something deep inside your stomach had told you to stay awake, although you couldn't say why exactly. You figured it was probably just nerves at being left in charge of the entire property on your own.

But when you heard a scuffle, and what sounded like a grunt from your window, you froze; your shoulders became tense as you grabbed your phone and pulled up Kenshi's number. Your thumb trembling as you held it over the call button.

But then you caught a glimpse of silver hair as the sneaky phantom pulled itself through your window, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. Tossing your phone aside, you were quick to put your earphones away as you watched Tomas haul himself onto the bedroom floor with a firm thud.

He smiled when he stood, dusting himself off.

"I wasn't sure if the door was locked," he explained, his features all a dull pink, "and I wanted to surprise you." 

You couldn't help but to laugh softly, moving over on the bed slightly to make room for him; keeping your gaze on his frame as he kicked his shoes off and unzipped his hoodie, closing the window before he practically launched himself on the bed beside you and grabbed your laptop. Big grey eyes staring at you for a moment as he cleared his throat.

"Sorry if I scared you."

"You didn't," you reassured gently, leaning into his side and wrapping your arm around his tightly, your head on his shoulder. "You wanna stay the night?"

Tomas nodded, opening the laptop and shoving it onto your thighs. "If you'll let me?"

"Tomas…" you grumbled, grinning at him for a moment before shaking your head so fondly. "Of course I'll let you - it’s just an excuse for me to have an opportunity to show my feelings.”

Tomas was about to open his mouth and ask what you meant, when you moved the laptop aside and straddled his waist; he smiled as he chewed at the inside of his lip, the weight of your hands on his shoulders all too familiarly heavy as he let out a quiet sigh.

His hands settled on the sides of your thighs as he leaned into you slightly, hoping that you were thinking the same things that he was; his heart pounding in his chest.

Every kiss always felt like the first one, every date always felt like the first, and every time he stayed the night, he could have sworn that he had never done it before - but maybe that was more because of the frequent distance and the lack of contact.

The second that you leaned down slightly to kiss him, Tomas couldn’t bite back his grin as he eagerly kissed you back, groaning softly when your hand found its way to his hair, gripping the soft grey strands tightly to keep him close.

He almost didn’t want to pull away, but his chest began to feel hollow and tight, and he knew that he needed to take a breath; guilt washed over him when he broke the kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” you said softly, gently tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Tomas.”

Tomas smiled, leaning into your touch when you gently rested your hand against his cheek, just shy of closing his eyes as he swallowed thickly. “I missed you, too… maybe one day, we’ll have time.”

“Time has never been on our side,” you told him quietly, shaking your head. “You know that.”

“But,” gently, he held your wrists, pinning your hands to his chest just above his heart. “We make it through, don’t we?”

“I suppose…”

“Just remember it’s for love,” Tomas gently pleaded. “Just… please, don’t give up on us.”

“Give up?” You scoffed, daring to laugh for a moment. “I’d never give up on us - you’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming and clawing at the floors and…”

“And?”

“I’m pretty sure you’d also have to deal with Johnny,” you joked. “He’s been rooting for us since day one.”

“So has Kuai Liang,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “So, what film did you have in mind?”

[rotworld]

1: Growing Shadows

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

on your homeworld of decretum, the nights are growing inexplicably longer. an imperial scholar arrives to investigate and comes to the conclusion that you know more than you're letting on.

warhammer 40k; original mandrake character/reader. explicit; contains dubcon (coercive/transactional), graphic depictions of violence and gore, murder, gangbang, non-human genitalia, non-consensual exhibitionism, ambiguous fate for the reader.

Theron is waiting for you in the Emerald Markets. He pretends he isn't. Pretends, like always, that it's just a happy coincidence your paths have crossed again, slinking out from the shadows of a stone arch. 

“Shall we walk together?” he asks, as if he isn’t already following you. 

It’s easy to be charmed because he is effortlessly charming in his sleek black coat with a stiff collar and silken cravat, smiling, clean-shaven, short hair parted down the middle to frame his handsome features. He speaks the sharp, precisely enunciated Gothic they teach at academies in the heart of the Imperium but he’s far friendlier than the usual Administratum census-taker or bureaucrat who occasionally visits. His interest in you is obvious, wandering gazes and lingering touches that make you wish he wasn’t spending all of his time holed up in the library. 

He looks at you knowingly, a sly glance out of the corner of his eye when he catches you staring. You feel his hand settle lightly on your lower back. 

“It was a lovely day while it lasted,” he says, looking up at the sky in dismay. “Does it really not bother you? All this dark? A mere four hours of sunlight hardly seems conducive to one’s emotional wellbeing.”

You shrug. “I think we’re all just used to it. The sun is nice but so is the moon. And it’s really not all that dark.”

“No,” he says with a laugh. “Not here, anyway.”

Walking the crowded streets of the market is like plunging into an open kaleidoscope, all color and crystal. There is food, of course, smoked meats and fresh fruits, spices overflowing from burlap sacks. There are hand-woven baskets and ceramics arranged on tiered shelves, tassel-edged tapestries and embroidered scarves, but more than anything, there are lanterns. If an artisan has dared to dream of it, it can be found here: round and angular, pyramidal and teardrop-elongated, simple four-sided boxes and dizzying geometric masterpieces with dozens of glittering faces. Decorative brass frames cradle panes of painted glass, tendriled metal latticework slicing the light into patterns as intricate as lace. Everywhere you look, they stain the night with spills of finely dappled watercolor, the dark rainbows of an oil slick. 

“They really are something,” Theron marvels. “Did you know that Decretum’s lanterns are famous throughout the Imperium? My mentor has one in his office. Just a small one. Six-sided, with a rounded dome on top. Beautiful, but truly awful if you’re trying to read. I think it makes even more shadows than it chases away.”

You did know that. They’re your planet’s most profitable export. Nobles, governors, and wealthy socialites will pay a premium to get their hands on one. “You’re not really meant to use them for reading,” you tell him. “They soften the light, make it gentler. Much easier on the eyes.”

“A light that’s not meant to be bright,” he muses. “Curious.”

Movement catches your eye at the mouth of the alley. Three children huddle around a small orange lantern, giggling as they dart back and forth in front of the spotted light washing over the wall. They take turns holding their hands out, casting lopsided shapes with their splayed fingers and curling thumbs. A little boy holds up his fist, his other hand making a ‘V’ with two fingers that he wiggles back and forth. A girl, slightly older, presses her hands together, one splayed, the other limp. On the wall, the shadows of their outstretched hands look like the silhouettes of Decretum's wildlife; a snail and a spined, gaping lizard.

Theron slows his pace, watching the performance unfold. “What are they doing?” he asks. “Shadow puppets?” 

You nod, pausing beside him. “It’s a game. ‘Shadow Eater.’ We all played it as kids.” 

The girl curls her index fingers, making the lizard’s mouth gnash open and shut. She lunges forward, eclipsing the snail, and the boy makes a dramatic death wail, half-scream, half-gargle, leaping out of the lantern’s light. A different boy steps forward, this one far more ambitious with his movements. One hand first, downturned, index finger pointing—a branch. His other hand shapes a perching bird, a glaring eye formed in the space between an arching index and middle finger. “Ah, I see,” Theron says. “You have to keep thinking of something that can eat the last animal.” You think he’ll keep walking but he stays, hands in his pockets and head tilted, his curiosity unsated. The shadow bird suddenly takes flight, the branch vanishing as the boy loops this thumbs together to form a beak, both hands flapping. It descends on the lizard, mantles it with its jagged wings. The girl lets out a warbling death cry that makes the others laugh and scurries away.

“I was going through the planetary archives again today,” Theron tells you, keeping his voice low. “Decretum’s nights have grown incrementally longer over thousands of years. The increase, according to my calculations, is negligible. Fractions of a second. Hardly noticeable, until those fractions accrue into more easily measurable amounts. It’s not a normal, natural change. There are no local or astronomical phenomena that correlate with this particular trend, nothing about the atmosphere, the weather patterns or the nearest star. No other planet in the system has been affected the same way. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

The youngest boy returns and makes a fox. One hand shapes the grinning head, two fingertips raised into tiny ears, while the other bends into paws and a curved body. It sneaks forward, ears flicking, and then it pounces. The older boy playing the bird warbles theatrically as he wrenches his hands apart. A frigid wind whistles through the alley and you shudder, rubbing your arms through your long sleeves. Theron adjusts his coat. The children holler excitedly and their game starts to go faster, the girl rushing back to the spotlight to make a larger canine shape. Both hands form a head, a scowling mouth, a protruding ear. Her wolf seizes the fox by the throat with a triumphant howl.

“Stranger still, I’ve noticed a secondary pattern. There are years where the change is larger than normal, the usual fractional increase insufficient to explain just how much longer the night becomes. The difference is quite stark. Whole seconds, sometimes. I don’t know what to make of it. But what truly confounds me is how unbothered you are about this. All of you.” Theron’s gaze shifts subtly as he speaks, watching you from the corner of his eye. Looking, you think, for a particular reaction. 

You look back at him, trying to ignore the sick, anxious feeling in your chest. “We can’t control the sun. We can worry ourselves sick or we can keep living our lives.” You gesture at the children, laughing and shrieking playfully in their dance of predator and prey. “When I was their age, the nights were already long. Milliseconds or seconds, it doesn’t make much of a difference. It’s all we know.”

Theron studies your face in silence for a long, tense moment. There’s a wounded look in his eyes, something almost pleading. Guilt bubbles up in your chest. 

It’s the older boy’s turn again—the last turn, you suspect. Most games end with the animal he makes. He holds one hand sideways, the other rearing atop like antlers. Theron watches wordlessly as the shadow puppets scuffle, clumsily miming a battle of claw and hoof. The wolf howls weakly, silenced with one final stomp. The glow of the lantern flickers briefly and the children cheer. “Shadow eater! Shadow eater!” they cry, dancing in snakeskin dusklight. “He eats us all up!”

“I suppose you’re right,” Theron says finally, his tone lightening somewhat. He starts walking again and you let out the breath you were holding, resuming your ambling pace. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t vent my frustrations on you. I’m accustomed to a bit more urgency when studying the Imperium’s myriad anomalies.” 

“I’m sorry we’re not all more excited, or succumbing to mass panic,” you say, smiling when you manage to pull an amused huff out of him. “We’ve always been like this, I think. They say the earliest settlements on Decretum were plagued by all kinds of misfortune. Not much scares us. Definitely not the dark.”

“Everyone is afraid of the dark. It’s in our nature.” 

You shake your head. “That’s because you think it’s full of monsters.”

“Isn’t it?” Theron asks.

“I don’t think so.” 

You pass more lantern shops. More handicrafts. A livestock seller with scrappy blue chickens clucking in their wooden cages. Another group of children acting out another game of Shadow Eater, a squirrel fleeing the grasp of a screeching raptor. They wave when they see you, the light of their pale blue lantern bathing them in cold, wintry light. 

At the edge of the marketplace, the neat tile path becomes bumpy cobblestone. A waning moon shines weakly through a thick gauze of clouds. The crowd thins as you venture further from the business district to the quiet neighborhood where Theron is staying. The few people you encounter are little more than a shift in the shadows, silhouettes that bow their heads and mutter greetings. A few carry lanterns, dim like dying stars, but many don’t. Theron stumbles sometimes, his toe catching on uneven stones and his gait thrown off by unexpected dips in the path. You’re much steadier. You can’t see very well but you don’t need to. You know the churn of the shadows here, the sounds they make, the thickness of them in your lungs. 

You’ve never told Theron. You know he wouldn’t understand. 

“That was a strange end to the game earlier,” he mentions. “That was a local species of cervid, wasn’t it? Surely they don’t eat wolves.” 

You laugh. “No, there are a few variations. The kids are always making up new ones. Sometimes it’s about which animal is the cleverest. Sometimes it’s about which one is the strongest.” 

There’s someone walking behind you. They’re some distance away, far enough that you’d have trouble spotting them if you turned around, but you can feel them, can feel how the dark shudders around their shape in displeasure. “Fascinating,” Theron says. “And what about the best at concealing things? The best liar, perhaps?” Someone steps into the path ahead. Several someones, their footsteps loud. You hear the creak of leather; the clink of metal. You freeze and Theron stops beside you, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “I didn’t want to do this. I have given you every opportunity to admit the truth and you’ve squandered them all.”

You tear out of his grasp and he lets you. There’s a hiss; a blade unsheathing. Then a crackling, a dull hum, a white hot glare searing your eyes. Theron holds a sword in his hand, the blade coursing with luminescent energy. It would sever your limb and cauterize the wound in the same swift stroke. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, your throat constricting with fear.

“Taking you into custody,” Theron says. Gone is the charm and the warmth and the kindly demeanor, replaced by sharp coldness. The light of his sword is nothing like a Decretum lantern. It is harsh and untempered. The shadows shrink back from it warily. “You weren’t responsive to gentle questioning, so I must resort to something more intensive.” 

“Questioning? For what? What did I do?” 

“Does the name Lyra ring a bell?” He cocks his head at your blank expression, his lips curling into a contemptuous scowl. “No? What about Petros? Asherin? Willem?” 

“Theron, I don’t—”

“Those were my colleagues. Lyra would have told you she was an artist studying Decretum lantern designs. Petros, a student of rural Imperial architecture. Asherin, a governor’s son on vacation. Only Willem openly declared his authority. He was always fond of the heavy-handed approach. Overconfident.” Theron unlatches the first few buttons of his coat, just enough to peel back his lapel and expose something glinting and metallic affixed to the inside. A crest, you realize. A symbol. A long line like a stake with a leering skull in the center—

Your pulse quickens. You didn’t recognize it at first because of the stylization, the curling scroll adornment, the wings atop the skull. That’s a Rosette, symbol of the Inquisition. 

Theron lied to you, too.

“Ah. Now you remember,” he says. “Once, perhaps, you could’ve gotten away with it and escaped without further scrutiny. The Imperium is vast and paperwork is excruciatingly slow. But twice? Four times? This backwater you call a civilization has made Inquisitors disappear, and each time, the planet’s nights grew longer. I know the taint of heresy when I see it.”

He steps forward and you bolt, ducking beneath the clumsy grasp of someone who tried to sneak up behind you. Theron shouts in anger and you hear a gunshot, feel the hiss of something whizzing past you. A roaring bloom of heat and light shakes the ground and steals your breath, sends you careening, rolling, shoving yourself back on your feet. You don’t know if you’re hit, can’t tell if the fire licked the skin off your ankles or shards of shattered stone lodged in your calves with adrenaline numbing everything but the fear.

There are more of them and they move with the coordination of a wolf pack, anticipating your movements and cutting off your escape. Another shot goes wide in the dark, a blink of sizzling dawn that turns burns dancing spots into your vision. Your shadow sprints at your side, stretched tall by lanterns perched on porch steps and warming darkened windows, stretched and contorted with each small explosion. Silhouettes stir behind drawn curtains, watching and waiting. Knowing you will do what must be done. 

You hold out your hands. A simple one to start: all fingers facing up, spread apart. Grass swaying in the wind. The shape is clumsy and jittering as you run but you hope it’ll be enough. “See me,” you whisper desperately. “See me and come to me.” You round a corner, stumble, throw yourself forward on scraped hands and knees. A lantern looms atop a fence post, throwing light across the ground. You see a rabbit, flat and shadow, cast by something that isn’t there. It darts between your feet, too precise and perfect to have been formed by hands. “See me,” you say. “See—”

Another shot, loud like thunder, and this time you know you’re hit. You’re warm. Burning. Your shoulder throbs. Slickness dribbles down your back, following the curve of your spine. The pain is distant but it’s gaining on you, an ache sprouting sharper edges. Theron is careful. He keeps his aim low, non-lethal but easily maiming. One wrong move and you’ll lose your legs. 

Your hand shakes when you hold it up, thumb tucked in, index and little fingers bent at the knuckles. You use your arm, the bulky material of your sleeve to make the body. A cat, ears perked, tail wiggling playfully. The answer flies on the wall beside you, sleek and avian. This one is nothing like the stiff, crooked lizard-eater the children made for their game. It’s a fearsome thing with a hooked beak and great talons, shedding ashy clumps of feather-shaped darkness in its wake. 

The night grows colder. Your breath trickles from your lips as pale smoke. 

Another flash illuminates the street too brightly, everything pale and overexposed. But there is shelter. Darkness. An open alley—a chance. A risk. You dart for it, fire and death at your heels. A pair of lanterns sit against one stone wall, one warm and dawn-colored, one cool like the deep sea. Theron’s followers appear at the other end, blocking your exit. Your hands are trembling, fingers tingling with warning nips of frostbite. Your shapes become rudimentary and crude. One-handed cave snake. Limp nose-fingered steppe camel. Drooping, hideous Decretum greater spider, your hands too stiff to articulate proper movement. 

But the game goes on, each movement conjuring a new, monstrous response from your unseen partner. The beasts grow larger, less familiar, more horrific with each passing turn: a dripping mirebeast. A segmented dross worm, as thick as your torso. A writhing, churning, too many mouthed nobody-maker, devourer of bones, souls and names. These are not animals found on Decretum. They are not found anywhere that has ever known the kiss of sunlight, however briefly.

And then a blast—an earth-shaking sound and sensation that knocks you off your feet and steals the breath from your lungs. Theron is close when he pulls the trigger. You see him briefly illuminated in the flash of fire, the burning golden-red of engulfing agony crackling like the glow of a bonfire against his face. You’re half-turned when the explosive round immolates everything below your knee. The pain turns your thoughts to hot wax, shapeless and leaking from the screaming terror in your mind. Is your leg still there? Is it gone? Melted into a bubbling slurry of liquified flesh and quivering tar puddles of what was once muscle? You don’t know, can’t tell, can’t feel it. Can’t feel anything through the pain boiling your blood, the rawness of scraped palms and wheezing, smoke-filled lungs. 

But the game. The calling. It’s not done. One more, you think. Just one more. There is one beast that trumps all others. One way that it always ends. You try to turn over onto knees that might be shattered. The ground is blackened. Uneven. Speckled with blood. Someone smashes the lanterns. Kicks them over and stomps on what’s left. The lights gutter out and shadows eagerly fill their space like swarming carrion birds to a corpse. 

“That was a warning,” Theron tells you. “I only need enough of you to answer my questions. I can keep you alive with far less than this if I have to.” The sword in his hand thrums softly with power. Its glow is unsightly. Powerful. It fills the alley. Everything caught in its spotlight glow casts a long, sharply defined shadow. Even as you’re surrounded on all sides by inquisitorial agents, it’s easy to find your hunched shape among their legs in your silhouette doubles along the wall. Your vision swims. Theron’s cold sneer turns blurry. You pitch forward at his feet in a deep bow, your forehead pressed to the ground before his boots. He inhales sharply. Almost a laugh. He thinks you’re groveling, about to beg for your life. 

But you’re not. You’re playing the game. Humans have bested the nobody-maker. Not always. Not without great sacrifice. Like the canopy moose of Decretum’s most treacherous forests trampling a wolf to save its young, this is not a battle one ever hopes to fight and it is never won without scars. 

“See me and come to me,” you say, your voice a hoarse, ruined whisper. You know you are heard. You know, when the darkness ripples like the surface of a lake, that you are answered. Theron takes a cautious step back. You’re too weak to lift your head and follow his gaze but you know this coldness. This darkness. This feeling, like the night is a beast come to roost.

There is a shadow on the wall. An extra. One that should not be there. Monstrously tall and spindly, the shapeless thing looks nearly human until it moves, predator-graceful and uncanny like a nightmare glimpsed in the twilight between waking and sleep. It slithers across the alley wall into the thicket of shadows caging you in. Theron cries out a warning but he’s too late. His voice dies to a strangled croak. 

Meaning spreads in your mind. Not sound but its aftermath, like the cosmic scream of a star long dead. Your mind makes it into words but some of them curve and fractal, shattering into multiple concepts all spoken at the same time. “Hello,” it says, but also, “Greetings misfortunes night eternal.” Its name, too, is like the color that pours from a prism lantern, a blur of ceaseless beauty. I Am The Darkness Ever-Growing, but Ever-Growing also means Changing in its language, also Covering, also Devouring. Once, you heard it speak its name and it sounded like I Am The Shadow Devouring, so that’s what you told the others. That’s still the name they know, however shortened, however calcified by human language. 

Shadow Eater comes closer, passing through the unmoving throng of Theron’s retinue. It doesn’t touch them; only their shadows. Each time it eclipses them, covers their featureless doubles in its own darkness, they start to shiver and bleed. 

“Dusk-speaker,” it addresses you. 

“Chosen,” it hisses. 

“Lover,” it sighs. 

“By the Throne,” Theron whispers. “A mandrake.” 

A torrent of blood spatters the ground beside you. One of Theron’s men clutches his throat and the gaping wound splitting it open, a red, glistening maw oozing over his scrabbling fingers. He’s choking. Something bulges under his skin, in his neck. You see darkness in the folds of the wound between slippery soft tissues. Clawed fingers the color of night, tearing him apart from the inside. 

“This land,” Shadow Eater says, “this world, planet, garden. Long have you defended it. Long have I aided you. Closed prying eyes. Lopped off thieving fingers.” It steps closer. Another man screams like an animal caught in a snare. Blood gushes from his eyes, his nose, between his teeth. It trickles from his ears and stains his clothes in heavy red shadows like sweat. “They do not understand. Outsiders. Sun-scourged. Light-drunk and drowning-in-day—”

“You made a deal with it?” Theron hisses.  “It’s an abomination. Do you understand what you’ve done? It’s devouring your world!”

You try to sit up. To raise your head, at least. Everything hurts too much. Sprawled on your side, you crane your neck to peer at the wall and find Shadow Eater gazing down at you. It bends down, crouching in front of your writhing, miserable shadow. When it reaches out, you swear you can feel the soothing cold of its palm on your sweat-soaked forehead. “To be eaten is to be sheltered,” you say. “To be embraced. Ever-growing.”

“Do you hear yourself? This is madness! You’ve doomed all of Decretum.” Theron clutches his sword in his shaking fist, jaw clenched in simmering rage but you see fear in his eyes. He hasn’t moved. He can’t. There’s the slightest quiver in his voice, easily missed if you hadn’t heard so many Inquisitors break before him. “If you kill me, the full force of the Inquisition will be at your door. Ordo Malleus is well aware of the strange occurrences on this planet and word will spread. My death will hasten your destruction.” 

Shadow Eater turns towards him slowly. Someone retches, heaves and vomits. Bile, blood and bits of intestine slosh across the ground. “Perhaps,” Shadow Eater says. In words this time. Out loud, so Theron can hear and understand it. “Perhaps it will. Your death could bring more death. Annihilation by wrathful brightness. Weapons of night-killing. My garden, turned to ash.”

You inhale shakily. Shadow Eater’s clawed hand caresses your shadow’s face and you feel it, firm, possessive, wanting. The steady touch of an old lover who knows you better than anyone. 

“Or,” it purrs, “perhaps they will come here and find nothing. Only darkness and echoes. Only the hungry maw of the void.”

They’re dying all around you. Collapsing to their knees, cupping the gruesome spill of entrails from open bellies. Bruises bloom beneath the skin and the bulging outline of some voracious thing presses against their flesh from the inside. Theron’s stony expression crumbles with every pained whimper and gurgling gasp. “Don’t do this,” he says solemnly. “Surely you know, deep down, that this is wrong. I don’t know how you came into the service of this beast or how many came before you, but you could be the last. You could save this world. The children of Decretum deserve lives bathed in the light of the Emperor, not this wretched darkness—” 

“The sun,” you correct him. Theron gapes at you, too stunned to reply. “It’s the sun that lights this planet four hours a day. The last time Decretum felt the light of the Emperor was ten thousand years ago. He brought war. He vaporized cities and killed millions. Decretum came into the Imperium through bloodshed.”

“And this is the answer? More bloodshed? The deaths of billions more?” 

You shake your head. “You’re afraid of the dark, Theron. We haven’t been for a very long time.” 

Shadow Eater laughs like a death rattle and the grating of metal. You see slopes of lean muscle in its arms, wisps of hair spilling over its shoulders, the pointed ends of unnaturally long ears. Unnatural light throbs in swirling patterns across its body and glitters in the shape of eyes narrowed in sadistic glee. The eerie green glow does not weaken the shadows but makes them darker, more solid somehow.

“You called. Summoned. Pleaded. Needed, and shall receive,” it says. “If you can pay the price.”

You hesitate to ask. “What’s the price?” 

Its hand moves. Lowers slowly. You watch it touch your shadow’s neck and feel its cold fingers on your throat, testing how hard it can push before you choke. “Everything,” it says. “All of you, love of mine. Body. Mind. Soul. For that, I keep my garden. For that, I save your world.” 

“Don’t!” Theron begs. 

“This is how it ends, isn’t it?” you ask. 

Shadow Eater laughs but more softly this time. It’s the creak of a door that has not been opened as long as anyone can remember. The whispers of ice underfoot before it breaks and cold water swallows you whole. “Yes,” it says, its palm over your heart. “This is how it ends.”

“In devouring?” 

“In shelter,” it promises. In remaking, it means, in wholeness and in eternity. It trails its claws up your arm and your sleeve comes apart like flesh beneath a scalpel, the fabric split cleanly all the way to your shoulder. Underneath, your skin is adorned with the same patterns marking its shadowflesh. In the dark, they glow the same lightless green.

“Shadow Eater,” you say, just as you have so many times before, “I will pay this price.” 

All across Decretum, night roils like a stormy sea. The darkness is a tangible, hungry thing that grows and deepens, seeping from every corner. Lanterns flicker, die and flare to life once again in the same haunting shade of green no matter the color of their glass. The clouds eat the moon piece by jagged piece. The dead and dying around you begin to bloat and contort, shadows spilling from their gashes and wounds thick like sludge. Claws crack open rib cages and scrape through flesh as mandrakes emerge from each broken body, not mere shadows but real and solid.

Their hair is silver like the missing moon and their faces are jack-o-lantern smiles, glowing green features carved from the darkness that change in blinks and flickers. Shadow Eater speaks words not meant for you, animal calls and echoes that make your head spin. The other mandrakes creep closer. One pushes you upright too quickly and you hiss, trying to shift your weight off your knees. Another trails its frigid fingers along the underside of your leg—still there, you only realize now, but badly burned and oozing. It collects your clotted blood and pus on its claws and brings the mixture to its mouth, a long, green tongue curling around the digit to taste your pain. 

They all speak at once, a cacophony of threats, sweet nothings, insults and seduction. You are beloved and you are despised, a treasure, a whore, a shadow at twilight. They call you dusk-speaker, sun-touched, most wondrous in moonlight, most coveted of consorts. One plasters itself against your back and shoves its hands into your clothes, caressing your skin with greedy hands. Another presses its mouth to yours, each teasing lick and nip leaving tingles of frostbite on your lips. Another slides its fingers between your legs and rubs too rough, too fast, making you whimper and squirm.

You lose count of how many there are—five? Six? They blur into one another, shift and meld and split apart. One spreads your legs, a claw on each of your knees holding them apart, while another eagerly fills the space between them. Your clothes turn to tatters, exposing all of your markings. They are vivid now, a deeper green than you remember, giving off the same lightless glow.

“Shadow Eater!” you cry. You’re afraid. You’ve always known the name of the dark, but suddenly it’s become a stranger.

“Yes, dusk-speaker?” it answers. Its voice comes from everywhere at once. Behind you. Beside you. In your own head, a whisper between your thoughts. The mandrake kneeling between your legs cups your cheek and its touch is firm. Familiar. It urges you to look at the flickering green flames of its eyes. Is it Shadow Eater? Are they all the same mandrake, the same shadow split seven ways? You don’t know. Maybe you never will. One of them bites your neck hard enough to draw blood and your pained whine excites it, makes it pant hungrily into your skin. Its tongue feels like the press of an ice cube, too cold and then soothing. 

“Have you always known it would end this way?” it asks. “Have you longed for it?” 

They devour you every way they can. Your pain and your pleasure, your thoughts and your senses, your body and mind. Pressed between them, you become nothing more than a vessel for mindless sensation. Your hands tangle in snow-white hair. Your legs lock around straining, pistoning hips, meeting frenzied thrusts.

Shadowflesh is not the same as a human body. The things they conjure between their legs to fuck you could be any shape and any size, changing whenever they see fit. You take something long and flexible, thighs quivering as it wriggles deeper than you expected, deeper than should be physically possible. You kiss a cold, greedy mouth with two tongues. More hands than you can count hold you, cushion you, reposition you. Time loses meaning. There’s only the dark, and the green, and the ecstasy that only a shadow can give you.

And Theron. 

You jolt in sudden realization. He’s right there. He’s staring right at you. Still frozen, still clutching his useless sword, the pulsating glint of its energy sheath starting to fizzle and dim. Shadow Eater stands beside him. Towers over him. Large, monstrous claws frame his face, never letting him look away from your body in the grip of countless mandrakes. It makes him watch as you are taken again, and again, and again.

“One final kindness. A gift you do not deserve,” it hisses in his ear. “I am in you, seeker of forbidden answers. In your darkness. Your hidden places. I know what you desperately try to conceal, and here it is. What you desired and what you never could have had. Never. Do you understand? They were mine before you even learned their name.” 

Defiant to the end, Theron says nothing. He hides behind the wall that every Inquisitor builds all around their minds and hearts, stone cages of distance and misery. His lip twitches just once, just slightly. A cry stifled. He swallows hard. He doesn’t even try to look away. A twinge of sadness and pity makes your chest feel tight but the mandrakes don’t let it linger. One catches your chin between its claws and you are kissed by the night that eats Decretum one imperceptibly small bite at a time, dying the same little deaths. The darkness deepens and the shadows grow until there is nothing else.

Theron’s sword blinks and flickers and finally dies. It is the last light that will ever shine on Decretum. There will be searchlights someday, the whirling lighthouse beacons of voidfaring vessels in search of a planet that is supposed to be there, but they will never find anything. Sometimes, when the crew cycles shifts and an officer returns to their quarters for rest, they will receive a transmission that has no discernable source. Nonsensical, mostly. Just interference. Indistinct hisses of static. 

But somewhere in there, they’ll think, it almost sounds like the voices of children playing a game.