#she did not deserve all that sorry you are gay but leave her out of it

[zer0point5ive]

lawrence didn’t do anything wrong he is an angel everything he did was because h[someone brings up alison] yeah i think he should be chained up again. better yet, taken out back and shot for his crimes

[risuola]

CALL IT DOUBLE TROUBLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU, who have a habit of sharing everything

It’s been a while since you last saw your college ex-boyfriend Gojo and a Halloween party led to your reconnection. It was cool to see him again, although your break-up was messy. What turned out to be a plot twist, was that he now has a handsome best friend and together, they are deadly.

cw: smut, exes to lovers, strangers to lovers, threesome, double penetration, praise, cum play, oral (f & m receiving), su*cide is mentioned (no description, just brief mention), reader discretion is advised — 6k words

masterlist

a/n: with that post I'm concluding the kinktober - sorry about the delay! work overwhelmed me, it sucked the life out of me, but I'll be getting back to writing now, so stay tuned! also, we hit 1300 followers, so I just want to say thank you so much for being here and reading the shit I post!

You were never that big on parties – you found them mostly annoying with the masses pushing and pulling all around you, drunk assholes that never seem to understand how consent works and even more drunk girls, that throw themselves at anyone slightly attractive. At least that’s how you remember every party you were on during your college years. You experienced firsthand how much effort men can put into chasing a hem of a mini skirt and you also saw in real life, how women were flexing their assets just to get into the pants they want. Unfortunately, usually pants that were in the biggest demand, were coincidentally belonging to your boyfriend. Uh, yeah, maybe that’s why you don’t really like parties.

Dating Satoru Gojo was a blessing, in some parts – he was just lovely to you. He was caring, to some extent, he was sweet-talking you into everything he wanted, and his arrogance always seemed to fly right over your head, but you loved him for longer than he deserved. You trusted him to not sleep with those eagerly spreading girls and he never did. At least that’s what you like to believe. Flirting with them – that was a different story. Satoru was an attention whore, really. He was basking in the gazes glued to him, the salivating mouths were feeding his already enormous ego and he seemed to have the time of his life pulling the strings of those poor, naïve girls that every time believed him when he told them they are just so pretty. His crystalline blue eyes were capable of turning lesbians into straight and straights into gay. The number of suggestive pictures he posed for flooded your social media each time after the parties you attended with him, and not one of those pictures he’s ever taken with you. And then, after leaving the frat houses and clubs, he would tell you how lucky you are to have him, how all of those silly girls were offering him their pussies oh so eagerly. He’d tell you how they envied you. All while he’d fuck you. You spent two years with him, then came the break-up and just as everything that involved Satoru was messy – so was your parting.

You really had no pleasure in partying, after freeing yourself from the toxicity of Gojo, you finally found peace. You flew through college with ease and after it ended, you found yourself quite a nice job – you were okay without attending any kinds of alcohol and loud music related people gatherings. That’s until Shoko called you earlier that month, practically begging you to pay her a visit on Halloween. She was in the city, having her family house all to her disposal due to her family being on a trip somewhere warm. It was a party where all of your college, mutual friends were going to be, a little reconnection if you will and she insisted you show up as well. It really sounded lovely to see where all of your friends landed in lives. With some you still had a regular contact, but some just went their ways and you rarely crossed paths with them, so you agreed to be there. That was a perfect opportunity to catch up and you were excited.

For some unknown reason, not even once you considered Gojo to be there as well. You just kind of pushed the memory of him to the back of your head, you removed him from the picture of your mutual circle of friends and completely you forgot that he’ll most likely be there as well. You realized it when Shoko asked you about him.

“Have you seen Gojo already?”, her tone was quite cautious when she mentioned the name to you, and with the way you looked at her from above your dying cigarette, she spoke again, “You know he’s gonna be there as well, don’t you?”

“Guess I blacked out that possibility,” you mumbled, shrugging softly to shake off the uneasiness of the thought and killing the cig in the sink before throwing it away. “No, I haven’t seen him and I hope it will stay that way.”

“Oh, you’re still wounded after him?”

“No, Sho, I’m not wounded,” you grabbed yourself a red cup from the array on one of the tables in the kitchen. You had no idea what concoction of liquid courage was inside every each of them, but you really couldn’t care less. If that was one of your first parties in years, you were not going to be picky and you trusted Shoko enough to not have death in those cups. “I’m really not. Thing is… I don’t know, it’s been so many years, I’m not really sure what to even tell him. We broke up in a mess that wasn’t addressed ever since, so you know.”

“Yeah, right, I remember the insanity of that action. Gojo was haunting my dreams for two weeks after the suicidal stunt he pulled off.” Ieiri flinched at the memory but laughed right after realizing how stupid all of that was. “He was a drama queen, we have to give him that.”

“See?”

“Well, you’ll most likely see him anyway, so just a hi will be good.”

“Noted.”

She left you to greet someone, and you shook your head, hoping to get rid of the flashbacks, but they were inevitable, you guessed it. Long time after ending things with Gojo you couldn’t find peace after what happened. You think you will forever remember the argument that unraveled after you told him you’re breaking up with him. There was so much screaming, your head pounded with pain for two days straight after that. Nothing more than accusing of the most bizarre shits and poison was spilling from his mouth when, for the first time, Satoru Gojo was informed that someone else is leaving him. Usually, it was him who ended things up, it was him who was cutting the strings and he was too immature back then to come to terms that other people are also entitled to just go away. You remember he went completely feral, almost psychotic as he was laughing at some point, throwing ironic insults at you as if it was gonna make you stay. He had to prove a point that it’s not you who want to leave him. It’s him who want to break up and you just accidentally happened telling him that before he managed to do so. After that, he threatened you that he will kill himself and he made it everybody’s problem – you had to know it, Shoko had to know it and every single one of your friends had to know it as well. You heard from Ieiri that after about three weeks he got back to being his usual arrogant playboy, as if he didn’t just cause drama of the century. He moved on. Traumatized everyone around him, but moved on nonetheless. Now you found the situation kind of funny. You were just kids and you were not meant to be together. That’s just how life works and you wondered sometimes if Satoru learned a little more life after that or did he stay the same.

Sighing again, you took the cup and slipped in between people in the living room, stepping outside to breathe some fresh air on the terrace, thankful that no one was there. Or so you thought and no wonder you almost jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice right next to you.

“Fire?” He asked, after a moment of watching you search for the lighter in the pockets of your makeshift schoolgirl uniform. The unlit cigarette in your mouth betraying what you were looking for.

His tone was soft, saccharine sweet and calm at the same time and as you looked up at him, it somewhat matched the picture that met your eyes. The man was tall and broad, dressed all in black with dress pants and a hoodie. His sleeves half up, exposing the veiny forearms as he was keeping his lighter visible, ready to give you a hand.

“Yes, please,” you replied finally, leaning into the fire he opened and with relief you take the first breath in. You were not a smoker in your day-to-day life. One pack of cigarettes lasted you a year, but it was Shoko’s influence that today made you poison your lungs more than usual. “Thanks.”

“I’m Suguru. Geto Suguru,” he introduced himself, offering you his palm and you gave it a short squeeze, telling him your own name. You couldn’t find his face in your memories, and you’d like to think that such handsome features would tattoo themselves into your brain in one way or another. He had to come with someone else, you figured. Probably a boyfriend or a husband even. You couldn’t care less about asking. “Enjoying the party?”

“I’m not big on parties, really,” you shrugged, keeping your gaze away from him because hell, he made it so easy to stare with his long luscious, black hair resting over his shoulders and back, half tied up in a little bun just to get them out of his face. You couldn’t tell what his costume was, he had some kind of alternative style going on, slightly rocker vibes with his pierced ears and silver chains hanging from his neck, but it might have as well be his usual style – he looked good in it. He most certainly looked like a big, red flag but hell was the flag attractive.

“I see. Well, I’m not either,” he confessed, huffing out a greyish cloud of smoke out of his lungs and by the smell of it, you could tell it wasn’t nicotine.

“What you’re smoking?”

“Weed, why? Wanna try it?” It was an offer that you should politely say no to, but it was your first and probably last party in a while, so you asked yourself why not and took the joint from his fingers.

“So, you’re here with someone?” you questioned, just to keep the conversation going once you gave him the smoke back. You could feel the unfamiliar but somehow pleasant burn in your lungs after the drag you took and slowly you blew the fume out. Suguru found the view attractive. Sharing a joint with you felt a little more intimate than it should have, the way your lips wrapped around the brownish paper made him wonder how would they look wrapped around something else. Thoughts like this shouldn’t bloom in his head right after he’s met you, not when he’s an adult man, not a stupid kid anymore, but some things couldn’t be stopped.

“Yeah,” he inhaled once more, deeply enough to kill the joint and throw it away. You watched for a moment how he kept the smoke in his lungs, letting it go after a moment. The cloud escaping through his mouth and nose in a soft stream. Fuck, what a gorgeous man. Whoever was the girl that got him had to be lucky. “You know him, he told me about you.”

Oh, never mind.

“He? Ah, fuck, don’t tell me you came here with that idiot,” you reached down for your cup that few moments prior you put on the ground while searching for a lighter.

“Ow, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

And there he was. You wondered where that tower of an asshole hid.

Once you look back at Geto, there was also Satoru. He was standing next to his friend slash partner, with his forearm propped over Suguru’s shoulder as he looked at you from above the black glasses, with the very familiar grin painted on his face. Gojo changed a lot since you last saw him. He was now buffier, seemed even taller than you remembered, and his facial features matured – his jaw became more square, eyes a little more lidded and even the smirk on his lips seemed less playboy-ish and more menacingly manly. He lost his princess looks and became a man. You wondered if his character changed as well, because you could still see him using his looks to take what he wanted.

“Oh, do I?” You questioned, eyeing him up and down. His clothes were almost exactly the same as Geto’s – only difference being the light color and the fact his sweatshirt had no hood. What he was wearing completely contrasted to what his friend had on and it made sense if they were here together. Black and white, like yin and yang. You had no idea if they were here as friends or lovers, but either way, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“You sure do,” Satoru shook his head, his smile now more friendly as he approached you, entrapping you in a hug that surely took you by surprise. “It’s good to see you, beautiful.”

“You too,” you guessed, not completely convinced about what you just said but you let it be.

“I’m sorry. I have to say it before you run away from me. I’m really sorry, I was a dick when we were dating,” Gojo’s voice reached your ears directly, but you had a hard time believing what you were hearing. He was never a type to apologize for anything. Please, sorry and thank you is a set of words that you were certain he never used and yet there he was, saying just that. He really evolved. Or he wanted something.

“Yeah, you were. Hope you’re not anymore,” you chuckled softly, brushing your hand over his side.

“I try not to be,” he confessed quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck before letting go of you. He shouldn’t have kiss you like that, but the feeling of longing was way stronger than him. Even if for a moment, he had to just have a little taste of you.

Ever since you broke up, Gojo had no idea how much he missed having you in his arms. Up until that night he was okay with some random girls coming into and getting out of his bed with no strings attached. He seemed to be unable to form a lasting relationship after you, you were his first and last girlfriend that he committed to for so long, no matter how poorly. Even if he was nothing but an asshole to you, he often wished to marry you back in the college. Even if he couldn’t possibly show you how much he cared, because his childish behaviors were standing in the way of him reaching your heart properly, he really thought you will be the one and only in his life and even if he seemed to move on so quickly after you broke up with him, it was only for show. A cover up for the thunderstorm that was raging inside his chest, a band aid over the bleeding wound. No other girl was able to even half-fill the emptiness you left in his heart.

You were special to him and it thrilled him to the core when for the first time he heard from Shoko that you agreed to be there, because if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t show up as well. His time for partying finished along with his fourth year of college, when he realized there was less and less fun in drinking alcohol and forcing himself into flirting. When it came to you, he had never needed to force himself to do anything. He was just an immature kid when you dated, but he loved the time you gave him.

And now, you were still fitting perfectly into his body. As if he was made from memory foam that still remembered your shape. Now, you were still just as beautiful and breathtaking as he remembered you. In your little, schoolgirl mini skirt, thigh-high socks and a white button up shirt with a loosened tie you looked way sexier than you had a reason to. It’s been quite some time since he was that aroused from just looking at someone and you made him harder than he thought is possible. Fuck, what you were doing to him?

“So, what do you do now? Still living from party to party and from girl to girl?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink. It was strong and it really was better for you to take it in slowly, but there was a certain burn of nervousness tied to meeting your ex that you needed to drown.

“No, it’s in the past,” Satoru replied, inviting you inside, where all three of you found a nice place to sit on one of the couches. You landed between the two men. “I took the lead of my father’s company, Suguru’s my partner in crime. We’re doing good, I don’t party anymore. Honestly, if Shoko didn’t give me a sign that you will be there, I wouldn’t probably step by.”

“Oh, so you came to haunt me,” you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Yeah, kind of. Couldn’t reach you before and wanted to sort this whole mess out. I’m usually cool with having enemies, but you’re not someone I want to have as enemy.”

You gave his words a soft roll of your eyes. Maybe few years back you’d let yourself be sugarcoated into believing him, but not now. Maybe, just maybe, he matured a little, but some things will never change. Gojo was a flirt, is a flirt and probably will always be a flirt. But hell, was he cute. You cursed his innate ability to attract you from a mile.

“Sure, whatever,” you shrugged and the conversation after that was flowing nicely. You got to know Suguru, you learned who he is and why did he stick with Satoru. It was a friendship they developed that kept them together and maybe it was thanks to Geto that your ex wasn’t so much of an asshole anymore. Maybe it’s the brunette’s calm personality that somewhat grounded the playboy. Or maybe it was all an illusion. Yea, it had to be an illusion. There was no way that these two six-foot-three giants were not causing some troubles.

Yeah, they were a trouble. Double trouble, to be exact, and you got to learn that when the doors of one of many bedrooms on the floor closed behind you. You don’t even know how and why you agreed to go with them anywhere in the first place. You had no idea how on earth did Satoru sweet-talked you into fucking him again. For the old time’s sake, my ass. And more important, how did he sweet-talked you into fucking not only him, but also Suguru? At the same time?! You were not built for this, that’s for sure.

“Let’s have fun like we always did, yeah?” Gojo had this typical, shit-eating grin stretched on his face, when he was pulling you by the wrist onto the bed. Geto took his time and lit up another joint, opting to just stand and watch for now. He had a smirk on, his eyes were fixed on you, and you could tell that they weren’t new to sharing a woman. It really was obvious they did that before.

You had no time to think if that surprises you at all. Satoru was a stranger to patience. He never enjoyed waiting and always went straight for what he wanted, and this time was no exception.

“God, you look so fucking hot as a schoolgirl,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck, nibbing and kissing wet marks onto your skin whilst his fingers were already dealing with buttons of your white shirt. Your body acted on its own accord, responding to the red stains of his lips and the cold touch of his fingers with excitement that you felt for the last time when you were in college. It bothered you that you still were so receptive to the way he feels on you, you thought that you’re way over the Gojo effect but seems like you were gravelly wrong. “What a naughty one,” Satoru chuckled, his voice bordered a moan when he finally opened your shirt and your shapely tits, hugged beautifully by a lace bra entered his field of view. “Fuck, I missed those.”

“You’re talking too much,” you grabbed him by the hair, tugging the snow-white strands at the base of his neck and pushing his face down your neck and onto your chest, hoping it will shut him up. That was the issue with your ex. He really was a phenomenal lay but he was just talking so damn much. That was what ultimately pushed you over the edge when you were together back in the day. You just couldn’t stand listening about other women while he was with you.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, sucking a red spot onto one of your tits, earning himself another tug on the hair.

“Don’t mark me, idiot,” you warned him, but it was already too late and both of you knew it.

“My, my… so nervous. Let me help you relax,” Gojo smiled wide and made you lay flat on the bed. It took him no time to find his place between your thighs and before you even got a chance to react, he was already pulling your panties off of you. For a split second, your mind got distracted by the subtle scent of weed that’s filling the air. The smell that reminded you that it’s not only you and your ex in the room, but also another person.

“Don’t worry about me,” Geto smiled. Something mischievous lingered over his lips as he did before he took another drag. The joint between his fingers slowly but surely becoming smaller as he was saturating his lungs with the fumes, only to breathe them out after a moment.

“Are you not going to join?” You asked, your voice slightly breaking into a whine once Satoru flicked his tongue over your clit, reminding you how well he spoke the language of your body. He was fluent in your pleasure, you were never sure if it came to him with experience or was he just naturally gifted, but either way, he had a skill and was proud of it. He began eating you out like he was starving for the past decade. His tongue worked the puffy nub of nerves all the way around, he sucked and licked, slurped and kissed your cunt, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. He was purring while between your legs, his long fingers already working their way into your hole. The stretch was delicious, the symphony of his mouth and hands was slowly driving you insane.

“You’re so sweet,” Satoru mumbled, taking the pleasure away to smear some wet kisses along your inner thighs. “She’s so incredibly sweet, Suguru, you have to taste her,” he added, accentuating the thought with a bite onto the fat of your thigh. His friend just chuckled, making his way towards you and he handed you his half smoked joint.

“I’d love to,” Geto replaced your ex between your thighs. He kept looking into your eyes when he opened his mouth, presenting you with his pierced tongue. Little, metallic ball in the middle of the muscle glistened in the artificial lighting and it made you moan out loud, when he swiped it along your slit, gathering your juices. There was something absolutely intimidating about his calm demeanor, something nearly diabolic but it was exactly what attracted you to him. He was complete opposite to Satoru. He wasn’t bright and loud; his eyes weren’t big and vibrant. He looked mysterious, he kept himself quieter, his eyes kept the focus that Gojo couldn’t achieve. They really were made for each other.

“Oh god—,” your eyes nearly rolled back as he began working on your swollen clit ruthlessly. You had no idea if it was because of the piercing or was it just his skill, but it felt even better then when the snow-white was between your thighs. Or maybe it was just you being so turned on by him.

“You like it?”, your ex asked, grinning as he was taking the time to undress himself. “Knew you’re gonna enjoy it.”

You spared him the comment, losing the track of thoughts in the way Suguru was making you feel. You could have sworn you never felt something like this, he was just incredible with the way his tongue was engraving his own name into your clit. Cold metal of his piercing doubled down the pleasure you were receiving, contrasting with the heat of his muscle.

Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curled in, and you felt yourself quickly falling down the hole of ultimate lust. Euphoria was rushing through your veins; your heart was drumming in your chest as the smoke was leaving your lungs after the drag you took from the joint in your hand. Suguru was pushing you over the edge with such ease it felt illegal. You could feel him grinning proudly from his spot between your legs, you could feel his fingers gripping your hips with bruising strength, keeping them in place while he was slurping your soul straight from your weeping pussy.

Your orgasm exploded and you called out Suguru’s name. He didn’t stop. He kept drinking, thirsty for more of you as your juices coated his tongue and the bottom of his handsome face.

“You really do taste fucking sweet,” he commented, getting up and crawling above you. His lips were on yours the moment he reached your face. He tasted the smoke and you tasted yourself in that kiss. It didn’t last long, but the intensity of it made you almost dizzy. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

 It took just few moments until you were completely bare underneath the heavy gaze of two men around you. Satoru was just in his underwear, the tent in them painfully apparent and you knew him well enough that he won’t be able to wait much longer, but what bothered you was the fact that Suguru was still completely clothed. He looked sexy in his dark outfit, but he can look sexy in it later.

“Aren’t you a tease—” you muttered, once he got up from the bed to drown the rest of the joint in what little of alcohol was left in one of your cups on the bedside table. “Take this off.” You demanded, coming up to your knees and pushing his hoodie up.

“How demanding,” he laughed but complied and you managed to just blink twice before his god-like figure presented itself to you. A muscular, large body beautifully decorated with a dragon tattoo that wrapped its tail around his right bicep and spread on his back. You couldn’t decide what to focus on – his impressive musculature, the ink on his skin or the fact that even though he still had his pants on, you could already feel yourself salivating.

Satoru was right behind you, swiping the angry tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick and making you shiver from the touch. He then pushed his girth into you, stretching you impossibly and pulling a quiet, whiny fuck straight out of your throat. It’s been a while since you’ve been having sex with anyone, not to say anyone with that size, but you couldn’t deny that the burn was delicious. It set all your senses on fire, the heatwave washed over you and once Gojo went with the first thrust, it reminded you how much you missed the physical act of intimacy with him.

“Can’t focus, pretty girl?”, Suguru brought your attention back to himself. His long fingers gently gathered all of your hair into a messy ponytail, and you got the hint immediately. As on cue, you unbuckled his pants, pushing them down almost too eagerly. “Good girl.”

The praise in his tone got you weak, you were already becoming a mess from how perfectly Satoru was fucking you right now, pounding his hips against yours in the mind-numbing manner. His cock hitting all of the sweet spots inside of you with each long stroke and that was enough to make you almost incapable of thinking straight, but your hands and mouth acted on its own.

Geto watched how your lips wrapped around his dick. The sight of you taking him into your mouth with such hunger was something he wanted to engrave onto his brain and if the picture was amazing, then there was no word to describe the feeling itself. Your soft, plush lips felt divine brushing along his sensitive shaft, your tongue dancing around his length made him almost lose his composure. You were a sight. And you made him feel so good, he could feel himself twitching in the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. You were sucking him as if your life was depending on it, as if it was your last supper and you wanted to devour it and every time his plump tip hit the back of your throat, he could feel you taking control over him.

“Isn’t she amazing?”, Gojo mumbled from behind you. His grip remained iron on your hips, the bruising force being the only thing that was grounding you now. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your juices were running down your thighs and the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other were filling the room.

“Oh, she is,” Geto confirmed, applying some force onto your head. The tug on your hair was enough to send you overboard and the vibration of your throat once you moaned were enough for him as well. You couldn’t tell who came first, and frankly, you couldn’t care less about it, as long as it felt so damn good.

“I, fuck— I told you,” Satoru panted out. His hips moved slower as he was sloppily riding the high out. You licked the cock in front of you clean, satisfied with the first course but hungry for more.

You shouldn’t allow all of this to happen. There was not a single argument that could justify everything that was happening right now – you shouldn’t sneak out to god-knows-whose room in your friend’s house and you absolutely shouldn’t sneak out there with not only your ex-boyfriend but also his friend. You couldn’t even remember how you agreed to that. Why have you agreed to that? You had no idea. Was it to talk?

You wouldn’t exactly call the way your body was being stuffed full by two cocks at the same time talking. You were squeezing Suguru’s shoulders as he was thrusting his hips up against yours. His body below you, laying flat on the bed made for a canvas for your nails to leave marks, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He was kissing you with a mixture of passion and laziness, a smirk stayed prominent on his lips as he was swallowing your moans. The subtle taste of weed in his mouth got you wanting more of him. He felt perfect in every way, his movements were setting your nervous system on fire as the heat was spreading over your entire body, radiating from your core. You could feel Satoru’s fingers teasing your clit, you could feel his lips smearing wet trails along your spine. The way his hips were moving seemed to be perfectly in sync with the brunette.

You were so full of them, you never felt something like this before. The initial pain you felt when Gojo pushed his girth into your asshole was long gone now as he was pounding into you in complete unison with how Geto was moving. The sensation of being so incredibly full turned your brain into a heated mush, your body was trembling between them, electrocuted time after time with a sharp waves of white pleasure. Your vision was blurry, the stars covered most of it. You could no longer tell whose hands were where and your thighs were wet and sticky from all the seed that was being pumped into you, gushing out with every piston of their hips.

“You’re so perfect for us,” someone told you. A low, rasped out voice resounded right next to your ear, followed by a harsh bite onto your shoulder and the sudden wave of new pain that radiated from it pushed you over the edge. You were speeding, falling with no parachute. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as the climax was overtaking you. “Such a good girl, you’re making so much mess.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, gasping for air as their thrusts picked a pace. You couldn’t form any coherent sentence as they were fucking the soul out of your body. Right after you came, they both came as well. Their cum coated your insides and leaked onto your thighs, dripping down as they pumped into you some more.

Gojo was first to pull out, spreading your cheeks and admiring how his white overflown your hole. The menacing grin spread across his face as he gripped your hips and lifted you off Suguru’s cock. The long-haired man sat up as you, led by your ex’s hands turned to straddle Geto’s lap. Your back was facing his chest as he pulled you back onto his shaft. All of his length sank right into your ass, pulling a moan right from your chest.

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” Satoru was in front of you, admiring for a moment your bouncing figure before his long fingers slipped into your cunt, curling in a way that got him pressing onto your oversensitive sweet spots. “Open your mouth for me.”

You barely registered his words, but your jaw dropped nonetheless. His cum coated digits slid right through your lips and you sucked on them, twirling your tongue around and tasting the mixture of your juices and their seeds. Suguru’s hands were kneading your breasts as his friend was playing with the mess between your thighs.

There was something deeply erotic in a way the white-haired man kept your gaze up. How he looked right into your eyes while you were being fucked by his best friend, how he enjoyed the way you gave them your body to play however they wanted. And it felt even more erotic when Satoru licked the lone drop of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth only to kiss you right after.

Geto was still slamming his pelvis up and you got stuck in the realm of pleasure, hanging somewhere between the movements of the cock in your ass and the lips over your own. You could feel your thighs trembling. Your body, still oversensitive from the last orgasm and yet, already entering the state of another. The wave of lustful relief now flowing dangerously close to your core, the knot in your stomach holding just barely and you squeezed Satoru’s hair, tugging at them harshly. You were struggling to breathe through the heavy kiss he was laying on your lips, but the sensation of it rendered you unable to fight it.

And then it hit you once again. The man below you filled you to the brim, tearing down the last bits of composure you had and your world shattered once the final climax. You felt as if the lust and desire were steaming off of all three of you. The breaths were mixed and the tastes concocted. As all three of you fell onto the bed, blissfully satisfied, you began to slowly regain your mind to the sound of a soft chuckle from your left side. Satoru. He had a habit of laughing when he was fulfilled – a sign of his happiness, the state nearing high. There was some gratefulness in it as well.

“How are you feeling?”, the question came from the right side, where Suguru seemed to already plan how to take care of the entire mess. He kissed your shoulder softly.

“Good,” you replied to him, watching as he gathered himself up from the bed.

“You rest a little bit longer; I’ll go get washed first and then you two.”

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending ��� thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve's parents compete to matchmake him with someone 1/?

Jonas and Diane Harrington sat in silence as their son's confession hung in the air. They'd met homosexuals before. You didn't travel as much as they did and not meet different people. But it had never occurred to them that someone so close to them - that their own son might be...

"Can you guys say something? Please?", Steve begged.

"Oh honey...", his mom started. "...Was Tommy?"

"What?", Steve pulled back at that. "Tommy? And me? Me and Tommy? No. We were never like that. Ever."

"Well, good for you son. You can do better", his father said, leaning back in his chair a little.

"He was so smarmy. You deserve someone who'll actually take care of you", Diane said, putting her hand on top of Steve's.

He looked down at the point of contact. "What's happening here?"

"Well, you being, you know, in your way, doesn't change our conversation", Jonas said. "We still think you need to stop sleeping around and find someone to be a little more serious with."

Diane nodded. "It's not good when all the gossip at the hairdresser's is about who your son is messing around with. Oh! What about Matthew?"

Steve raised a brow. "Your hairdresser?"

"Not mine, but he did fix me up when we were in New York, you remember the gala? He's nice, worldly-"

"I'm sorry", Steve interrupted. "I just told you guys for the first time ever that I'm gay, and you immediately try to set me up with someone?"

"Your love life is getting out of hand", Jonas said. He leaned forward and tented his hands on the table. "There's bets down at the bar. On who you're gonna knock up first."

"But if you're gay, we don't need to worry about surprise babies, right hon?", Diane smiled.

"Actually, I have a question about that now", Jonas started before his wife sent him a glare. "But we can save that for later. Point is, you need to hold on to someone for longer than a week."

Steve shook his head. "I can't believe my parents are talking to me about dating. What makes you think I can even get a guy? Can't exactly put the moves on them like I normally would."

His parents looked to each other, proving that neither of them really had an answer. With a sigh, Steve asked to be excused and when they granted permission, he went up to his room.

"Our Steve...a...a queer", Diane whispered.

"You think it's because I made him play football when he was a kid?", Jonas asked.

Diane shrugged. "If anything it's because of all those musicals we watched together. Then she released a heavy breath. It couldn't have been easy for Steve to tell them. And it couldn't have been easy for him to go on all those dates with those girls.

And if the rumors were true, he'd done more than date them. Jonas reached out and grabbed his wife's hand. From the moment their son had been born, all they had wanted was for him to be happy and healthy. Sometimes the healthy part meant leaving him for extended periods of time. Clearly, he'd been left on his own for too long. Surely they would have caught onto this sooner if they'd been around more, been involved more.

"What are we going to do?", Diane asked.

"You and I knew what we were going to do when we started this conversation", Jonas said, standing up from the table and putting his hands on his hips as he paced about the kitchen.

"Jonas, we can't give him Noelle's number now."

"Not Noelle, we just switch gears. Find a...a Nolan instead", Jonas decided, nodding as if to convince himself.

"Jonas, even if we can find another gay guy in this town, how do we know Steve will like him?"

"I know my son, I've got a decent idea what he likes."

Diane shook her head. “You just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?”, Jonas questioned. “What, I can’t see what makes a man attractive?”

“Not the way Steven would. I think I understand this a little better than you.”

Jonas’ hands went to his hips. “Oh you do? You think I can’t find our son a date? You don’t think I know a handsome man when I see one?”

“Name one then”, she challenged.

“….Robert Redford.”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Easy shot. Now name five that are actually our son's age."

Jonas looked put out and rolled his eyes. There was...there had to be some rock star, who was Steve listening to nowadays? Did he have a poster of someone? Who was in the movies? Maybe he had mentioned a boy at school at some point?

"Well, the bar is very high Diane. Steven is obviously the best looking boy at his school."

Diane grinned and stood up. "Was. He graduated, remember?"

"How can I forget? The grays won't stop coming."

Steve's graduation had been what had sparked this evening. Not getting into college, their son had seemed directionless. And messing around with too many girls had been the cherry on top. They had agreed to a gap year for him if he could use the time to get his relationships in check.

If he was into men, that made it slightly more challenging, but they wanted to give Steve the freedom to find himself. It was more than either of them had ever had. And what good was all the money if they couldn't spoil him a little.

"So, maybe I don't know what he's into. Doesn't mean I can't find him a good guy", Jonas said.

Diane wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You do know a good thing when you see one."

They went upstairs to check in on their son only to find him halfway out the window with a packed duffle bag.

"I'm sorry", he said, leg hanging out. "There's just no way you guys were this cool about this."

"For god's sakes Steve, get back in here", Jonas grumbled, grabbing his son before he cracked his head on the ground.

"Believe it or not, your parents are capable of higher brain functioning", Diane said, already setting to unpacking the bag and putting the clothes away. "Some of this stuff doesn't even fit you anymore", she noted as she looked through his closet.

"Hey, how's about we all take a trip to the mall tomorrow?", Jonas suggested. "Refresh our wardrobes for the summer!"

"Oh that sounds perfect!", Diane agreed. "It's been a while since we Harringtons turned heads as a group."

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, looking tense, yet hopeful. "You guys don't...you don't think I'm any different? You don't...", his voice got small, "hate me?"

"Oh Steven!", his mother wailed and sat next to him in a rush, holding onto him tightly as she cried.

Jonas cleared his throat. "Di, there's no need for tears. There's nothing sad happening."

"I'm not crying because of Steve", she said defensively. "I was thinking about Matthew. I really hope he and Otis worked it out. And that he knows he always has family who love him. And that even if the world beats him black and blue he can always come home, okay? Always, you can always come home."

"Yeah mom, I know", Steve said, eyes wet as he got her thinly veiled meaning.

Jonas sniffed and patted Steve's shoulder. "And if the world does decide to put its hands on you, remember your old man's got mob connections."

Steve gave a watery laugh at that but thanked him anyway when his mom lit up in recognition.

"Oh! What about Ricci?"

"Ricci? For Steve? Get outta here", Jonas waved her off.

"Who is Ricci?", Steve asked.

"He's a nice boy", Diane answered.

"He's a numbskull is what he is. I'll do business with the mob, but I'm not giving them my son", Jonas said as he walked towards the door.

"Who said anything about giving? His family's well off, he can take Steve nice places", Diane said as she followed him.

Jonas threw his hands up in derision. "Mobsters are like five year olds with their dames. Once they lick it, it's theirs."

"OKAY good night!", Steve closed his door to shut out the rest of their talk.

"We're going to the mall at ten, honey! Be ready for breakfast", his mother called out, then continued her conversation with his dad. Probably debating whether or not to set him up with a closeted senator's son.

Steve rubbed his face and let out a sigh. He'd confessed tonight to get any talk of girls out of the way for the summer.

Mission accomplished?

Part 2 coming soon

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Blondie Fancy-Pants

Jake Seresin x reader 6k words

summary: You meet Jake at the Hard Deck for the very first time. Or maybe not the very first time after all. But who says first impressions can’t be disproven? 

allusions to smut, as always

top gun masterlist

This Friday evening was no different than any other Friday evening. At least nothing had been different up until now. 

The bar was crowded but not overcrowded, loud but not too loud, full but not too full of navy officers. Penny was busy behind the bar and your best friend - who was supposed to be helping her out - was standing opposite you, downing her second shot of the night. Penny didn’t mind. Usually she would even join you for one, later on, but still. Your friend was a good waitress, especially good with the people here, and she did good work. She was always tipsy, yes, but if anything, that made her an even better barmaid. 

“You see that guy at the dart board?”

You turned on your little stool, a hand wrapped tightly around your shot glass, as you tried to make out just who she was pointing at. It took you a few seconds. Two guys were standing there, throwing darts effortlessly back and forth, undoubtedly military, undoubtedly navy. Heck, still in their goddamn uniforms. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Which one? Blondie fancy-pants or Hawaiian shirt?” 

She leaned closer to you as if to let you in on some big secret, eyes transfixed on the navy guys. 

“Hawaiian shirt”, she said and you did roll your eyes then. You knew that look. She’d found her victim of the night. “His name’s Rooster. He’s a real sweetheart. Told me I looked stunning when he ordered his friends a few beers.” 

“His callsign is Rooster”, you corrected. “God, if his name was Rooster I’d be sorry for him.” 

She chuckled and left you for a moment to tend to a patron while Penny was busy. It gave you the time to check out these two navy guys. 

Okay, so they were attractive, at least from where you were sitting. Broad shoulders, nice arms - you were sure they were ripped, but then again, the whole navy was. If they would just turn so that you could actually see their faces... After all, you wouldn’t let your friend hook up with just anyone. 

One of them - the blond one, fancy-pants - took a sip of his beer at one point, at least offering up his sideprofile (which, to your dismay, looked just as good as the rest of him). You sighed and turned to the bar when your friend was done and slid back up to you, two cocktail glasses in her hands. 

This was one of the advantages of knowing the barmaid: free drinks. You could spend every evening here, drinking and drinking and drinking until you blacked out without paying a penny.  

“So?”, she grinned, nodding in the general direction of the dartboard. “What do you think?” 

You took a sip of your cocktail.

“Hawaiian shirt is different, I’d say”, you shrugged. “Whether that’s good or bad will be up to you to say tomorrow morning.” 

She rolled her eyes as you grinned - you felt that you were allowed to tease her at least a little. She’d had her fair share of fun with navy guys, alright. You deserved your fair share of teasing her for it. Especially because you knew that unless Hawaiian shirt was gay, they would absolutely be leaving together once her shift was over. 

“Shut up”, she laughed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she watched him. You turned back as well, your fingertips skimming over the rim of your glass. Okay, so maybe they were quite easy on the eyes. Sadly you doubted that they’d be as easy listening to. Usually that was the way it went with the navy men here.

“He’s...” She bit her lip, pondering what to say. “Cute. Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot as hell, but he’s real cute too. I mean, have you seen that little dance when he makes a good throw?” 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head even though you knew she was too transfixed to see that. 

“He dances?”

“He shimmies”, she corrected, and you glanced at her to spot her smirk. 

“Ah”, you said, hiding a grin of your own as you turned back. “And his friend?” 

Blondie fancy-pants was winning, it seemed, and he was being real smug about it too. He had his sunglasses hooked into the collar of his uniform (which, even though you hated to say it, looked really good on him) and he was gripping the neck of his bottle of beer in a way that really shouldn’t have annoyed you as much as it did. 

You could feel your friend’s eyes burning into the back of your head and with a sigh, you shifted to face her. You already knew what she was going to say, especially with that grin on her lips, almost sadistic. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. 

“You like a navy guy!”, she screeched, pulling back from the bar top to point her hand at you dramatically and jump up and down. “This hasn’t happened in...” 

She narrowed her eyes and pretended to count on her fingers. 

“Two and a half years!” 

You huffed. 

“I just don’t like their menality. Most of them are pretty faces with no thoughts inside their head. Sorry that I like to be intellectually challenged at least a little.” 

“That sounds like a dig at me personally.” 

You snorted and took a sip of your drink. 

“Honestly I admire you for being able to just ignore everything about a guy except for his appearance. Would certainly help me at times.” 

“Well”, she grinned. “Blondie fancy-pants can count himself lucky, hm?” 

You chuckled and shook your head, risking a glance at the dartboard again. A woman had joined them, also in uniform, also with a beer bottle in her hand, a grin playing on her lips, and you got the distinct impression that she was looking over Hawaiian shirt’s shoulder straight at you. But that couldn’t be.

“You know her?”, you asked your friend over your shoulder. She shrugged. 

“Nope. Don’t know any of them to be honest. Their whole group must be new.”

You watched as the woman’s grin widened, as she raised her beer and pointed it right at the bar. Both of the navy guys turned around and before you could react, Blondie fancy-pants was looking at you. You almost fell off of your chair. 

Instead you pulled yourself together and wheeled around, grabbing your glass until your knuckles turned white and staring wide-eyed at your friend behind the bar. She - much unlike you - had not panicked and turned, but instead was still staring, her grin replaced by a coy smile, tilting her head to the side and giving them a little wave.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, you hissed. 

She looked at you like you were insane. 

“Not being absolutely socially inept like you?”

You huffed and brought your glass up to your lips instead of answering, gulping down the rest of your cocktail in one to help calm your nerves. Okay, so Blondie fancy-pants not only looked outrageously attractive, but had also most definitely caught you staring at him. This might just be the most embarrassing thing to happen to you ever since that time you’d landed face-first in your mashed potatoes in eighth grade. You wondered if you’d gone just as red right now. 

“They’re coming over.” 

Your head snapped up like someone had pulled on it. 

“They’re what?” 

“They’re coming over right now”, she repeated, a grin tugging at her lips again. 

“Both of them?”, you asked, panic surging through you. Oh, god, your friend was right, it had been too long, way too long since you’d done something like this. Swiping on an app, sure, texting a bit, sure, but just chatting up some random navy officer at a bar? No, thank you. 

“Both of them.”  

She’d hardly spoken the words when they were sliding up next to you, one on your right and one on your left, close but not close enough to make you feel caged in, which was a miracle in itself. Your friend grabbed your empty glass and you pried your fingers away despite not wanting to let go. It was the one thing keeping you grounded and she was taking it away from you just like that.

“We couldn’t help but notice”, Blondie fancy-pants said, and you realised there was a Southern drawl to his voice (which didn’t make him any less attractive whatsoever and you hated that), “You two lovely ladies watching me win at darts.”

You took one deep breath and looked up at him - and in hindsight you just should’ve kept staring at the bar top because shit, he had stunning green eyes, and they were already boring into yours. 

“Don’t flatter yourself”, Hawaiian shirt snorted, and you turned your head to him only to see him smiling at your friend. She was clutching the glasses in her hand, halfway down the bar to put them away and serve some other patrons. You knew the expression on her face. Hawaiian shirt had a target on his back and he didn’t even know it - not yet. “It was a close call, Bagman.” 

You turned back to Blondie fancy-pants and suddenly felt sorry for your neck. 

“Bagman?”, you repeated with a laugh, surprised that your voice came out quite steadily. “Well I’ve heard a lot of callsigns in my life, but Bagman may just be at the top of the ‘dumbest I’ve heard yet’ list.” 

He narrowed his eyes as if he was hurt, but that grin was still apparent enough on his lips that you knew he wasn’t. Interesting. Most navy guys were screaming bloody murder the second anyone dared to insult their callsign.

“Well actually”, he chuckled, leaning in a bit closer (and you’d deny this to anyone who asked but your breath hitched in your throat like you were a teenage girl again and you glanced down at his lips for just a split second, horribly inviting like the rest of him and his goddamn charm). “It’s Hangman.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Hangman. Hangman, Hangman, Hangman... You’d heard that somewhere. You knew that callsign. Somehow, you knew that. You just couldn’t remember where you got it from. 

“Hangman”, you repeated, slowly, swirling the word around on your tongue for a moment. Sounded kind of nice, that word laced with your own tone, your own voice... And then it hit you and you gasped almost comically, pulling back, sitting up straight, fingers tightening around the edge of the bar top. 

“Shit, I know you! You’re the asshole from that fundraising event I organised for the navy! The one who was ‘too busy’ to talk to ‘some chick from marketing’.” 

“Wait.” Your friend was sliding back up to you, four bottles of beer in her hands that she set down on the bar just a little too firmly. “Blondie fancy-pants is Mr. Better-than-you?” 

You didn’t know whether to cringe or grin and just ended up laughing, grabbing for your beer and taking a sip as you nodded, her expression stuck somewhere between shock and amusement. 

“I don’t know what I should find funnier - Blondie fancy-pants or Mr. Better-than-you”, the other navy guy chuckled, also grabbing a bottle but unlike you getting out his wallet - to pay for it? Your friend put her hand on the back of his in one swift motion, holding it down on the bar top as she smiled up at him. 

“On the house”, she winked, pulling back to place a bottle in front of Hangman, as you’d learned, as well. Hawaiian shirt thanked her with a chuckle, pocketing his wallet again and grinning at her, and you had the distinct impression that he’d forgotten what he’d said about his friend or that he was part of any conversation at all anymore. 

“Blondie fancy-pants?”, Hangman asked, the corners of his lips tugging upwards even as he frowned. It sounded wrong coming from him, like he’d never been meant to say anything like it, the slight accent and the tone all messed up and you had to laugh again, realising that perhaps this was the icebreaker you’d needed. 

Usually, you would’ve been a little more resentful. That fundraising event had, after all, taken a lot of planning - he’d been supposed to give a speech, but he’d only been fluttering about the room and after you’d unsuccessfully tried to talk to him for the third time, he’d basically told you to fuck off without even looking at you twice and you’d had enough of him, so you’d gone over his head to talk to his superiors and had allowed yourself just a small condescending smirk as you’d seen his face fall, imagining the punishment he’d surely get the next day. 

But you already had enough alcohol in your bloodstream to make it seem just a little funnier and make you a little less mad and anyway, he’d been the subject of one too many jokes about navy guys on girl’s nights out, so whatever. 

“In my defense”, you grinned, holding up your hands. “I didn’t know your names - come to think of it, I still don’t - and well, you’re blond, and he” - you pointed at his friend, “he’s wearing that shirt.” 

“Oh, he’s got a nickname as well?”

“Hawaiian shirt. Because, you know. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt.” 

You shrugged with a grin planted firmly on your face, watching as he raised his eyebrows and put the bottle to his lips. 

“Very creative”, he chuckled. 

“I did my best!”, you argued, pushing him away from you by the shoulder and pouting, turning to his friend instead. “Is he always like that?” 

“Most of the time.” 

You examined him for a moment. He was tall, a little taller than Blondie fancy-pants and yeah, you could see where your friend was coming from. Sadly, you seemed to have a taste for guys much too full of themselves who had already disappointed you once before. 

“Rooster, right?”, you asked, and he gave you a small smile as he nodded. You broke out into a grin again. “I don’t want to ask, do I?” 

Your friend let out a laugh and you turned to look at her, raising your eyebrows, already guessing what rabbit hole her thoughts were going down right now. 

“Even if it’s not what I’m thinking, I don’t want to know the truth”, she laughed, backing away to serve another patron. “It’s nice to picture.” 

She winked at him again and you gagged, turning back to Blondie fancy-pants instead. You did not whatsoever feel the need to be stuck in the middle of that flirt. Hangman was sipping his beer with a grin on his lips that you couldn’t quite place. He was still looking at you - you didn’t know if he’d ever looked away from you. Before you could get too nervous because of that, you swallowed and glanced down at the bottle in his hands (another mistake because that had your imagination running in circles). 

“How ‘bout you, Bagman?”, you asked, your voice just a little breathless around the edges, which you prayed wasn’t noticeable. “What’s the story behind your callsign?” 

For a second, his jaw clenched, but then he was grinning again and leaning closer to you and you brushed it off as some illusion of the light or your tipsy mind playing a joke on you. You couldn’t help but grin right back. There was something infuriatingly intriguing about him, and you guessed that exactly that was his charm - the fact that even though he was so obviously smug, much too confident, much too full of himself, he was still so very charismatic, so infatuating. With his eyes focused just on you, the attentive way he flirted, his accent... and, sure, his appearance certainly didn’t make him any less attractive. Actually that was probably the main reason he was attractive in the first place and the rest was just additional charm. 

“That would be a story for a second date, darlin’“, he chuckled. 

You swallowed. You could feel your skin growing hot. It may have been the pet name or maybe the mention of a second date, but either way you had to look away from him. 

“So this is a first date?”, you asked. “Because that would sure be a terrible first date.”

“Darling”, he said, in a tone that was definitely not normal. He leaned against the bar top, arm resting on the wood, the bottle between his fingers dangling just before the edge and you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. He paused, waiting, you realised, for you to react. You bit into your bottom lip as you followed his wish and looked up, pushing the hair from your face and meeting his eyes, if a little carefully. 

“This sure ain’t a first date. I know how to treat a lady.” 

You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering off at his words once again today. He’d probably intended that. No, he’d definitely intended that. 

“You say that now”, you chuckled, emptying your beer and putting it down. “Just wait until you’re too busy for me again.” 

“You can’t hold that against me forever. I’m sure it was a very stressful night for the both of us.” 

“You’re sure?”, you gasped. “You don’t even remember what I’m talking about?” 

He grimaced as if caught - which you kind of had done to be honest - at least pretending to feel guilty. You huffed. Well, he was just ups and downs, wasn’t he? You didn’t know what to do with him. All you knew was that you were feeling impossibly attracted to him and you couldn’t explain why. 

“Let me make it up to you”, he smiled, putting his bottle down as well and offering you a hand. You glanced at it and then up at him and then back down at it again. 

“Sorry?” 

“I said-” He leaned in closer, so close that you could smell his aftershave - woodsy somehow and just as intriguing as the rest of him. “Let me make it up to you.”

You swallowed, hesitating as you slowly placed your hand in his, fingers intertwining - his skin was warm and soft and sent a wave of electricity through you that made your breath hitch in your throat. 

“What?”, you croaxed, trying to grin at him without losing your mind. “You’re just gonna take me home now?” 

He pulled you towards him, off of your chair, and you were tipsy enough to stumble a bit, your hand coming up to steady yourself, bracing against his chest. Well, here came the next mistake of the night: being so close to him, because you didn’t think you would ever be able to recover from that. 

“I thought we’d start with a dance”, he chuckled. You were sure your eyes were blown wide as you looked at him (the urge to pull him in and kiss him grew with each passing second and you weren’t a fan of that). 

“Oh”, you let out, and maybe you should’ve cringed at yourself, but you were way past that point already. He just kept grinning down at you. 

“I mean, I won���t say no to a pretty lady like you”, he drawled. “But you’ve had a few drinks and I won’t take advantage of that.” 

So he was sweet as well, wonderful. You just rolled your eyes. 

“I’ve drunk a bit, sure”, you said, almost dismissively. “But not enough to do anything I don’t want to. Besides, I thought we were going dancing?”

“We are.” 

His laugh was infectious, warmth spreading through your body and you didn’t know if it was at the sound or the feeling of him so close to you, of the grip he had on your hand as he led you onto the dancefloor, of the hold on your waist and the way his hair felt when you crossed your arms behind his neck and brushed your fingers through it, of the way he smiled - almost... no, was that sweet? You were sure the alcohol was affecting you a little more than usual after all because a navy guy like him certainly didn’t smile anything close to sweetly.

“You look gorgeous by the way”, he muttered, dipping his head down low so that his lips were just short of grazing the shell of your ear, his breath making you shiver. 

“Thanks”, you whispered, perhaps a little too breathless and a little too obvious if his answering chuckle was any indication. You were way too flustered already. He’d barely done anything yet somehow, you were putty in his hands. You’d known this man for the better part of fifteen minutes maybe and were prepared to cut the night short and leave with him. What the fuck had he done to you? This had never happened before. And you weren’t particularly comfortable with it happening now. 

But he smelled just a little too good, looked just a little too perfect, spoke just a bit too charmingly and held you just a little too close for you to do anything but melt into him and let him take the lead, to do anything but go with the flow, follow him. 

“You haven’t told me your name yet”, he said, a grin on his lips that you could hear. Your arms tightened around his neck. 

“I haven’t?”, you asked, fighting the urge to let your eyes fall shut and pull him closer. His touch, his scent were making it hard, way too hard. 

“No”, he chuckled. “You haven’t.”

You couldn’t help but smile. For what may have been the first time this whole evening, you had the whip hand. 

“Gee”, you drawled, hardly able to keep from grinning when he leaned back a bit to be able to look at you, eyebrows raised. “What a coincidence, Hangman. It’s almost like names are real important to you, hm?” 

His laugh reverberated in your chest with how close you stood. 

“You don’t have the best impression of me, do you, darling?” 

“Well”, you shrugged, meeting his eye and seeing the same twinkle in them that you were sure he could see in yours. “You’ve done a way better job tonight than you did at that fundraiser.” 

His expression softened and before you could react, he pulled you close - so close that your nose bumped into the fabric of his collar, your cheek squashed against his uniform, a small oomph falling from your lips. His face nestled into your hair, the side of your head. You stiffened for a second, but the moment you breathed in his scent you relaxed again. Even if you couldn’t tell why, his presence was soothing - you weren’t opposed to falling asleep in his arms, right here right now. 

“You won’t let that go, will you?”, he asked, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. Involuntarily, your fingers tangled in his hair, messing up at least some of that perfect appearance that he was so smug about (and should be, if you were honest). 

“No, I will”, you whispered. “If you prove it’s worth it.”

He was quiet for a while, just swaying you to the beat, and your eyes fell close at some point as you snuggled into him, listening to his heart beating in his chest and the feeling of his hands on your waist, of his face pressed into your hair, of the sound of his breath. 

“Jake”, he murmured eventually and you blinked, needing a second to adjust to the light of the bar again. 

“What?”, you mumbled. You felt his smile against your ear this time. 

“Jake”, he repeated. “My name’s Jake.” 

“Jake... Jake.” You rolled it around on your tongue. It was a pretty name, somehow fit him, and then again it seemed much too casual. Much too average. “I like that.”

“You won’t tell me yours?” 

“I don’t know”, you grinned, propping your chin up on his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll let you work for it.”

He laughed, low and genuine, and this time you really felt it, like little electroshocks travelling through your bloodstream, your nerves on fire, your skin burning hot. God, this man had a chokehold on you. Usually by now you would have been spiralling, overthinking to a point that hurt, but somehow... You weren’t. And you were pretty sure that was on Jake. Jake. 

“Work for it, hm?”, he chuckled. “What would that look like?” 

You shrugged. 

“Do I get time to think about it?” 

“As much as you need, sweetheart.” 

He leaned back and you let him go with a bit of a pout, the cold air of the bar lonely and disappointing compared to where he’d been holding you pressed against him a moment ago. His expression was nothing short of smug again as he looked down at you, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, even with your skin burning up. 

He pulled his hands from your waist (again you totally didn’t feel disappointed for half a second) and grabbed your hands from his neck, raising your right up above your head - to twirl you, you realised, a grin spreading on your face again as you twirled for him, once, twice, thrice, laughter bubbling up and the music suddenly louder again before you fell back into his chest, bracing yourself with both your hands, dragging his right hand with you as well, your forehead falling onto his shoulder as giggles escaped you. 

You didn’t know why or how, but this man was a dream - your dream maybe, if only for today. You trusted him, him and his goddamn charm, him and his stupid grins, him and his pretty fucking service khakis. 

A navy guy. 

A fucking navy guy. 

You were falling for a navy guy in the middle of the dancefloor, in the middle of a bar, and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be ashamed of that - or of the fact that this navy guy also just so happened to be Mr. Better-than-you. Or of the fact that you still hadn’t told him your name. 

Which you should probably do. 

“Jake”, you said, pulling back a bit to blink up at him, lips parting in mild surprise when you realised he’d already been looking at you. You stared up at him for quite a few embarrassing seconds - you had wanted to finally tell him your name, not ogle him for half an hour. But you just couldn’t help yourself. Especially not when he pulled his hand from yours, when instead he cupped your jaw and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, when the light hit his eyes in such a stupidly romantic way that the green shone like fucking emeralds. God. 

“Can I?”, he muttered, his thumbs grazing your cheek. 

You didn’t trust yourself enough to actually say anything, not with how tight your throat felt, with how hard it was to keep looking at him. So you simply nodded. 

You caught his grin just before he leaned in. Then his lips were on yours and you were in heaven. 

He was firm but still gentle, decisive but not forceful, careful but not hesitant, attentive but not passive. Shit, what you were saying was that this man was a fucking marvelous kisser. You wouldn’t have minded one bit to keep kissing him for all of eternity, not in the slightest. Not with the soft movement of his lips, his tongue, of his hands on your jaw and yours hooking into the collar of his uniform. If you were to die now, you would do so happily. 

He pulled back only to breathe, to tilt his head to the other side and to kiss you again, more deeply than before, which in itself you’d thought impossible, once, twice, so long that you lost count and didn’t care, didn’t care about much anything but the feeling of him. 

Almost accidentally, your name fell from your lips. 

You couldn’t say much more than that, not with the urgency he was kissing you with, not with how he knocked your breath out of you when he smiled into the kiss - though smiled almost didn’t capture it. Grinned, smirked, that was more like it. Satisfied with himself, once more, that he had managed to coax your name from you after all. 

And, this time, he could be. He should be. 

Yes, he was that good and you wouldn’t deny it, at least not to yourself. To him, well, maybe, once you finally had enough breath in your lungs again to talk - though it didn’t seem like that would happen soon. No, Jake tugged you closer to him, let his hands fall down, down to your hips, leaving blazing fire wherever he touched you, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress, sure to leave bruises on the skin underneath. You wondered if he’d get to see them tonight. Maybe he would. Honestly, at this point he probably would.

When his lips landed not on yours, but on your jaw, on your throat, your neck... Your fingers loosened on his collar and you whimpered, arching into him as he found your sweet spot instantly, chuckling against your skin at your reaction. 

“Well that’s a pretty name for a pretty lady”, he murmured, his voice just as smooth and cool as before and for some reason, it irked you that he seemed unaffected. Unaffected by all of this, this kiss, this closeness. So much unlike you. You were melting into a puddle of human limbs in his arms, only held up by him, sure to fall and plant yourself face-first onto the floor if he were to let go of you. 

“Jake”, you mewled, hardly more than a breath, your hands sneaking up to his hair, tugging at the strands and you didn’t know whether you were tugging him away or pulling him closer into you, but still he understood. He let out a laugh, one that you could feel down to your very bones.

“You sound so pretty saying my name too, honey”, he muttered. 

You scratched at his scalp, letting your head fall back a little to give him more access to your neck - he wasn’t leaving hickeys, at least you didn’t think so, but honestly at this point you wouldn’t have minded. 

Shit, you wouldn’t have minded if a navy guy who had once before completely neglected your existence was leaving hickeys on your neck in the middle of the dancefloor at the bar your friend was working at. 

“Jake”, you repeated, almost a prayer at this point. “Jake-” 

And you didn’t know if you were going to say “Let’s get out of here” or “We can’t do this here” or “Please kiss me again” because he’d just pretty much turned your mind off with a few kisses. You were worried what else he might do. 

He understood. Again. 

“I call an Uber, you tell your friend we’re leaving”, he said, pulling back to look at you with raised eyebrows. You felt yourself swallow at his blown irises. Shit. Maybe he was good enough to hide how affected he was when he was talking, but even he couldn’t hide his own bodily reactions. Now this made your chest swell with pride - yes, suddenly you could understand why he was so very smug. 

And even though it hadn’t been a question, you knew that it was. He was waiting for you to say something, to react, and because you did not whatsoever think you could speak right now - or ever again for that matter - you just nodded.

He let go of you with a grin, slowly, carefully, steadying you until he was sure you could stand on your own (if shakily) and the first thing you did as you watched him walk away and pull his phone from his pocket was breathe. Actually take a deep breath, in and out. The air here was stuffy and warm and your face was burning up and suddenly you felt very exposed after all, so you turned as quickly as you could and marched off the dancefloor with your eyes glued to the ground. 

The first time you looked up again, you’d nearly run into the bar top. Your friend was immediately sliding up opposite you, leaving behind Rooster, who looked rather amused, with her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline and her palms resting on the wood, leaning in as close as she could without outright flinging herself over the bar. 

“You just made out with a navy guy on the dancefloor”, she said, and even though it was just an observation you cringed at her tone, your eyes dropping to your hands. 

“I did, didn’t I?”, you asked. 

“Yeah, you did”, she said again, this time breaking out into a grin. “Damn straight you did! Tell me you’re here to let me know you’re leaving. Please. Don’t say he was such a bad kisser that you had to ditch him.” 

“Nope”, you laughed. “He isn’t a bad kisser. And I am here to let you know we’re leaving.” 

She let out a squeal, turning to Rooster to mouth ‘Told you so’ and watch him shrug with a grin before turning back. 

“You go get it. This is exactly what you need.” 

“And you go get Hawaiian shirt over there”, you teased, regaining some semblance of sanity. This was familiar territory - teasing her about the navy guys she went home with. Not going home with a navy guy yourself. But guess what you were doing? Who would’ve thought. 

Jake came up behind you then, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, looking down at you with that grin that just seemed to be etched into his features at any given moment. 

“Ready to go?”, he asked, somehow taking away your ability to speak again for just a moment as you spotted remains of your lipstick on his mouth. Instead you nodded, debating whether wiping it away would be the right thing to do - because you could very well just keep staring at it, even if you didn’t know just why. 

“Call me in the morning”, she said, pointing her finger at you. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

You snorted as she handed you your jacket and your purse. 

“Does that even exclude anything at all?”

She pretended to be shocked, hurt, but you couldn’t hear what she said anymore because Jake was tugging you away and his laughter filled your ears and his arm around you was just so distracting and because you were basically floating out of the bar, floating until he draped your jacket over your shoulders and hugged you close to keep your warm, floating until his hand brushed circles over your lower back, floating until he kissed down your jaw and floating until he finally ushered you into the uber with a chuckle. 

Floating until he woke up next to you the following morning, a grin on his lips as he combed his hands through your hair and kissed the corner of your mouth and said ‘Good morning’ in the most devastatingly attractive morning voice you’d ever heard. Floating until you knew that you couldn’t let him go again. And then perhaps floating some more. 

[glisten-inthedark]

The Experiment | Part 2

In case y'all missed it, I asked one of my best friends to watch Stranger Things and here's what she had to say about season 1 and 2 .

Now, here's the updated version of season 3 that she finished so fucking fast and I felt guilty because she told me didn't sleep because she was desperate for answers, my sweet summer child.

This time around she'd update me as she watched the episodes and needless to say I woke up today with way too many messages

She's 100% convinced that Mike is gay because she said and I quote: "What teenage boy takes off the hands of his girlfriend like he did?".She also said that Mike should remember that friendships are important too, she doesn't understand why he's avoiding his friends and focusing too much on El.

She loves Max Mayfield BTW (again, sweet summer child). She 100% agrees that El needs to learn how to be herself without the influence of others.

She said that the biggest problem she has with Mike and El is that El didn't even know what a friend was the first season, how can se be in a relationship? However, she does think that if Mike learns how to listen to her they might work it out but she's not sure they should. "Ok I guess they're not going to work it after all" says her after their break up. Also, she was like: "shouldn't he be more upset about this?

In comes the rain fight scene and I think the conversation deserves to be in a mural somewhere. This is what she said and I apologize for the language and for how she talks about Mike but this deserves to be translated in it's entirety because her rant was epic.

"Why. The. Fuck. Was Mike being such an ass?! He used to be so sweet to Will and now he's treating him like this? Hell nah! Like, I get that he wants to spend time with his girlfriend and that's fine, but that doesn't mean he gets to treat Will like this!

And who the fuck said anything about Will not liking girls? Will didn't! So why the fuck would Mike say this completely unprovoked? Like, this is the kind of shit Will's bullies would say! I don't know who the fuck this Mike is, but it's definitely not the kid from last season.

"Oh se he goes to apologize to Will but doesn't apologize to El?" She asked me after she calmed down from her seething rage. "Inch teresting"

"Oh boy, Billy is gonna die. Am I supposed to want him not to?".

"How the fuck did Soviet Union manage to build this entire lab underground without anyone noticing? And this is I'm thr hight of cold war too, makes no sense but what do I know?"

She absolutely adores Robin, she thinks she and Steve will get together.

"Am I supposed to feel bad for Billy?" Needless to say, she doesn't like Billy.

"What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Watching?" She asked during the people turning into slush scene.

"Oh. So I guess Robin and Steve won't get together after all" lmao I laughed.

"Oh they do want me to feel sorry for Billy, huh"

She had a mental breakdown over Hop's "death". She sent an invoice crying and cursing me for bribing her into watching the show.

She also noticed how unresponsive Mike acted after El told him she loved him and was like: "is this boy ok? Like, I'm sorry Bia (my nickname) but you're telling me he just stood there with his eyes opened while she declared her love and kissed him? Am I watching this right? Answer me dammit!" (She was angry when I refused to tell her anything lmao).

Now, bare in mind that I haven't told her about Byler at all, didn't even tell her I ship it because I wanted her to be as unbiased as possible. She told me she had thoughts/theories and I told them to share them even after she claimed she didn't think she was right.

This bellow are her thoughts and hers alone, translated from Brazilian Portuguese to English.

"I just feel like Hop's letter is telling us something about Mike, maybe? Like, how he's afraid of change, of confronting his feelings, maybe? Like, I know you won't tell me, but I don't think this scene is about El leaving at all, I think it's about Will leaving.

"But I have a theory? I don't know, but the scene parallels the scene from when they find Will's body, right? But he comes home and holds his mom and I think this when he realized he has feelings for Will? Maybe? Or at the very least he realized he isn't straight.

" I didn't think Will was gay until I saw his reaction to what Mike said, and I think Will felt that he was stupid for believing that Mike cared for him at all. He destroyed the castle because he lost his childhood, he lost everything when he wasn't even looking, and I also think he called himself stupid because he thinks it was stupid of him to hope Mike could ever think of Will that way.

"I don't think Mike truly loves El, and he's coming to terms with the reason why he doesn't"

She then begged me for information which I refused to give her, obviously. But this is part 2. Now onto the last season *laughs maniacally *

[malehypnofantasy]

Casey pretty much loathed the life he got to endure in uni. The past 3 years has been nothing but hell for him with all the isolation, bullying and the way some of his professors turned out to be major dickhead that either treated him like crap or took credit of his brilliance for themselves when they wouldn't even be able to finish their researches without his help or insight. He hated the fact that despite being smarter then most people, he's overlooked and swept aside just because he doesn't have the authority or the look that could help him gain the spotlight he knew he deserved. Until one eventful night when he turned 21 and his body started to glow in the middle of the night while his jackass of a roommate Ethan slept like a log as he's too spent after fucking his girlfriend like rabbit in the opposite bed.

The following morning, Casey realized that something clearly is different from the way he looked in the mirror. He's more.....radiant, and his eyes sparkled brilliantly under the bathroom light. That's when all in a sudden, Lila, Ethan's girlfriend, appeared right next to him as she opened the bathroom door

"Happy birthday Casey. You probably haven't fully realized it but let me help you out," she said with a rather monotone voice as she suddenly grabbed Casey's head and her eyes started to glow

Flow of memories of ancient practices and secret tradition of his family freely went right into his brain, injected his head with ideas and capability beyond his usual mortal knowledge. His whole body radiantly glow as the memories filled every corner of his body so he could wield the magical power that belong to his family since he's a responsible adult in their eyes upon celebrating his 21st birthday. When Lila eventually dropped to the floor as the messenger that possessed her went away, Casey looked at her with different gaze. The once unapproachable and mean cheerleader co-captain now looked like nothing but a distraction to him, so he forcefully woke her up and made her leave the room with not a single word said. The recently powered magician then turned his attention to his douchebag of a roommate, smirking at his slumbering muscular form that would soon become his plaything

Truth be told, Casey utilized the gym rat's body as his lab rat. He doesn't know how far of a control he can wield and exercise upon other people or what kind of other powers his body can manage, but another messenger from his family already informed him that he doesn't necessarily have the physical prowess to handle too big of a power so he needs to not only train his magic, but also his physique. But before working on his physique, he decided to test how far he can control another people through his words and Ethan came in handy in that regards. Ethan was unaware this whole time that he has been subjected to mind conditioning by Casey. As Casey mentioned his trigger word, Ethan instantly fell asleep despite several seconds before he just intensely cheered for a football team he's rooting for.

Casey then decided to execute his plan as he planted this idea to Ethan that he's been gay all along and he only can get hard while serving Casey. The ideas of girls repulsed him. The idea of disobeying Casey terrified him and his biggest joy in life is to do things in accordance to Casey's order. Casey then told Ethan to also set a "smokescreen" while in public or with other people as to not raise any suspicion and would only be his devoted self when Casey and him are in private or when Casey said his trigger word. As the jock snapped awake from his slumber, his eyes softened upon seeing Casey as he addressed him with respect and slight fear

"Oh Master, very sorry. Did I fall asleep here when you want to watch TV? Please, don't hesitate and sit down here, Sir. I'll scooch to the floor,"

"Calm down, Ethan. No need to do all that. I just wanna ask. Say, aside from me as the all powerful controller, who's the strongest guy in this school that you know?"

"Physically or socially, Sir?"

"Hmmmm...both,"

"The Dean and the Provo----"

"Not them, dummy. The students, I meant,"

"Ohhh the students. The twins in Pike are certainly the craziest in terms of physique, one of them got stabbed and then beaten the shit out of his stabber and 3 other guys----"

"Sounds like a threat,"

"---while socially, Ben Richards clearly bodied everyone. Part of the billionaire Richards retail & real estate family and his uncle is a high-ranked DoD officials, a decorated and highly respected war hero,"

"Not even the frat president, huh?"

"Nah, he's just Ben's pawn. Ben's too lazy to do anything by himself. He'll prefer someone worked it for him,"

"A pawn to do all his bidding, huh?"

"Yep, you got that right,"

"Well, what do you think if we paid a visit to meet Ben, do you know his whereabouts?"

"Not really, but I can ask around,"

"Then ask around. I would like to meet with him in private,"

Read Part 2 here

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 4

Well, @forgottenkanji​ was the only one that suggested a name, but it was really cool, so I decided why not?   Do you know what shovels dig? Graves

Welp, this part has reached over 3k so it’s getting split up. And maybe even an epilogue with that anon’s idea. I know I keep saying we’ll see. But this story has taken life of its own at this point and I’m just putting it out there as it comes.

 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

And here we get to the party apologizing and Eddie bitching out his friends.

*

Eddie had band practice after dinner so he kissed Steve on the cheek a little bit before half-time and left. Steve furrowed his brow a bit when he saw Eddie leave but didn’t say anything.

Eddie arrived at Gareth’s house and hopped out of his van. He was pleased to see that all of the other members of Corroded Coffin were already there. He walked up to them grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You ready to start, man?”

Eddie just stood there with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels.

Jeff looked around Eddie in confusion. “Hey, dude, where’s your guitar?”

“Oh I didn’t bring it,” Eddie replied cheerfully.

The other three shared glances and the muttering began.

“You see I just recently learned that my best friends gave my boyfriend the shovel talk,” Eddie said brightly. “Best friends who really should have known better considering they know my past and that Steve is a hopeless romantic who is a serial monogamist.”

The muttering stopped and silence fell.

“So I’m just stopping by to let you know that because you and several others made my boyfriend so upset he had a breakdown,” Eddie continued in the same cheerful tone, “that if I hear even one word against Steve...” his voice dropped to the dark and wicked tone he used for his villains, “I will gleefully murder your characters in increasingly violent ways and then burn the character sheets. Mm’kay?”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Eddie said. “See you on Saturday!” And then turned on his heel and hopped back into his van. He drove off with a cheery wave.

Once he was gone they all looked at each other in shock.

“Wait, did Eddie say several other shovel talks?” Jeff asked after minutes of stunned silence.

“Did he say breakdown?” Gareth asked.

“Shit.”

*

Steve got into work the following morning only for Robin to throw her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “You just always appear so confident and cool when you’re actually dating that I forgot I know you better than that.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “It hurt Robs,” he murmured. “I thought I was your best friend and you were telling me not break his heart. I just don’t understand why.”

Robin sighed and let go of him. She hopped up onto the counter and crossed her ankles. “Being gay isn’t the same as being bisexual. You have other options if it goes to shit.” Steve’s face soured and she started waving her hands. “Not that I think it will. Of course I don’t! It’s just hard. Not harder. Because believe me I have heard some pretty nasty things people have said about bisexuals from both sides of the aisle. And I just got so wrapped up in the gay aspect of it all that I forgot you have it just as hard.”

He just shrugged and half turned away.

“Shit!” Robin said. “I’m supposed to apologizing and I’m making it worse. I am sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been dismissive when you asked about Eddie breaking your heart. Because of course you’re concerned about that. Especially after Nancy. I just didn’t think it was possible, because Eddie loves you so much.”

Steve nodded.

She jumped off the counter and threw her arms around him again. “You’re my Platonic soulmate and I love you so much. You deserve people looking out for you, too. And I promise that will be me from now on.”

“I love you, too.” He put one hand on her arm as she held him. They stayed like that until a customer came in.

*

When Steve got home from work Will was sitting on his front steps.

“Hey, Will, you been waiting long?” Steve asked as he unlocked the front door.

Will stood up and dusted off his pants. “Nope. I knew when you got off and before you ask, Eddie told me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to just drop by. His was one of the few houses among their friends with air conditioning and the only one with a pool.

“Dustin mentioned he’d be stopping by to apologize,” Will said as he wandered through to the kitchen, “and me and El decided that since you are too nice, one of us will be here to make sure the actually apologize and not hand wave what they did away.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so.”

Sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Steve when to go answer it and Dustin, Mike, and Nancy stood there looking sheepish. Will came out and shook his head.

“That just won’t do,” his said. “Two of you will wait in the front room while one apologizes to Steve. I won’t let you cheat with one person apologizing and thinking it counts for all three of you.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Will’s my favorite.”

Dustin looked devastated. “I’ll go first.”

Will nodded and followed Steve and Dustin to the kitchen and Mike and Nancy went to wait in the front room.

Dustin sat on the bar stool at the counter and Steve got him a soda. Will leaned up against the sink and watched.

Dustin wrapped his hands around it and sighed. “I didn’t know anyone had given you a shovel talk because when we talked about you and Eddie I thought it was just a joke. And I thought, ‘hey I should tell Steve to go easy on Eddie after the bats because he was still healing’ you know. I didn’t realize that you had taken to me that I didn’t trust you with Eddie, honest!”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “All right so maybe yours wasn’t a shovel talk, but you can see why I might think it was, right?”

Dustin nodded. “You’re a good friend, Steve. And I know we don’t tell you enough, but we really do love you.”

Steve pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin cried. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Steve looked over at Will who gave him the thumbs up. Dustin’s was a miscommunication on both their parts.

Dustin exited the kitchen and Nancy came in. She spotted Will standing at the sink and turned to Steve.

“I would rather he not be here for this,” she said, her tone clipped.

“And I would rather have not gotten several shovel talks that took an intervention from your boyfriend to get you people to realize you’d hurt me,” Steve replied. “But here we are.”

She pursed her lips and Will raised an eyebrow at her daring her to press the issue farther.

Nancy decided to take the high road and ignore Will instead. “It was wrong of me to threaten you with my gun collection. I realize that you and Eddie are adults that can make their own decisions.”

Steve and Will looked at each other in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t an apology,” Will said.

“I admitted to being wrong,” Nancy said with a frown. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, right?”

Steve sighed. And that right there was why they never would have worked. “You’re supposed to be sorry that you hurt my feelings, but I’m getting the impression that you aren’t.”

Nancy sighed. “Your feelings were only hurt because there were so many of them. If it was only me or me and a couple of others, you’d be fine.”

“What?!” Will squawked. “That’s not the point!”

“Nance,” Jonathan said from the doorway. They all turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. “This isn’t what we talked about and you know it.”

Nancy looked defeated. She turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about how I treated you. For all of it. Not just the shovel talk thing. You’re a good person. You deserved better than me and when you got him, I was jealous. Of course I love Jonathan.” She turned to him. “I do!” She turned back to Steve. “But you and Eddie have something so special and...” she threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know.”

“So you gave me the shovel talk about not hurting Eddie,” Steve said, “because you were jealous that I was able to find someone better than you?”

“That makes me sound like a horrible person,” she whispered.

“It really does,” Will agreed.

Nancy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “I just wanted you realize how special what you have with Eddie is. And instead of talking to you like an actual adult, I threatened you instead. That was wrong and I am sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug, too. “I think this is why we would have never worked out, Nance. I love you and I think I always will. But sometimes you get lost in your head and let it do all the talking. Which means the people around you get hurt.”

She nodded. “I just want people to hear me that I forget they have feelings, too.”

“Just remember that,” he murmured, “and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay...” she said softly.

Steve gave Nancy a squeeze and then let her go.

Jonathan turned to Will. “El’s here, too. Why don’t you go keep her from murdering Nancy and Dustin while I handle the next one?”

Will wavered and then nodded, following Nancy out to the front room.

Steve watched him go with a frown. “What was that about?”

And then Mike walked in and Steve’s eyes went wide and he mouthed, ‘Oh.’

Mike stood there between Jonathan and Steve looking at the ground and Steve was struck by how much alike the two Wheeler siblings were.

“This should be by far the most interesting of the apologies,” Steve said. “Whatcha got, Wheeler?”

Mike looked up at him a little stunned. “At the meeting...intervention? Fuck I don’t know what to call it. But Jonathan said something that stuck with me. That you haven’t been that stuck up prick in years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan who just shrugged.

“And it got me thinking,” Mike continued. “Why am I so hostile to you? Because you dated Nancy? But that doesn’t makes sense because I don’t treat Jonathan that way.”

“Did you find an answer?” Steve asked.

Mike shook his head. “And that’s when I realized that I was doing it out of habit.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Being a dick was a habit?”

“Being a dick to you was a habit,” Mike corrected. “And that’s not right. Holding a grudge for something you did so long ago and getting mad at you when you said it bothered you? That’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Steve said softly.

Mike cocked his head. “True, but that doesn’t mean I have to actively make it worse.”

Steve nodded appreciatively. “Also true.”

Mike stood up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. But I also was only joking about Eddie. For me it wasn’t serious, but hearing that everyone had given you the shovel talk? Holy shit, man, that wasn’t right. The reason I thought it was a joke was because anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with Eddie knows he doesn’t take shit from anyone. If anyone was going to bury you for being a dick to him, it would be Eddie himself.”

Jonathan and Steve glanced at each other and nodded.

“But after I heard that everyone else had done it and meant it?” Mike continued. “Yeah, that was bullshit. So I’m sorry it got out of hand. I’m sorry if my joke added to your suffering. Because I never meant it hurt. Honest.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I see where you’re coming from and I accept your apology.”

Mike stood there awkwardly tugging at his shirt hem. “Can I get a hug, too?”

Steve smiled and stepped up to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike sighed and leaned into the hug. He didn’t return the hug, but just stood there enjoying the warmth.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He sniffled and then turned to Jonathan. “You won’t tell Nancy about this, will you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Steve nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone shit, man.”

Mike relaxed. “Right. Thanks.”

And he shuffled back to the front room, still sniffling.

“That was certainly something,” Jonathan said after a moment.

Steve chuckled shaking his head. “Those Wheeler kids, whew.”

Jonathan laughed. “Happy to have dodged that bullet?”

“You have no idea, man,” Steve said. “You have no idea.”

***

Part Five  Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03

[uselesslexbian]

bottoms (2023) sentence starters.

we've looked like shit for years, and we are developing.

we're finally hot. at least, according to me.

nobody's going to want to fuck me this year, just like nobody wanted to fuck me last year or the year before.

i've been building tension.

i'm playing the long game with her, okay?

what the fuck happened to her?

that made me so sad. what?

i don't need this negative, really sad attitude. please.

what the fuck are you wearing?

nobody hates us for being gay. everyone hates us for being gay, untalented, and ugly.

oh my god, she ate shit is what happened.

she ate literal shit? what the fuck?

or did you get beat up again?

yeah, we went to juvie.

i don't want to say it, but we're fucked!

why do you always have to flirt with other women?

it doesn't count if they're not in high school.

would you like a safety ride?

i'm sorry that i looked at mrs. reilly and lightly grazed her left tit, alright?

don't talk to me, you ugly bitch, okay? i do not talk to girls in overalls.

okay, i might be ugly, but these aren't overalls.

you're being really mean right now.

i heard you, like, beat up my boyfriend last night?

maybe i SHOULD buy a gun.

what? don't buy a gun. nobody said buy a gun.

guys do that all the time, okay? that's the point of feminism.

that's not the point of feminism. you also don't care about feminism.

why would you lie to me?

so you killed a girl?

i know how to take a punch.

i was thinking, if they were coming at me with, like, swords and, like, knives, and like, guns and stuff, and you taught me how to punch like that, then i wouldn't die.

can i be honest? you're a person who's not coping with what's going on.

sometimes, when you have a new hobby, don't show up.

that's my favorite way to be an ally. you just say you're doing something, and then you don't do any of those things.

my dad left me, and i'm incredibly punctual.

i'm gonna finally reverse-stalk my stalker.

i'll be able to kill my stepdad.

i love talking about my trauma.

i literally jack off after every single therapy session.

yeah, well, all women are hot to me.

we had to just, like, fight people, sometimes to the death.

i still hear their screams at night, and that guilt will probably shackle me forever.

i realize now, i don't have to be that person anymore. i don't have to just let things happen to me.

i just get the hot people confused. jesus.

i can't answer that question, because i don't know how to read.

no, i would never cheat on you again, okay?

what about, like, a bomb? like a super small bomb. they're super easy to make.

yeah, let's do terrorism.

don't get distracted, 'cause we can be fined like $2 for this.

i really value when people use violence and raise their voices for me. it's actually one of my love languages.

no, leave the skin on his face, will you?

i'm not a fucking idiot. i just look like this.

man, i knew women were evil.

all of the blame just goes on me, then? like, none of this can be traced back to you at all?

i didn't want to do this from the beginning. you know that.

does it even matter? do you even care? do you actually like her? do you care about anyone other than yourself?

do you care about anyone other than yourself?

just find some other girl to jack off to and do nothing about.

if you don't wanna borrow firearms, then why are you here?

sorry, people didn't know you're gay?

i never had many friends, and that's sad. and as i've gotten older in this world, it's just gotten more sad.

okay, well, obviously, why would you lay it out like that? because it sounds insane.

i'm sorry for saying that you have no friends really loud in front of all of your friends.

i'm sorry for being an asshole a lot of the time. most of the time. all of the time.

that is obviously a red flag. are we not reading that as a red flag? that's crazy.

oh, now you want a bomb.

in your fucking dreams, which you don't deserve to have. when you sleep, it should just be like, total darkness.

i do want to say... i feel like you killed that guy.

we killed a lot of guys. we'll process it later.

you didn't have to start a whole fight club just to date me. you could have just talked to me.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

In Every Reflection I Hope You Wish Me A Sweet Birthday

MY QUEEN MY LOVE MY -screams in reine qui danse playing for the 100th time-

Rated T | Warnings: None its gay

You smiled when she left you. In every reflection peering into infinite lives branching from broken shards of her perfect kingdom, you always smile when she lives.

Always days after her birthday, when she is young enough to have her beauty but old enough to be sent away to be married. You are by her side from the beginning to the end when she leaves you brokenhearted but smiling for her.

The False Hope, is what they call it when she shifts the mirrors to create her ideal kingdom. They will try to shatter her image but will only make her stronger, a broken mirror is still useful in pieces. They can reflect and cut.

In another world, she dies and you are married, you still smile when she breaks your heart and steps on it while announcing her engagement at a party you planned for her all month. When you are alone, Mary sees you crying as you cling to your chest as the heart is often fragile as glass. Mary once more leaves, and you move on to survive.

She must find you! Find you at the right moment and take you into this perfect forever paradise!

On a rainy day, you stand over her grave in the pouring rain. You have a pile of letters in your hand, unsent letters, and flowers in your other hand.

“Happy birthday, Mary. I'm sorry I… We couldn't see each other. These aren't much but… I wanted to send these… But… you know why I couldn't.”

Because it makes her face the reality she loved only you, and will only love you. There is never a world, a reflection, where she does not give you her honest brightest smile. When you would find her alone and entertain her with idle chatter of gossip or your latest painting always showing your improvement.

The unfinished masterpiece of a sculpture… Destroyed always before you could finish it. It is always a connection to her destroyed when you let go of the hope of seeing her, waiting for later, praying to see her walk through the doors of your atelier.

She finds the reflection, the long mirror you keep to the side of the room, it is used for reflecting light, making self-portraits, or using yourself as a reference for a pose.

Covered in paints, you are hard at work on a large canvas.

The commission from her husband. It had been salt upon a wound he had no idea about, though if he did he would still have you create the piece.

It is her birthday, you just now finish the piece on a grand scale, and it will be picked up to be taken to the palace. And Mary will cry over it, it becomes the only piece of art she will ever care about. Her emotional attachment to it will spark a rumor of her narcissism, few will say the artist was her past lover but none put weight to those words.

She loves you. Loves you more than you know.

It is nighttime and you are drinking cheap wine, you are sitting by the open window, the fall breeze is warm, and the sound of celebration for the queen. You have two glasses out on the small table you use to place your paints, both glasses full of cheap wine with hints of strawberry, your glass is almost as empty as your broken heart.

I found you, my love.

You rub your swollen eyes from crying, the atelier empty without the canvas of her. Your first love— True love— She stole your heart with her smile and sweet voice. Mary never once allowed you a moment to not be in the same room as her, to have her perfume linger; she was your Helen of Troy, and you the fool Paris. To be loved by a star, a muse to paint or sculpt a thousand pieces, and to be adored the way she deserved.

Look upon me once more, my love.

You laugh humorously as you swear you can hear her, the sweet voice of your Helen of Troy, God, you only have drank a glass. Looking at the bottle, you reach out for—

Name!

You stand up knocking over the bottle and spilling it all over the table and floor, in a state of shock, you stand there frozen. The voice was louder, you swore you saw her image in the glass bottle! No, you are simply delusional… You should not have taken that commission! Now you are once more miserable! Fresh tears spill, streaming down your face, you turn your head away as your lips press together to try to stop the whimper of agony from turning into an angsty scream.

My love, your fragile heart. Give me the pieces, this time I shall now shatter them.

“You are cruel,” Shaking your head, “Will you not allow me to be a broken-hearted fool in peace!” You had not meant to shout your pain, “Go away! Haunt me when you're dead!” You snap open your eyes ready to throw your glass at the mirror then stop mid-motion of your swing.

“My artist.” There she is dressed in a gown of spectacular beauty with a crown upon her head, you rub your eyes with your free hand and then blink. Her smile widened, “Come to me, allow me to free you of this pain I caused.”

You take a step forward, then another, her hand stretched out towards you. In dazzling lights you see her hand coming out of your mirror. “Are you… Please be real. If this is a dream then let death claim me now for I do not wish to wake up.”

“I am real. If you come with me now, only my love will claim you.”

Her love is like the fresh strawberries, lace stocking; her eyes locked on you as modeled for you wearing nothing but a strawberry in her mouth and lace stocking, her finger beckoning you to join her on a nest of sheets. Never has a woman charmed you to the point of enslaving your heart, her every word had you on your knees to please her.

You quickly go to her and take her hand, “Mary!” Once more you give her your heart with the pieces. She pulls you into the mirror, pulls you into her arms where you are meant to be.

Later days after the party, in the newspapers, there will be a report about an artist gone missing. There is only a shattered mirror in your atelier.

[sylvies-chen]

ooooh the long awaited amsterdam episode!! let’s get right on into it folks, with…

TED LASSO 3.06 THOUGHTS

jamie and roy were really the shining stars of this episode to me on both the comedy front and the emotional front. they really were able to break through to each other in fun but kind ways and I love. I cannot stress that enough, LOVE. that jamie taught roy how to ride a bike. this sibling energy (or maybe something more if that’s your fancy) is everything to me

but you know who was an unsung hero of this episode too? DANI ROJAS. as always my baby had THE cutest contributions to the discussion and his lines got some very solid giggles from me

ok, now on to the tedbecca front…

so it was not at all what we expected. so what? are we gonna worry ourselves about this? HELL THE FUCK NO. like I’m sorry, it was a nice moment she had with that man but like… you want me to call tod on tedbecca over a man… whose name she never learned??? LAME. try again, cause that shit isn’t stopping me from my delusion nor is it worrying me

like sorry I’m just not over this so I’m gonna keep adding more— if they were trying to tell us that this guy was *it* for rebecca, in ANY way, they would have had her show even the faintest interest in seeing this man again. but nope! she was fine with leaving! some things can be beautiful being short-lived. they did their thing, and now they’re moving on.

rebecca singing to ted was also adorable and uh y’all we literally had ted fully admit to TEXTING HER TWELVE TIMES UNANSWERED?? that is simp behaviour if I ever saw it!! they’re still strong baby don’t even sweat it

now that I’ve got that off my chest… COLIN! GAY TRENT! THE LONG AWAITED CHAT!! Ooh my god this is so good I was so incredibly happy that they confirmed trent is gay and that they didn’t take the creepy route with it of him outing colin but instead said “oh a baby gay, as a seasoned gay let me just adopt him real quick” and proceeded to listen to his problems and offer real support and mentorship from one gay man to another. they found a space within each other to be who they truly are and I am so here for it. colin isn’t ashamed of who he is, he’s just conflicted about tmerging these two sides of his identity!

also the way he described it as an ache… an ache, y’all. I cried deep queer tears at that.

as for how this might play out with trent’s book though… remains to be seen I guess 👀

the pillow fight was adorable and I had been wanting to see that since the mention of it in season 1 but in terms of episode length, I feel like that whole storyline of deciding what to do could have been scrapped. a lot of the pacing issues with this episode could have been avoided that way, but I still liked it so idc

TED FINALLY GETTING A BREAKTHROUGH AND BEING GOOD AT HIS JOB THANK GOD

roy needs to realize that instead of thinking he doesn’t deserve keeley, to just shut that train of thought down and work to actually become a man keeley deserves. that’s it. that’s all. and it’s going to happen!

all in all, I do get why this episode could be quite polarizing and the pacing was very inconsistent but overall I quite enjoyed it!!

[twopoppies]

"I would like Harry to be remembered for his great songwriting skills, his voice and the great performer he is, but everything is so overshadowed by the rest that in 20, 30 years I don't know if he will be remembered as one of the greatest of our generation (and he deserves it so much). I just think there's too much noise overshadowing his music"

I'm the say ranting anon as yesterday and I was gonna leave it at that but I saw this and I think is an interesting topic so I'm gonna rant a little bit more (sorry in advance).

It's impossible for anyone to know how is Harry gonna be remembered 30 years from now but what we can do is trying to compare him with the artist we consider legends today.

Lets take Elton John, Freddy Mercury, Prince, George Michael, Madonna, Whitney Houston and David Bowie for example... Each and every single one of them is considered a legend, the most successful in their field, the ones current artist use as inspiration and what they aspire to be. You know what else they have in common? Careers full of rumors, cheating scandals, drugs scandals, gay scandals, failed marriages, fake marriages, money problems, etc, etc, etc.

But those are no the things they're remember for, at the end their music and their art is soo good and made such an impact that all the "noise" sorrounding their careers just take a passive role.

I mean, as a fan, leaving through the rumors and all the nonsense is annoying as fuck and I would love if when I spoke about Harry people ONLY asked me about his music because he is so much more than his supposed girlfriends but what can I do?

And of course it is possible to be successful in the industry without playing the game, I wasn't trying to imply Zayn isn't but there's levels to that success, at least in the eyes of the general public.

Like let's be honest, all 5 of the boys has had a successful solo career so far but which one of them is more likely to achieve the legend status your anon is talking about??? Everyone under the sun knows the answer is Harry.

And why is that? It's not because he's has a powerful voice or because he's an excellent lyricist or because he's and incredible performer. Of course he's all that. But the reason he has achieved so much and is probably get the legend status someday is because how his team has marketed him. I'm sorry but without Columbia and the azzoffs Harry wouldn't be where he is today 🤷‍♀️ They're horrible people but they sure as hell know what they're doing and Harry is happy with their job and where his career is going so...

Yep. Marketing really does make a difference.

There’s something unquantifiable about the artists you mention, though. Take Madonna, for example. Cyndi Lauper came out at the same time. She had a much better voice. Her singles were huge. She had a great look. She definitely had fans (still does), but Madonna had that extra something that drew the masses in and kept them there (and oh my god did she have scandals and gossip galore—some of them very purposely manufactured).

And I agree with you about the Azoffs/Sony/Harry’s team. They’re taking him where he wants to go.

In reference to this

[star-kissed583]

Prideful event | Dark + Yandere

Summary: “ Yandere stood in front of Dark, having puppy dog eyes as she stood holding a hair brush and some hair ties.”

Yandere every year goes to the pride event in the city, usually going with Wilford. But now with Wilford out of state for a while, she’s determined to convince her mom, Dark, to come with her this year.

——————————————————————————————

| 3rd Person POV |

Dark was sitting in his office, simply finishing some files that he had left.

Papers were strewn about on the desk-yet there was a three picture frame sitting on his desk that was protected from the mess.

One of the pictures was of him and Wilford and a little boy, Yandere, that was being cradled in Dark's arms.

The second picture was of Wilford and the little Yan during Christmas time. Wilford was dressed like an elf while Yandere had a Christmas dress on with a Santa hat. Yan had basically begged to get that dress.

The last picture-Yandere had taken the pic. It was of Dark and her out in a park for a picnic. She was already grown as a teenager girl. Both had flower crowns on that Yandere had made.

Dark glanced at the picture frame with a soft smile.

Until suddenly his door was slammed open.

In came a teenage girl running. Her trans colored skirt fluttering softly while her hair was in a loose.

"Mom!!" The girl, Yandere, giggles happily.

Dark sighs and turns to his daughter, "How many times do I have to tell you not to slam my door? What's so urgent?"

"Well, since papa isn't in state right now-he can't go to the pride event happening in the city with me. So can you come with me? Pleeease!!"

Yandere stood in front of Dark, having puppy dog eyes as she stood holding a hair brush and some hair ties.

"I'm sorry princess but I don't think I can. I have a lot to work on-". Dark tried explaining

"You only came to one once! C'mon mom! It will be fun! You'll love it!"

"Princess, I would love to but I have all this work to do" Dark looks at his daughter, seeing her pout.

"Can you at least do my hair??" Yan asked, holding up some hair ties and a brush.

Dark was about to reject again, only to see her puppy dog eyes once more. With a sigh, he nods and stands up. He lets Yan sit on his chair while he grabs the items, "Why don't you call your dad while I do this. A braid correct?"

Yan nods, pulling up Dark's computer and FaceTiming Wilford.

After a couple of rings, Will responded with a bright smile, "Oh my two darlings! How are ya?!"

Dark smiles softly, "Hello Will" he responds as they worked on Dutch braiding Yan's hair-letting Yan speak about her day.

"-And today is the annual pride event in the city!"

"Oh sounds like fun, I'm assuming Dark and you are gonna go together this year!"

"Well...mom says he can't go cause of 'work'!" Yan gave a sad pout as she huffs softly.

Wilford stops doing whatever he was doing and looks at the screen, "Really? Now Darkling, why would you say that! Why not take a break and go out with our girl! You deserve a break"

Yandere turned to look at Dark with pleading eyes, seeing the internal conflict of her mom.

After a bit of thought, Dark sighs and nods, "alright fine...we'll go" he mumbles but smiles at seeing how excited Yandere got.

Wilford chuckles, "Take pictures for me and tell me how it goes. I'll leave you two to get ready" he says, saying goodbye to his daughter and husband before hanging up.

Dark smiles as he shakes his head, "Let me put things away and we can get ready"

Yandere clapped her hands, helping Dark tidy up the desk.

When they both were finally ready to leave, Dark's body had shifted just a little. They fixed the suit they had on, making sure the pins that Yandere gave them showed. It was the gender-fluid flag and a gay flag.

Dark had driven them to the city in their fancy car. It was a struggle to find a parking spot-but finally they did. Along the way to the event, Yandere was in charge of the music. Dark always had an interest to hear what type of music their daughter liked.

Getting out of the car, Dark saw the bright happy smile of Yandere. She grabbed their wrist, happily leading them to the festival.

Entering the event, it was a splash of colors and loud music. It almost convinced them to back out, but seeing how excited Yandere seemed made them stay. Dark let their daughter direct them around, buying her anything she wanted.

A Yelp escaped Dark when suddenly Yandere's arm wrapped around their shoulders, seeing she was holding a camera in front of the two.

"Picture mom! I want to hang this up on my bedroom with my other family pics!"

"Alright, anything ya want hon."

And Dark smiled, allowing the camera to capture the moment.

Even though Dark resisted to come to the event before-they didn't regret joining their daughter to the event. On Dark's desk sat a new picture in a small, rose gold picture frame.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Thank you!

48 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

 Would that feel more like a trauma response to the end of times and less like a betrayal? Eddie can’t say. His remaining feeling of owing her fidelity, despite years of estrangement, ended when he left that damn apartment, to find no trace of her. 

“I’m gay, Shannon,” he says. “I’m sorry that’s how you found out. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t do anything with him until I really thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s all a consolation, actually.”

That throws Eddie for a loop. “What?”

She shrugs. “It’s kind of a relief, honestly. Things always seemed… I don’t know. I guess I was always worried there was something about me that you couldn’t love fully.”

Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“No,” he insists. “Shannon, no. It wasn’t you. It was never you. I always loved… I do love you, Shannon. Just not the way you deserve to be loved by a romantic partner. I’m sorry.”

She nods. “Well… It’s not like it’s completely one-sided, anyway.”

No. It wasn’t. Eddie did a lot of shit. Was a definite problem. But even when he wasn’t there, he never disappeared. 

Eddie doesn’t say any of that, though. He just takes a deep breath. 

“So he’s your… Boyfriend?” Shannon asks. 

Eddie shakes his head. “No, we just… It was impulsive.”

“Ah,” she nods.

“Sorry. I didn’t think it was… Cheating.” 

“It’s not,” Shannon concedes. “Sorry, I reacted like it was. I was… Well, shocked.”

---

39 for 🪞:

---

“I… Sorry,” he says. “Don’t mean to bring down the mood.”

“You aren’t,” Buck says. “I miss him.”

Eddie swallows, Adam’s Apple bobbing. “Me too.”

▪️▪️▪️

Buck tries talking to Dove after work. They’re home, just them. Both of them are exhausted, for different reasons. Buck promises her a quiet afternoon and movies on the couch. Which works, because he needs to do research into signing her up for swimming lessons, anyway. He found out recently she doesn’t know how, and he think it's an important life skill. You never know when a tsunami will hit. 

They’re sitting on the couch, side by side. Buck is flicking through movie options for her. She’s cuddled up a bit closer to him than usual. Still clingy like she was this morning. He has an arm around her, holding her close. He wants her to feel safe, if she was having nightmares. 

With that thought in mind, he stops scrolling for movies and asks. 

“Dove, honey,” he says. “What were your nightmares about?"

She gives him a sort of unimpressed look. Like she wishes they could just get on with Moana and leave it be. Well, tough luck. He’s concerned.

“I don’t know,” she says firmly.

“You don’t know?” Buck asks. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Uh huh.”

“I see,” he says. “Well, that’s too bad.”

She doesn’t bite.

“If you did remember,” he says. “Then maybe we could talk about how to make it less scary if it happened again.”

“Less scary?” She asks. 

---

24 for 🔼:

---

Shannon ends up talking to Maddie about it. Maddie comes over for tea the day after her first appointment. 

It’s not that Maddie is the expert in therapy or anything. She’s just the person with the most of it under her belt that Shannon knows. Which isn’t a ton, she supposes. And it’s not even the same as what Shannon is in for. 

“I did a mandatory six weeks of group and individual trauma therapy,” Maddie explains. “After Doug… You know.”

After he kidnapped her and nearly killed Chimney. After she did have to kill him. Yeah. Shannon doesn’t know. But she can imagine. 

“Did it help?” Shannon asks. 

Maddie inhales a little too sharply. “To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Shannon repeats. 

“There were definitely helpful things about it,” Maddie says. “Strategies. Tools to help me think.”

---

18 for 🦮:

---

He’s looking at Buck’s leg. 

Buck is wearing shorts. His prosthetic is very noticeable. It took Buck a while to get comfortable leaving the house like this. He was insecure about people staring. But they usually already stare at the dog, so he got used to it. 

Except now it’s his father. And he looks vaguely ill. 

“You knew already,” Buck accuses. 

“It’s different,” Phillip replies. “Seeing it.”

Buck looks at his mother. Her eyes are anywhere but focused on his left lower leg. 

“Yeah. That was sort of my point the other night,” Buck replies.

“Evan, we are trying things right,” Margaret sighs. “That’s what we came to do. Why are you making it impossible?”

---

24 for ⚡️:

---

And, even after that, it’s not like the timing overlap has to be perfect. They can freeze the embryos and wait for whenever they have a surrogate ready. There’s no rush. 

Still, they make an appointment with themselves, Adriana, and a specialist. Just to get the ball rolling. She and Ravi have a trip to Cabo planned for June, so they book for early July. That gives them months to find a surrogate, if they want to speed things up. Which, they don’t. The surrogate part still isn’t cheap. But, theoretically, if they can make it work, they could be looking at a baby sometime late next year. 

Buck’s trying to be tempered about it. He knows how he gets. He throws his heart into everything, and then he gets hurt when it doesn’t work out. It’s been a problem his whole life. He’s getting better at managing expectations, but he is who he is. He just has to remind himself every day that this is going to be a long process with bumps in the road. Potentially lots of them. Potentially heartbreaking ones, too. 

But that’s fine. It’s going to be fine. Because at the end of it? They’re going to have a kid that is half him and almost half Eddie. As close to half Eddie as a child that is also half him can be. 

[hellwurld]

do u guys ever think about how the partners of those on the qsmp are gods and/or godesses in the lore. unrelated did u know that tommyinnit and tubbo underscore are legally married. just thought that was interesting.

Tubbo is, admittedly, not the best person. 

He’s kind of a bit of a dick. He’s reckless, doesn’t have much regard for his own personal safety, let alone others, and he can be callous and rude and prickly and blunt. He’s not afraid to push buttons, literally or metaphorically, and he can be... explosive. Destructive, even. To say the least.

On further introspection, Tubbo realizes that he’s actually a lot more than a bit of a dick. 

He doesn’t deserve this though. Probably.

Tubbo can’t remember much, but he’s almost entirely sure that he’s done nothing to deserve this. Literally no crime ever committed, ever, is worth this punishment.

“I hate you,” Tubbo sighs, for the ninetieth time in the past four minutes, “I hate you so much.” He pulls off his jacket, slipping his arms out of the sleeves and tossing the jacket in the general direction of the prick that can’t quite leave him alone. Tommy recoils at the jacket thrown across his face suddently, letting out a —incredibly cathartic for Tubbo— squak of surprise. Tubbo stomps away, leaving Tommy to reel away in his overblown, exaggerated horror at Tubbo’s dastardly actions, or whatever.

“This is, quite literally, very homophobic of you, Toby,” Tommy says, all faux-shock and concern, like Tubbo will believe him for a second. “Truly just so homophobic, I’m writing a twitlonger as we speak because Jesus, Toby—”

“You’re not even gay!” Tubbo bites out, left eye twitching. He stomps away, leaviTommy gasps at this, and Tubbo reminds himself that wringing his neck is not an option, despite it looking more and more appealing by the second.

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Tommy argues, walking right on Tubbo’s heels, “You really can’t base things on stereotypes, Toby, it’s incredibly offensive, you know? Just because I look straight and sound straight and act straight and— Oh, hi Em— say I’m straight doesn’t mean I am. What about me is straight to you?”

“Well, maybe the girlfriend, if I had to hazard a guess,” Tubbo says sarcastically, “Although I suppose that’s not relevant right now?”

He’s joking, obviously, because it’s very relevant.

“Oh Toby— Toby, Toby, Toby. Sweet, young Toby,” Tommy starts, and Tubbo knows he is not planning on stopping, “Of course, that’s not relevant. I’m talking about our marriage!”

“We’re not married,” Tubbo says, for the one-hundred ninetieth time in the last five minutes. 

“Oh, ho-ho, but we are!” Tommy says, and Tubbo weighs the pros and cons of killing himself rapidly and graphically by throwing himself out of the nearest possible window. The pros are not currently outweighing the cons, but with how this conversation is going, they probably will soon.

“Sign the fucking divorce papers, Tommy,” Tubbo sighs, a little angry about how long this has been going on for, but mostly tired and resigned. And angry, because Tommy’s neck is looking so, so wringable right now, but mostly tired.

Tommy just laughs, and disappears in that frustrating, echoey way they all do. Em’s never far behind him, but Tubbo dispairingly turns to her at the kitchen counter anyway, for his own comfort. To her credit, she does offer him a smile, but at best it’s pitying, and at worst it’s amused. Tubbo thinks it might be both.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I think we both know it’s going to take more than that to get him to sign those papers,” Em says, and Tubbo groans.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Tubbo asks, desperate, but knowing the answer anyway.

“Because this way, it’s—”

“One thousand times funnier,” Tubbo finishes for her. He lacks the energy to even attempt to mock Tommy’s tone, but Tubbo hears his voice ringing in his head anyway. Em laughs, and then she disappears too. Tubbo squints at the place where they both were, like if he stares for long enough they will both reappear as reasonable, normal, willing-to-sign-the-divorce-papers sort of people. They don’t, because God hates Tubbo, and the world hates Tubbo, and the universe hates Tubbo.

The only thing that the universe did right was make sure that Tommy didn’t have the foresight to make him sign a prenup. At least Tubbo can get Tommy’s money when he finally signs the divorce papers.

If he ever signs the divorce papers.

Tubbo slams his head against the wall again.

-

Tubbo_: never get married

pactw: ?

Tubbo_: dont do it pac

pactw: ???????

[timaeusterrored]

The first Christmas after the relic incident and Vax actually coherent enough to participate is the first time Kerry gets to talk to Mama Welles and Vik without the space of a hospital or Vax on death’s door.

Vik is really unsure about Kerry, despite his willingness to do anything for Vax. To take care of him in his time of need. Maybe he just saw Vax as something to do. A charity case. He’d get bored once Vax was back on his feet. Though it had been over a year since Vax had gotten down, and Kerry was still here.

Their first Christmas with Kerry in their lives had been bleak. Vax still wasn’t talking and was still unsure if he’d actually make it. But now, he had begged Kerry to actually meet his family. No doctors or threats of death. And Kerry couldn’t help but agree.

Mama Welles was more inclined to give Kerry a chance, watching them from her window as the ‘Diva Rockerboy’ got out of the drivers seat in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, helping Vax out of the car and comfortable on his crutches. The rehabilitation of V had been rough, lots of arguing and tears and stubbornness. But Mama Welles saw her son’s smile when he leaned for a kiss, and the way Kerry held his face like it was the most precious thing he had.

The dinner was nice, Kerry was mostly quietly. The charm couldn’t be on here. And he may be 90 years old, but meeting the parents was still just as stressful as it had been 20 years ago. Especially with the amount of scandals and drama Kerry had been involved in. He wanted these two to trust him with their boy.

Vax was all smiles, his favorite soup, his parents, his partner. It was perfect. Until Vik called him into another room- leaving Kerry alone with Mama Welles.

Mothers were always scarier.

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question. It was stone cold fact. One that Kerry was terrified of. He knew he loved V… but damn he did not wanna admit that. It was supposed to be a fling. Closure for Johnny. Then he saw those sad eyes in the Arasaka shuttle and his brain shut down. All he knew was that he needed V back.

So Kerry nodded. There was no beating around that bush.

“Good. He loves you. I went to a speech therapy session with him and you were all he talked about. It wasn’t even about your music, it was about you. I know more about how your hair feels than I do my own son.” God that kid was such a sweetheart what the fuck?

“He’s a sweet person, Ms. Welles. I’d do anything for him.”

“Oh I know. You got into a legal battle with Arasaka for him. And somehow won?”

Never mess with the gays as Nancy always said.

“I couldn’t lose. I had to win, for him.”

Mama Welles smiled and nodded, then took Kerry’s hand. Despite him being way older than her, he felt a comfort he hadn’t felt since his own mother had last held him… when he was 10.

“I see it in your eyes. You have my blessing. If you ever, Y’know, decide to get married again.” She patted his hand and pulled away when the sound of V’s crutches came back into the house.

“‘M Fuckin’ knee is about to give out.” Vax swore, making Mama Welles look up.

“Language!”

“Sorry mama!” Kerry chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t deserve Vax… no one did. Not a single soul in Night City deserved him.

But Kerry was selfish, and he’d hold onto Vax for as long as possibly.

“I might take you up on that offer.” Kerry whispered, squeezing her hand on the table before going back to his partner.