#that's not exactly a good way to come out to people you want to accept you??

[nezukoo-channn]

— giliw ko (Zayne x F!Reader)

Tags: Non-MC F!Reader x Zayne, Reader isn’t MC, Reader uses/gets addressed w female pronouns (she/her), Spanish colonial AU! Not historically accurate , Zayne, Reader, and Caleb are small children during this (around the ages of 7 to 12), appearances of Zayne and readers' parents, possibly OOC Zayne and Caleb , there are translations (not exactly word by word but I translated it based on what's the most accurate thought behind it, it's italicized beside or after the dialogue) , fluff, children making memories together (kids being kids) , different social classes (note that you and Zayne don't have the same social classes, explains why your family works for him)

A/N: this is my first time writing lnds fanfic so please be kind 🥹. this is the prologue of the main story, there will be a part 2! I haven't written in so long and I haven't written fanfiction for even longer, I'm so sorry for the OOC and the possible errors this fic had, I tried my best to proof read and do some editing and corrections. Any reblogs or form of love is appreciated by me thank you! 💖

Wc: 2.2k words

Dedicated to: @deusfoundry (thank you for being the first person who listened to my idea and supported me throughout its creation, I hope i don't disappoint you 🙇‍♀️)

Taglist for this fic : none yet

Divider by : @saradika-graphics

Prologue

⋆⁺₊❅。

Zayne remembers the first time he met you.

He was seven years old when his mother introduced you. His mother had looked around and asked if any child was perhaps his age who could get along with his quiet personality. Luckily, your mother, one of the maids that helped raised him, had you, a child around his age. As a child, you had long hair, bright eyes that shone under the bright morning light, and skin that glowed under the sun’s comfort. You step forward, bowing to him.

“Y/N.” You say, glancing up at him and stretching out a hand to him, waiting for him to accept it. “Ano ang pangngalan mo?” What's your name?

Zayne takes your hand and hovers his lips against yours. His mother’s eyes widened, surprised by her son’s actions. Meanwhile, yours stares in disbelief at his actions, yet no expression of disdain or anger paints their faces.

“Zayne.” He says, his quiet voice slips out of his tongue. “Ang pangngalan ko ay Zayne, binibining Y/N. Natutuwa kita makilala.” I'm Zayne, Miss Y/N. Nice to meet you.

Zayne remembers your bright laughter.

You shake your head at his introduction, remarking about how formal he sounds for a boy around the same age as you. He tries to defend himself, saying that he wanted to make a good impression and yet, you continue to laugh. You look up to your mother and his, remarking about the way he acted and greeted you out loud. Before your mother can scold you about your mouth and behavior, his laughs.

“Ganyan talaga siya, iha.” His mother remarks about her son’s behavior, “Parehas sila ng ama niya.” He's like that, my dear. Acts a lot like his father.

You nodded at their words, but honestly, you couldn't care any less. You look at Zayne, still standing in front of you. Taking his hand in yours , you made a beeline towards the outside. Your small feet pass through their family’s beautiful garden with various flowers, shrubs, and individuals who helped maintain it.

You stop every once in a while to appreciate its beautiful colors and sweet smells. You take a whiff of Jasmines, grab Santans that fell on the ground below, and carry Plumerias in your spare hand, dragging Zayne behind you at all times.

Past the garden, you weave through the grass and onto the vast plantation fields. It was already late in the morning, the plants tower over your small heads as the sun shines down. There were people working on the fields, making sure that the rice being planted can be eventually harvested once the season comes. You pass through them all, making sure to give way to yourself and your new friend (despite the sighs of the workers, mainly from your father and grandfather).

Meanwhile, inside, your mother and his laughs. “Ganyan ba talaga ang anak mo?” Is she always like this? She asks, her voice in disbelief. She glances outside, their silhouettes already gone. Her question was one of pure genuine curiosity rather than offense. Your mother looks up from what she is doing and nods.

“Opo, Señora. Ganyan talaga ang anak ko.” Yes, she's always like that. Your mother answers and proceeds to resume her cleaning. His mother smiles, giving a nod of approval before leaving.

Zayne remembers what the first few days of his life was with you in the picture.

Most days, he was quiet and observant, kept to himself, liked to read and follow his parents, who were doctors in their small town, everywhere. He observes the way they treat patients, going above and beyond to help others in need in their small barrio. He was exposed to various people of various ages and social classes but would watch from afar, making sure he wouldn’t disturb his parents’ work.

But ever since you came…things slowly changed.

He’d still follow his parents around, but everytime you wanted to play and talk to him, he’d drop what he was doing to accompany you. You laugh, talking to him in what little Spanish and mostly Tagalog you knew and he’d listen along. Most days start early with you helping around the house. Your mother and the other maids would give you little tasks to do, like cleaning up and wiping down the tables to keep you entertained for a while until Zayne was awake and spent the whole day together.

However, your most important task was given by Zayne’s mother, days after you two had met and begun to get along.

“Iha,” Dear His mother calls for you and you approach, dusting your skirt the way you saw your mother and women do when she calls for them.

“Opo, Señora?” Yes , Maam? Your high-pitched voice replies.

“Masaya ka rito? Kumusta kayo ng anak ko? Narinig ko sa ina mo na palaging kayo naglalaro at tinuturuan ka rin niya magbasa?” Are you enjoying it here? How are you and Zayne? I heard from your mother that you two play together often and he's been teaching you how to read?

You nod immediately and begin to ramble about the various activities the two of you like to do together, such as him teaching you how to read and write, and in turn, you teach him to play various kids games you knew and help him slowly break out of his quiet exterior. His mother nods along, smiling at your anecdotes. Once you are done, you realize what happened . You look down at the ground, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Lo..lo siento, Señora…” I'm sorry, Maam. You whisper in apology. She waves her hand, dismissing it. You glance up, and a smile returns to your face.

“Natutuwa ako, iha. Saan magpatuloy ito dahil hindi ko pa nakita na palaging ngumiti ang anak ko.” I'm glad to hear that, my dear. I hope it continues because I haven't seen my son smile so frequently. She smiles before dismissing you off. You thank her before running to Zayne’s room upstairs, ready to start a new day with him.

You remember how you two played with each other.

Your hands intertwined as you ran through the fields. He greets workers a pleasant morning before you continue to drag him along. Far away from the fields, you both reach a small clearing. It was mostly flat, with several trees standing tall to shade you both. There you spend your days together, playing and laughing. Zayne would tease you, and in turn, you tease him back. There were days he’d bring books, teaching you how to read and write your names in the dirt. In turn, you teach him how to climb a tree (which didn’t go as planned) and how to play the games you knew until lunch comes around and you both head back home.

After lunch, the house is silent. You and Zayne find your own small space in a large house to simply do one thing: to take an afternoon nap before playing with each other throughout the afternoon until dinner.

That was your routine everyday. Some other days had exceptions, but it felt exciting as you two played and knew more about each other. You knew that Zayne likes stray kittens or any feline in general, and hates carrots, picking at his food whenever there was the sight of it. It was the exact reason why your grandmother, the one who cooks at his family's, always removed carrots from his meals.

Most of all, you know that you are one of his friends—his only friend maybe, but for the ever quiet and observant Zayne, that was enough.

Besides you being Zayne’s friend, your playmate, a boy around your age named Caleb joined along.

You three did everything together despite your different backgrounds and families. It didn't seem to be a problem as you were children , barely the ages of 10, enjoying what it's like to be children.

However, that all came to an end one afternoon.

You three were playing at your usual spot, with Zayne quietly leaning against the tall tree, Caleb lying down against the blades of grass, laughing , and you, standing over both boys with a large grin on your face. You were gloating about how you finally won against Caleb in a game of tag while he groaned in annoyance , grumbling about your loud and obnoxious behavior.

“Ang ingay…” Zayne grumbles teasingly, “Ano ba ka? Isang bata?” You're so loud...what are you? A baby?

You glance up at him. “At ano ka ba?” You retorted, “Isang matandang tao?” And what are you? An old man?

He sighs.

Silence slowly begins to envelope you three as you join them,  sitting down on the grassy fields. The sun had begun to set, showing a various array of different colors. Red bleeds into orange and yellow, with shades of pink appearing to dot the horizon as well. 

“Aalis ako dito.” I'm leaving. Zayne says. You and Caleb pause, glancing up to him. You stared at him in disbelief,  thinking he was kidding. 

“Huh?!” You and Caleb spit out, staring in disbelief of his words. “Bakit?” Why?

“Pupunta ako sa Maynila…at baka naman sa Europa or sa Asya , hindi ko pa alam—para mag-aral ng medisina.” I'm leaving for Manila, and maybe Europe or other parts of Asia, Im not sure yet— but Im leaving to study medicine one day. Zayne answers.

Manila was a large place, the crown jewel of the Philippines and the seat of Spanish colonial authority. It is the place where people go to and, in turn, leave their families behind for a hope of a better life for them.

Manila is the place where dreamers live, where the tall walls and gates in Intramuros block the rich and known from everyone else.

You remember stories about your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, visiting the city of Manila. You remember how your eyes brightened with excitement as you wanted to know more about her beauty.

Manila is a flame, and all the people flock like moths towards it.

And Europe.

It was even bigger than Manila, a whole continent, even. The seats of Imperial powers. The place that only a lucky few that have the right money and privilege can feel her luxurious embrace.

If Manila was like winning one lottery ticket , then going to Europe was like winning the whole casino.

You and Caleb look at each other. Zayne was leaving. You don't know when you'll see him again, or if you'll ever see him either. You kept a bare face, trying not to let the tears from your eyes fall. Caleb got up from the grass and squeezed your hand.

“Talaga?” Your voice says, almost cracking from the shock. “Aalis ka?” Really? You're leaving?

Zayne nods, confirming his fate.

“Kailan ka babalik?” Will you return? Was your next question.

Zayne shrugs his shoulders. “H…hindi ko alam kung kailan…” I don't know when.

You pause. He wasn't sure when he's coming back. You aren't sure if he's even coming back alive in the first place— would he even remember all the times you played together if he leaves? What if he doesn't come back? You sniffle, trying to wipe the invisible tears from your face.

Caleb was quiet. He stares at Zayne as well. He knows that Zayne leaving would break your heart. He gets up and approaches, pulling you and Zayne into a tight hug.

Zayne didn't know if he'll be able to live with your heart broken for a dream beyond the comforts of the province.

And that's when you started to cry.

You sobbed, staining everyone's clothes with snot as you sniffled. You wiped your tears, grumbling a thing or two about the way you're acting. Tears continue to stream down your face as it becomes hard for you to breathe, your throat closing up from all the tears you exhuasted out. Zayne and Caleb noticed your struggle and step away, giving you the needed space to breathe.

No words were exchanged between you three as you held each other and cried until sun down. You helped wipe each other's tears before looking back at the direction of home and begin to walk home, taking slow steps to absorb one of the last moments you three had together before reality stepped in.

You remembered the day Zayne left.

You were helping your mother and the other women clean the house when Zayne approached you, his father standing a bit farther away. He was dressed up nicely, in clothes similar to boys his age and around his social circle. His hair was done as well, his black strands in place.

You dusted your skirt, pressed the wrinkled ends of your blouse and fixed your messy hair. Your hands still had invisible dust stuck onto them, yet you tried to get rid of it.

It was a stark contrast between the both of you.

A reminder that in the end, he was a son of rich doctors from notable families.

And, there was you. Just an ordinary girl, born to ordinary parents , and set out to live an ordinary life.

At least, in the few years that you knew each other, social classes and privilege never mattered.

“Aalis na ako.” I'm leaving. He says, taking your hand in his. He lowers his lips against it, placing a soft kiss. You wipe a tear from your eye with your other hand, trying not to cry. He lets go of your hand, picking something from his pocket before handing it to you.

You tilt your head, staring at the small thing beneath your palms. It was a small flower, its colors faded. Its beautiful White turned into a soft Brown. The sweet smell laced lightly across its small petals. You held the small flower on the palm of your hand and smiled.

“Ang Ganda…” Its beautiful... You whisper in amazement. He nods, smiling as well.

“Bibigyan kita ng maraming magandang bulaklak sa pagbalik ko…” I'll bring you beautiful flowers when I return..

He promises. His father calls for him, making Zayne look away from you and return to his Father. You waved goodbye to each other, seeing them leave the house and close the door behind them.

You glanced down at the flower again, before placing the dried flower inside your pocket, patting it gently before getting back to work.

[hamliet]

Jentry Chau Vs Netflix

So, I watched Jentry Chau Vs. The Underworld.

If you like beautiful (and unique) animation, complex storytelling, themes of coming of age and grief, and references to my favorite band (shout out NCT127), this is a story you should definitely check out. I would recommend it highly, even though I'm going to critique later on in this review.

Complex People and Complex Love

Gugu was a very complex character whom you could both hate as someone who was clearly manipulating Jentry in an almost unforgivable way after doing the unforgivable to her family. And yet, the series opening literally had Gugu sacrificing her life for Jentry, so no matter what was revealed, you always had to handle the uncomfortable reality that Gugu really loved Jentry.

And therein the series explored complexities in love and life, an understanding that comes with growing up and brings on its own grief. The people who raise us, our heroes, turn out to have their own lives and worlds too, their own motivations, that are often not exactly altruistic. We are not at the center of their world as much as we, as children, thought we were.

Jentry's wrestling with her relationship with Gugu was complex and interesting. The handling of Gugu's character was consistently the best in the series, and I loved it even if I'm still not sure I like Gugu. That's a good character--someone you're left pondering the legacy of.

Grief

Jentry working through her grief was a major theme of the series--grief for her parents, and grief for Gugu, not just in terms of her actually dying (which does happen), but in terms of her understanding of who Gugu was and who her parents were.

Jentry's grief journey contrasts with Gugu's grief for Iris and of course Cheng's for Xiao Lan. Which is why Jentry reaching out and healing her inner child through saving Xiao Lan was ultimately a beautiful way of handling her arc. She saw a child who was scared and didn't know what was going on, and destructive in that pain, and saved her.

If you look at the series, Gugu was scared and didn't fully understand the consequences of her actions and destroyed Jentry's family as a result. Kit was scared and didn't understand how to be human and was destructive in that pain.J entry too grieves Kit and projects that fear onto the possibility of losing Michael, which leads to a rift in their relationship. And some of that fear is not understanding who they wanted to be. To quote C.S. Lewis after the death of his wife:

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. 

Grief and fear intertwine in many ways in Jentry Chau, including through Moonie allowing herself to be possessed by the Mogui to get her husband back. This also then leads to Gugu's second death.

Gugu's farewell at the end had me full-on sobbing. In a sense, Jentry's entire arc throughout the story is a symbolic way of working through her grief for Gugu, settling with her accepting via choosing to focus on Gugu's love for her, and carrying her memory on in a literal form (the necklace). After accepting Gugu loved her, Jentry loses her fear of the underworld and her powers, and her fear of losing the people closest to her as well.

A Soul Is What You Choose

Jentry's ultimate power isn't burning, but it's being able to see people for whom they want to be. Kit and being human. Ed and being scary. Michael and joining the band.

In a world where everyone, demon or human, is trying to be what they think they need to be, trying to please others, Jentry asks them to be who they want to be, to live how they want to live.

The Best Character and the Worst Writing: Kit

Kit is by far the most compelling character. He's continually sympathetic (while Gugu is somewhat not), conflicted, and torn between how desperately he wants to be human and the inhuman acts he believes he has to commit to be one. Plus, he doesn't understand what it means to be human, nor the complexities of human relationships.

The scene where he helps Jentry create a skinsuit is really a metaphorical sex scene--like fairly obviously. It isn't subtle.

It starts in a bedroom (and yes, animators know what they're doing when they choose setting and objects).

Then we have talking about looking under layers.

Then we have some yonic symbols and this.

Like. And he uses a knife (a traditionally phallic symbol), and the next thing we see is cloth falling... with literal the next frame being clothes (ie, clothes coming off).

Sticking a brush (another traditional phallic symbol) in a vat of wet paint (yonic).

Kit: I've never done this before. It's strange. Jentry: I stand by what I said in class. You do have a soul, and you're more human than you know.

Also note the hand clasped position.

It ends with them literally "becoming one" in Kit embodying a Jentry skin to help Jentry uncover the truth--in other words, they help each other be human.

Which is why what happens next really doesn't make storytelling sense, and is actually kinda offensive.

Love Triangle: What Not To Write

The love triangle pretty clearly was supposed to represent Jentry's links to the supernatural (via Kit) and her links to the human world (via Michael). Great potential for a love triangle, a trope I generally hate because it's almost never well done.

This was not well done. What makes it even more frustrating is that it had a ton of potential to be well done via the thematic and symbolic potential.

Having Kit suddenly go aggressive ex who can't take "no" for an answer was lazy writing, nonsensical within the characters they'd set up, and offensive. Offensive, primarily, because you absolutely should never introduce a triggering element like, oh, harassment and controlling men if you don't plan on dealing with it in the story. And they didn't. At all.

The only reason that element was there was to resolve the love triangle in a clear way--oh, Jentry should be with Michael because Kit acted threatening, even though he never had before. That's just bad writing, because if there's a clear choice in a love triangle, you gotta actually write it. Make Michael the more compelling love interest. (More on how they didn't do this later.)

The entire sequence with Kit makes no sense. Jentry tells him he's actually "hundreds of years old," parroting Tumblr-esque anti arguments about Twilight and every other paranormal love story ever. Except, the story had always explicitly framed Kit as a child being abused by Cheng and "parented" by puppets. His journey to understand who he was, that he mattered, that he could be a human too, was clearly a coming-of-age story.

You don't tend to end coming-of-age stories with death, but they did, pretty much because after the threatening scene there was no coming back.

Plus, Jentry's treatment of Kit actually was pretty bad. Now, there's never an excuse for a threatening ex, but--Kit was right about her hypocrisy in terms of how she treated demons like Ed and himself, something that Jentry isn't really asked to reckon with.

If they wanted Jentry to end up with Michael, that's fair, but her decision was taken away from her because they just decided to stamp Kit with a lazy and offensive development and then kill him off in a redemptive death that emphasizes everything that can go wrong with that trope.

Michael Deserved Better

I feel like they didn't know entirely what to do with Michael. He started off with a cool arc, torn between his desire to be a band geek and his talent for football. His indecision leading to conflict with Stella and Jentry was also a great flaw, especially given that he also has visions of the future. An indecisive teenager with precognition has a ton of potential.

But, Michael's arc vanishes after the festival. Instead he's just... kinda there. Jentry chooses him because she wants to be a normal, human girl. But this isn't a good reason, because she's not (and arguably, he's not either!). Yet this isn't unpacked--the idea that everyone in this triangle is both human and supernatural, to varying degrees.

One interesting idea I spotted during the scene where Kit (as Jentry) gets asked out by Michael is that--well, it's a romantic-coded scene with two men, even if Kit turns him down for Jentry.

But it also coming on the heels of the metaphorical sex scene kinda seemed to almost hint at a throuple. Plus the scene after Kit's death where Jentry views them as merging, and where Michael expresses that Jentry views them the same. This would have actually been a very interesting turn for the story to take in future seasons, if they get those (especially since Stella x Tokki is apparently a thing?).

Because ultimately:

Netflix: The True Enemy

Honestly, almost all of the writing flaws I've talked about come down to the writers just not having enough time. If they had a guarantee of further seasons, they wouldn't have needed to rush to finish the love triangle. They wouldn't have needed to kill Kit. They wouldn't have needed to abort Michael's arc and conflict with Stella.

And really, Netflix continues to disappoint me in emphasizing just how much they focus on profits and money over art. They prefer fast food over an actual nutritious meal. They give shows like one season to get record ratings and if they don't, they get axed. Of course writers are going to rush to cram their story into a single season, because there's no guarantee of another season. Series aren't given any leeway to explore their interesting elements, or to find their footing. It's bad for art. However, Warner Bros exists so Netflix can't fully win the crown for worst example of capitalistic corporations killing art just yet.

I continue to be disappointed that series with no actual story that the writers want to tell (merely a concept of a plan) get renewed for seven seasons based on the writer's reputations (that they then tank with their terrible non-writing) while interesting stories with beautiful art and animation, complex ideas on grief and growing up, have to scramble to beg for another season.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hiatus Update

Hey everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and is ready for the next year!

I'm really sorry that I keep falling into a hiatus status, but I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about some things.

No, this isn't an announcement of canceling my AUs or that I'm dropping Twisted Wonderland! I still love the series very much and I still have far too much in mind with the AUs to stop thinking about them so soon! I just wanted to get that out of the way since I realize my lack of content creation lately seems to have worried a few people, and I'd like to apologize to everyone for worrying you all.

That being said, that brings me to my next point, and...it's going to get serious. No TW, it's nothing like that! Just...me speaking my thoughts and realizations. TLDR at the end if you want to skip the ramble!

I've been writing for this blog for...gosh, I think about three years now? It feels less than that for me, but that's a lot of writing done over the years. So many AU ideas, so many asks, so much love for the AUs I've created that--honestly--I almost didn't even start this blog had it not been for some encouragement from a good friend. And I'm glad I did! These past few years have been some of the most creatively liberating times I've had before I ever discovered Twisted Wonderland (would you believe it was originally Leona that made me want to play it despite Malleus being the one that kept popping up in my feed to the point I had to try and figure out what his name was? XD).

Yet despite all that writing and hyper-fixating, I've come to realize and accept that I'm experiencing quite the huge burnout...and I have been for quite a while without realizing or accepting it.

It's not because of any particular wip fic or art that I've been slowing down. The burnout had been happening for a while and just boiled over, and I think as a result...I started doubting myself over time. Doubting that what I was writing was going to be good, or that I'd be able to fulfill everyone's requests or asks in a way that makes them happy or feel that I put as much effort into the writing as I do with others, feeling like I'd be letting people down if I don't make something as long or detailed as some of my other responses, or making promises of grand ideas and not being able to deliver on it. I didn't feel connected to my writing, that it wasn't meant for me to enjoy or feel like I could be part of.

To put it simply, I put far too much pressure on myself, and the lack of feedback or reactions beyond likes on some fics I spent a lot of time and effort on didn't exactly help my mind's relationship with my own writing. Because of that self-imposed pressure, I'd...forgotten what it was like to love my own writing, to enjoy the process for what it was and to feel like I can just write what I want and feel included in my own adventures. Writing consumed me to the point that most days...I'd only be able to stare at the blank screen or my notebooks, the words and scenes in my mind yet unable to string them together in tangible form and yet I felt terrible NOT sitting there trying to write.

It was a pretty vicious cycle I couldn't break until now.

Lately, I've been focusing more on self-care. Not just physical stuff like hygiene or cooking better home meals (though I am doing that), but I mean giving myself other things to enjoy on my self-care wheel.

This is what I mean by the self-care wheel (link to instagram post ). It puts it in a way that makes sense, and I hope it helps someone else as well! Here's a screenshot of the post for those who don't have Instagram.

I've been watching more anime and other shows on streaming services lately, I've been playing other games like World of Warcraft (which has become my current obsession!) among others, and just...essentially breaking up the routine I had where I did nothing but writing, so I could take a break. And honestly? I've been able to write other things again. But this time for myself.

I feel like I'm able to enjoy the process again.

I love my writing again!

But I know better than to just assume that things are okay now and I can jump back into the blog so soon. I don't want to repeat what I had been doing when I thought my burnout was gone and just silently falling into hiatus again. Healing isn't a linear process no matter what it's for, and things won't get better if I don't start being kinder to myself.

So to bring a long story short:

I'm okay. I'll be okay, I just have to remind myself to enjoy more hobbies and interests in my life to make each day more fulfilling--more rounded. And when I come back to Twisted Wonderland, I'll go at my own pace and remember to write for myself too. I'd still love to chat and ramble about it or even about other fandoms or things to try! I've spent far too long building this blog to let it and the wonderful people who have followed and commented and even sent asks and fanart go away, and I want to connect in a way I feel I hadn't been able to in ages. ;;v;;

Remember to take care of yourselves, and find other things to fill your self-care wheel! It'll take time and effort, but I promise that things will start to feel better the more you realize you've got other things to make life worthwhile. 💝

TLDR: I'm okay! I'm just going to be on hiatus for a while longer and working more on self-care to remember to enjoy life as it should be enjoyed. Writing and concept art will resume at my own pace when I feel I'm able to consistently enjoy the process of writing for the fandom again. Would love to ramble and chat about other hobbies and interests and interact with the community though!

[theokusgallery]

I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH

[threadmonster]

I am gonna have an unfun end to pride month so if anyone wants to wish my luck in formally coming out to my mother feel free to do so! (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

[screampied]

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto. 

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending. 

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to. 

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more. 

straight convulsions, 

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still. 

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . . 

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . . 

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself. 

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying. 

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . . 

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours. 

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight. 

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem. 

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure. 

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering. 

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro Notes : Short N Sweet - The power lilith holds <3

Lilith in the 1st - Very strong personalities. Gifted in using the eyes to seduce others. Magnetic. Can fight the demons off of you so please be weary of getting to close if you don't want them to see what hides beneath the surface. There angelic, believe it or not. They're not here to see the world as you see it, they have a taboo personality, yes, but its also because they must learn how to live for themselves and not for anyone else.

Lilith in the 2nd - Cash cow. Can basically get any man to give them what they want. They have to be comfortable in getting under peoples skin, because they can trigger people with how they talk. Insensitive? Not exactly. Just doesn't budge and cares to be 'nice'.

Lilith in the 3rd - Creative freaks. Can use the mind in a million ways, but they still seek out one thing that works for them as they are very passionate people and whatever keeps their attention the most they'll go at it forever. They are use to the attention from people since primary school. So they like to hide a lot. They have a weird mind and they don't care to share it with too many people. If they ever considered writing, they could make some pretty interesting stuff. Sibling rivalries are a thing here.

Lilith in the 4th - Tumulous relationships with family & friends. It's because they're the outcast of the group. I mean, they know a lot and they can't stand for nothing but the truth. But sometimes the truth kills, even when they don't mean for it to be. Can be a hard knock life but they make it worth something. They're no angel, just the universe in the flesh. <3

Lilith in the 5th - Captivating presence. Lovely auras, and amazing bodies. Could be good at dancing. Could be a lil promiscuous. Could be a little dangerous. You never know. Secretive/private about their affairs.. But the stories they have I promise you its like reading a novel. Naturally sensual & can't get enough of them, even if you tried ;)

Lilith in the 6th - Goes hard for groups that aren't seen enough. Can have jealous coworkers or people who want to annoy them and get them out of character. Could also have sensual experiences with co workers. Demands compensation. Could be extremely well liked or hated no in between.

Lilith in the 7th - Spicy individuals. People love to hate them. Could have bisexual allegations from time to time. Most people like to be around them but despise them after a while. Sweet as a pie though, most people allow the rumors to get to them but usually these people are naturally sweet and empathetic. Popular loners.

Lilith in the 8th - Strong personalities. Capable of seeing beyond the veil. Has issues with society due to their daring nature but they do come out ready and swinging. Hypnotic presence. Can heal as much as they can poison, so be careful wit em ;)

Lilith in the 9th - Very beautiful spirits who are the epitome of being carefree. The universe takes them wherever their hearts want to go, and the journey is always something that last a life time. Being connected to someone with this placement could give you the feelings of something amazing. Always hold their hand tight because once their gone its over.

Lilith in the 10th - Dreamy auras. Have a knack for the public and the audience can feel their raw energy. Have haters from all area codes, this just makes them more confident. They know how to appease society well, and they can take on roles that others are too afraid to. This is great placement for lilith to be in.

Lilith in the 11th - Could had to fight to keep their self esteem in check. Due to being outcasted alot, they could of been the scapegoat for a lot of reasons that didn't pertain to them much. With time, they learn to accept that their energy isn't for anyone, and that their value is more than what you can define it. Helpful sweethearts who just wants to be around community that gets them.

Lilith in the 12th - The dream world is a nightmare. My apologies to y'all cause I'm suppose to start it off a little sweet. But this is placement of a witch/warlock. You guys have many gifts that go past the ordinary. And you more than likely come up with some ish down the line. There is a time where you will undergo a lot of spiritual refinement to keep your head going. Don't be afraid of what shows up, it might teach you something!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Kitchen Dances

~500 words

Jason Todd is in love with his best friend. He knows that. Accepts it. Thrilled with it even. The thought nags at him as he watches you dance around the kitchen, singing as you bake some new treat you wanted him to try. The problem is with how to tell you. How do you tell someone you love them? He doesn't really have any good examples to go off.

Bruce tells Selina he loves her by chasing her across all of Gotham only to let her get away. (After he's recovered whatever stolen treasure she's gotten her hands on.) Cute, but you're not exactly robbing any high priced jewelry stores or priceless artifacts.

Dick tells Kori he loves her by cheering while she single handedly takes on an army of goons with ease. Romantic, sure, but like hell is he putting you anywhere near an army of goons.

Tim tells Bernard he loves him by deep diving into his newest conspiracy theory, well thought out rebuttals and anecdotes that lead to hours of conversation. Classy, but not exactly something you're doing.

Damian tells people he loves them by introducing them to his pets, eagerly explaining how he met each animal and how amazing they are. Hm. Better, but Jason doesn't exactly have a surplus of pets at the moment. Should he get a dog? Or a cat? Would you like a cat better?

A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he glances at the ceiling. None of those are good enough for you, none of them show exactly how he feels about you.

He focuses back on the present, on you. He likes the way you're smiling as you sing. But he also likes the way your mouth moves along to the words when you sing. He's smiling the whole time you sway about the kitchen, stealing glances at you. You don't quite notice, enjoying yourself and letting out an excited noise when your favorite song comes on. But he always notices you. Always.

"Dance with me!" Your voice cuts into his thoughts, light and happy.

"I'm not much of a dancer." Jason protests, but he's already on his feet walking to you. Anything you asked for. Anything you want.

He takes your waist in one hand and your hand with the other, fingers curling against soft skin. He spins you around, both of you clumsy dancing along to the beat, laughing as you step on each other's toes and knock into counters.

It's sweet. Perfect even. Maybe this is how he tells you he loves you. In each note of the song, with the light in his eye that always brightens when he sees you. Maybe this is how you both tell each other you love them.

For Jason, that's all he needs right now. Pounding hearts and laughter tucked under the quiet light of your kitchen, the sweet smell of baked goods in the air, safe in the rhythm of your favorite song.

Part Two

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, love your work and can’t wait to see what you do with this. Eddie/reader. Reader is Chrissy’s best friend since childhood. She’s not popular, is more of a nerd and is always overlooked, used or ignored for Chrissy. A school event is coming up and Eddie, who has always seen her, wants to ask her out. Reader gets confused and thinks he wants to ask Chrissy out and wants her help. She’s super insecure. Can Eddie show her his true intentions in time.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Not her, you

Y/N loved having Chrissy as her best friend. She was a sweet girl who'd do anything for Y/N and Y/N would do the same for her. The only struggle she faced was living in Chrissy's shadow.

Y/N wasn't in the same crowd as Chrissy and they were only best friends because they met as children. Chrissy got popular and Y/N wasn't meant to be. She was a nerd, she liked nerdy things and didn't find an interest in sports or clubs.

It was a common occurrence for people to use Y/N to get to Chrissy. Y/N was positive that every guy that has ever talked to her, was interested in getting to Chrissy. Which sucked and knocked Y/N's confidence down to hell but she wasn't going to dread it. Plus Y/N was too shy to have a boyfriend anyway, she'd never go for a guy like she liked. And well no guys liked her.

At least that's what she believes. Unknown to her, Eddie has spent the last two weeks trying to get himself to talk to her. A school carnival was coming up and he wanted to ask her to go with him. He knew he shouldn't be scared. She was nice and shy, it wasn't like she would scream in his face and laugh about it with her friends. But the thought of rejection held him back.

Before he knew it the carnival was happening tomorrow and tonight was his last chance. Chrissy was throwing a party and Eddie knew Y/N would be there. He hoped with liquid courage he could get the damn question out of his head and out his mouth.

~

Y/N grabbed more beers from the garage and set them on the table. The party was loud but luckily mostly everyone was outside. A few loners inside and a few couples who disappeared down the halls.

Y/N kept to herself during the parties. Chrissy often got busy with everyone but always checked in on her. Y/N wasn't much of a partier but she'd never say no to Chrissy.

"Y/N, right?"

Y/N jumped as a voice came from behind her. She held her hand over her chest and turned around. She smiled when she saw Eddie standing there, a red cup in his hand.

"Yes, and Eddie?" She asked to clarify, even though she knew exactly who he was. He was a pretty boy with long hair and a perfect smile. He nodded and she smiled.

"So awesome party, huh?" Eddie asked, cringing at how stupid he sounded. Y/N lightly laughed.

"Um yeah. Not really my scene but it's not horrible," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not well liked so parties aren't my thing," Eddie lightly laughed. He reached behind her to grab a beer. Y/N felt her body stiffen from having him so close to her.

"I wanted to ask you something about the carnival tomorrow," Eddie said, he took a deep breath. He prepared to say it all. Her eyes were waiting for him to continue and he got nervous. The alcohol was wearing off faster than he wanted. He opened his mouth and-

"Are you and Chrissy going?"

He wanted to smack himself

"We are, kinda like a girls' night out," she said with a smile

"Oh that's a bummer, I mean! Good for you guys. Friendship is important. I know it's kinda like a date and couple spot, you know? Maybe it can be a date" Eddie ranted. He blabbed when he was nervous and boy was he nervous.

"I mean I could probably talk to her and rearrange things," Y/N smiled. "If you were interested, I mean. We can have many other girl nights."

Eddie beamed happily, smiling, "Yeah, that would be great. I wrote down my number in hopes I would get this far."

Y/N laughed and accepted the piece of paper.

"It was nice talking to you," Y/N smiled. Eddie waited until she was out of sight before he pumped his fist in victory.

Y/N walked outside in search of Chrissy. She found the pretty blonde standing alone.

"Hey, got something for you," Y/N said, handing the paper over to her. Chrissy smiled and took the paper.

"What's this?" Chrissy asked as she read the number

"Eddie Munson's number. He wants to take you to the carnival on a date. I promise I'm cool with it." Y/N explained.

"Well, I'm not! You've had a crush on him for months. I'm not going on a date with him," Chrissy scoffed.

"Chris, he was so happy when I said I'd rearrange things. Who cares if I have a crush on him. If he likes you, my crush is pointless." Y/N shrugged

"It's not pointless. And I'm not going on this date."

~

The next morning Eddie was beaming with excitement. He was waiting on the phone for hours, waiting for her to call to talk about the details of the date.

When the phone rang, he was fast to answer it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Eddie, It's Chrissy,"

"Oh hi, what's up?" Eddie asked. He was confused as to why Chrissy would be calling him and how she got his number.

"I'm sorry but I can't go on a date with you tonight," Chrissy said, she felt horrible. She was never good at telling people no.

"Date? What date?" Eddie asked, the longer the conversation went on the more confused he became.

"At the carnival? Y/N gave me your number last night at the party," Chrissy explained

"Oh, um, I actually was trying to ask her out. My number was meant for her,"

"That's amazing!" Chrissy squealed, "Grab a pen, I'm giving you her number."

~

Y/N twirled in front of the mirror, terrified for her date.

"You don't have to be nervous! He likes you," Chrissy said as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"But what if doesn't once we are alone together? We've never truly talked. Maybe he'll hate my personality."

"He's going to love your personality! There is nothing to dislike about you,"

Y/N tried to believe her words and tried to boost her confidence as she heard a call pull up. She walked over to her window and saw Eddie walking towards her front door.

"Take a deep breath and have fun," Chrissy said before she sent Y/N out the door.

~

Y/N already was feeling comfortable around Eddie as they arrived at the carnival. She didn't dress up too much but still put a little effort into her appearance. With the amount of compliments Eddie gave her when she opened the door, she felt as if she did a good job.

They walked around the carnival, stopping at a few stands to play games.

"How are you so good at this?" Eddie laughed

He tossed the basketball and it smacked the rim and bounced at him. Y/N smiled as she easily made basket after basket.

"No idea, I don't even do sports," Y/N laughed

"WINNER WINNER!"

The loud alarm blared as the worker reached up and grabbed a small stuffed bear. She smiled as she grabbed it. Her smile grew bigger as she handed the bear to Eddie.

"Isn't the guy supposed to win a prize for the girl?" Eddie joked, but more than happy to take the bear with a smile

"Maybe if he was good at basketball," Y/N teased

Eddie laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Next stand, I'm creaming your ass."

~

After a few hours of winning prizes and spending most of their money, they made their way to the parking lot.

"Want any yet?" Eddie asked as he held his bucket of cotton candy

"Sure," Y/N said as they made it to his van. She went to reach for a piece when Eddie grabbed a piece and fed it to her. She blushed as she leaned in and ate the piece of cotton candy from his fingers.

She felt nervous at how close their faces were. She swallowed the candy but didn't move away. He stared into her eyes, loving the way the moon shined on her.

She gulped as he began to lean in. He closed his eyes and she followed his lead. They moved closer until their lips met. Y/N felt her stomach erupt in butterflies as his lips moved against hers. He moved his right hand to cup her face as his left held the candy.

She wasn't sure what to do but she moved her hands to lay flat on his stomach as she lost herself in the kiss. He tasted of cotton candy and his lips were soft.

She waited until he began to pull away before she did. She kept her hands on his stomach as she opened her eyes and met his brown ones.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Eddie smiled and walked around to open the door for her. She smiled and got into the van. Her fingers touched her lips softly as he closed the door and headed to the driver's side.

The ride was full of laughter and easy conversation. She couldn't remember why she was nervous in the first place. Everything with him felt right and they clicked well.

She felt a little bummed that the night was over as he pulled back into her driveway.

"I had a lot of fun. Thank you," she said. Her voice was so quiet that Eddie barely heard her.

"Thank you for saying yes," he said with a smile, turning to face her. She opened the door but before she got out, she leaned over and softly touched his chin. She slowly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It felt even better than the first one.

She pulled away leaving him wanting more.

"Goodnight, Eddie," she got out of the car and closed the door. Eddie was fast to get out of his van and follow her up to her door.

"Can we do this again, sometime?" He asked, she turned around to look at him.

"Absolutely"

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[4unnyr0se]

❥ moth to a flame | toru oikawa

warnings: timeskip! argentina oikawa, fem! reader, ushijimas ex! reader, alcohol consumption, recording, fingering, making out, HEAVY flirtiny/dirty talk, hickeys, rough sex, multiple orgasms, ushijima hate, exhibitionism, degradation, oikawa is a bitch ass motherfucker

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.1k

a/n: based off of this post right here, i hope i did it justice. also sorry to all the ushijima girlies out there

❥ song: moth to a flame - the weekend

Oikawa really fucking hated Ushjima. He hated how good he was. He hated how he could easily get his ass handed to him on a silver fucking platter. Not that he would ever admit that, of course. The Great King had too much pride ever actually to acknowledge that someone was better than him at volleyball. He knew that the ace was secretly talking behind his back, telling everybody that it was such a shame that Oikawa never went to Shirtatorizawa. Fucking dick, what the hell did he know? He had a dumb face. Ushijima was only useful for hitting balls into the opposing team's court. It’s no wonder he got drafted onto the Alders, no universities would accept him. Now, did Oikawa actually have any proof that Ushijima was dumb? Well, not exactly. But he didn’t need proof, Oikawa knew that already. He fucking hated Wakatoshi Ushijima and anyone that associated with him, including the ace’s pretty little girlfriend.

You were too pretty to be Ushijima’s girlfriend, way too pretty. There was no way someone like you would ever willingly be seen with him, right? He was probably blackmailing you into going out with him and posing for Volleyball Monthly; that’s how Oikawa found out about your little relationship. “Shiratorizawa’s Power Couple” the magazine title proudly boasted, using a photo of you standing a little too close to Ushijima for Oikawa’s liking. The only reason you were even featured was because you were the captain of Shiratorizawa’s cheer squad. Probably the only fucking good thing to come out of that school was you. You were wasted on Ushijima, no matter how well he could treat you. Oikawa was furious; Ushijima had a cute girlfriend, but he didn’t. It didn’t make any sense, right? Oikawa could have any girl he wanted, yet he chose you, someone he couldn’t have. What a mind-fuck that was. 

Ushijima kept dating you after high school, much to Oikawa’s annoyance. Rumors were circulating that you would marry and give birth to the next great generation of volleyball, but Oikawa stopped caring at that point. He started playing for Argentina and decided (begrudgingly) that it was for the best that he stopped obsessing over that one Shiratorizawa cheerleader. That perfect, pretty, popular, and so fucking sexy cheerleader. Oikawa was content with his new life in Argentina, especially knowing he would never have to see you or Ushijima again. Boy, was he wrong. 

The beach was sunny that day, and it was full of people doing whatever they wanted: making out, poorly playing volleyball, making sandcastles, whatever they wanted. Oikawa considered joining in on an amateur volleyball match, but he shrugged it off. They would probably recognize him, and while he enjoyed his fame, he preferred his female fans to his male ones. He instead opted to do what he did best: lie there and look pretty. His muscles rippled in the bronzing sunlight as he observed how the waves of the ocean danced, how the children laughed, and how the seagulls terrorized innocent picnic-havers. It was the best thing ever…until he got bored and wanted a drink. Something light, something with lime and coconut. He didn’t care what as long as it had those two things. 

The bar was unusually empty, which was great. His fame got him a lot of special treatment, but cutting the line at the beach bar was certainly different from them. He gave the bartender his order and gave him the pesos, turning his back to the employee as his drink got mixed. Oikawa zoned out for the better part of it, not thinking of much until he was snapped out of his thoughts by a feminine voice. 

“Virgin margarita, please,” you spoke so sweetly like honey was falling from your lips. Oikawa snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. You, Wakatoshi Ushijima’s girlfriend, were standing a few feet away from him, in the cutest little black bikini he had ever seen. He choked on his saliva, pretending to brush it off as a cough. Fuck, did you notice him? There was no way you didn’t. Whatever, there’s no turning back now. Oikawa plastered his signature smirk onto his handsome features, staring at you through his designer sunglasses.

“Well, if it isn’t Ushijima’s illustrious girlfriend. What brings you to Argentina? Let me guess, he sent you to sign me to the Alders?” his voice was smug, annoyingly smug. 

You groaned and took off your sunglasses, nestling them atop your head. “Okay, you’re so wrong on so many levels,” you placed your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “First of all, I’m not his girlfriend anymore. I broke up with Wakatoshi after he got drafted to the Alders, which probably answers your second question.” the ghost of a smirk dusted your lips. 

“Oh,” Oikawa was momentarily silenced. “But you’re still on a first-name basis?”

“And is that any of your business?”

“Wow, since when was Shiratorizawa’s princess so fucking bitchy? I thought you were Snow White or something,” he scoffed, stepping towards you with his arms crossed. 

“And you’re just as pretentious as people say you are,” you snickered. “For your information, Oikawa, I can act however I want. I broke up with his sorry ass, and I’m not telling you why. God, I can’t believe we’re at the same beach.”

Shit, he liked how you were talking to him. No one had put him down like that long ago, not since Iwaizumi. It was nice…did he like it when girls were mean to him instead of worshipping the ground he walked on?

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me, princess. It’s not my fault you just happen to go to the beach near where I live,” Oikawa scoffed. “What are you even doing in Argentina anyway? What, did university not work out for you back in Miyagi.”

You rolled your eyes. “For your information, asshole, I got into every university I applied to. I just…” you signed, rubbing your temple. “I just needed some time away from that place. Everything reminds me of Wakatoshi. It was just better for me to get away for a while.”

The bartender coughed awkwardly, holding your drinks. You both took them as the employee turned back around, visibly uncomfortable. Oikawa took a sip of the drink, nodding in approval. “So, I take it finding me on this beach wasn’t the most relaxing thing?”

“I thought you were going to be nice to me, but I guess I was wrong since you thought I was still with Wakatoshi,” you sipped your drink, the cool liquid drooling down your chin and onto your breasts. “But…I guess I can forgive you. After all, neither of us went to nationals since Karasuno got number nine and ten, right?” 

Oikawa chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. Fucking Tobio.”

“You know he’s on the Alders as well, right?”

“What? Oh, fucking of course he is,” Oikawa scoffed, placing his drink down at the bar. He looked at your form again, drinking in each curve that your bikini did such a poor job of hiding. Did you wear that thing on purpose to find someone here to fuck? Maybe Ushijima never fucked you right. Maybe he never made you cum. Maybe that’s why you dumped his sorry ass because he was a terrible lover. Oh, wouldn’t that just be a fucking treat?

“So,” Oikawa stared at the ground. “Do you wanna head back to my apartment? It’s within walking distance. Plus, I have drinks that aren’t stupidly overpriced,” he shot the bartender a dirty look. “No offense.”

You thought for a moment, your perfectly manicured finger tapping on your bottom lip. “Sure, that could be fun. Besides,” you leaned forward, exposing your cleavage to the setter. “If Wakatoshi heard about that, he would be so fucking pissed. So why not, hm?”

Holy shit. You were perfect. “Wow,” Oikawa was speechless, which was a rare fucking treat. “And here I thought you were all sweet and innocent,” he casually snaked his arm around your waist, shamelessly feeling your supple skin. “I guess I was wrong.”

“You’re lucky we hate the same person, or else I would have broken your arm off by now,” you snicker, allowing his hand to feel up and down your waist. “Now, where’s your apartment? Let me guess,” you pointed to an expensive-looking building. “Penthouse suite on the top floor right over there?”

“How the hell did you know that?” he raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 

You scoffed, walking in tune with Oikawa. “I mean, it’s painfully obvious. That’s the only apartment complex within comfortable walking distance, and knowing your ego, you probably chose the apartment on the top floor because you think you’re entitled to it, somehow,” you smirked, staring into his milky brown eyes. “Well? How right am I?’

Oikawa frowned, pouting like a baby. “...pretty right…” he mumbled.

“What? I didn’t catch that?” you pretended to cup your ear.

“I said you’re right. Jeez, since when were you this cocky?” he grumbled, pulling you closer to his muscular form. He was ripped, more ripped than he was in the sports magazines from high school. His chest was chiseled, and his shoulders were broad as if he had been sculpted by the gods themselves. You would never admit this to him (not sober, at least), but Oikawa was hot as fuck, even though he was a major brat. 

“I’ve always been this cocky, just not in public,” you looked up at the door of the penthouse apartment complex, the doorknobs brandishing an expensive golden sheen. “Wow, these sure are different than the Miyagi apartments,” you mumbled, rubbing on your arm. Oddly enough, you felt out of place, like you didn’t fit the right tax bracket to be allowed here.

“Well, cutie, I am a professional athlete. I make more than the entire staff does combined,” he bragged, waving to the desk attendant, who had the most annoyed look on her face. Maybe she knew what a dick Oikawa was as well. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, tapping your sandalled shoe against the cool tiling of the lobby. Did he just call you a cutie? You shouldn’t take it personally. He probably did that with every other girl he found attractive. Wait, does that mean he found you attractive? Oh god, did you actually like being flirted with by Toru Oikawa? You slapped your hands over your cheeks, attempting to hide the ever-blooming red blush.

“Are you okay? You look red,” he thought for a second, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Is Shiratorizawa’s Princess blushing?” he leaned forward, smirking as the elevator doors closed. His large and calloused hands pressed against either side of your head, trapping you between the wall and his shirtless frame.

“Shut up!” you slapped him across his cheek, leaving a stinging imprint on his flawless skin. He gasped, massaging his cheek. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

“I haven’t even said anything perverted yet! No one hits me, no one!” he wined, uncaging you from the elevator wall. “You’re feisty,” he mumbled under his breath, something you couldn’t hear.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the elevator door dinged. You both left the elevator and walked to his apartment in silence, your hands massaging your arms as the cold air of the upper floor set in. Rich people have excellent air conditioning. 

“This is it,” Oikawa jiggled his key into the lock, pulling open the mahogany door. “Ladies first,” he winked, making you scoff as you entered the vast apartment. 

“Holy-” your words died on your lips as you took in Oikawa’s living space. How perfect and elegant it was. It was massive, boasting a designer kitchen with beautiful granite countertops and three ovens. Who the hell needs three ovens? “This place is huge! Damn, I forgot how much they pay professional athletes!” 

Oikawa chuckled at your childlike marveling, or perhaps it was envy? Either way, he could get used to you gawking over his wealth. “I know, I know. I’m fucking fantastic,” he strode over to the bar cart, mixing some peach juice and vodka. “I know this isn’t the most manly drink, but beer is so gross. Don’t you agree?” he handed you a glass, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at your tits.

“Oh, totally. Beer is gross,” you took a sip of the drink, smiling at the peach juice hit your tongue. “Oh damn, this is good. Where did you get this?”

“I’m not telling. You could buy out my entire supply!” Oikawa laughed, taking another sip of his beverage. “So,” he leaned against his kitchen counter, staring into your eyes with his half-lidded ones. “What will it take for me to learn why you dumped Ushijima, hm?” his voice was a purr, like a siren trying to lure you into the sea.

You rolled your eyes and sat down on the couch, admiring the tasteful throw pillows he had. “Well, if it gets you to shut up, I’ll tell you,” you patted the seat right next to your own. “You’re lucky I have vodka in me, or else I’d be really bitchy right about now.”

“Who’s saying you aren’t being bitchy?”

You shot him a glare. “Do you wanna know my breakup story or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes and sat next to you, purposefully spreading his muscular thighs. Fuck, he was sexy as hell. “Well? Let’s hear the story, cutie.”

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, locking your eyes on your pedicured feet. “We started dating because one of his teammates said we would look good together. Tendou, I think his name was. He asked me out, but it wasn’t very romantic. He was stoic, unfeeling. I guess he’s always been like that,” you paused, licking your bottom lip. “He was a good boyfriend for the most part, I guess. He was kind, and he supported me in anything I did. It’s just…volleyball was his top priority, not me. And don’t get me wrong, I loved cheerleading. Wakatoshi prioritized sports over his relationship, so I dumped him once he was signed to the Alders.” you looked up at Oikawa, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I’m happy I dumped his sorry ass.”

“Wow,” Oikawa mumbled, setting his drink on the coffee table. “I’m sorry he treated you like that. I always knew he was a piece of shit, and now I have the proof,” he smacked his lips together, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “C’mere, I gotta ask you something else.”

“Do we have to be this close for you to ask me a question?” you raised an eyebrow, secretly enjoying the intimacy.

“Yes,” Oikawa immediately responded. “Answer me this,” his voice dropped to a deep octave, goosebumps covering your arms. “Did he ever make you cum, or did you have to fake it every time?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks. “Well, technically, no, he didn’t make me cum,” you whispered, knowing damn well that Oikawa had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking knew it,” he pulled you impossibly closer, pulling your lip down with his thumb. “Poor little girl, hm? You’re big, strong boyfriend never gave you an orgasm. Did he even know where the clit is?”

You shook your head. “No, I had to show it to him, and he still has never found it.”

“Oh, that’s pathetic. And adorable. To think,” his lips trailed upwards to the cartilage of your ear, nibbling on it. “That a pretty thing like yourself had a boyfriend that wouldn’t give her what she wanted…that’s just tragic, don’t you think so?”

You looked at him, your eyes ablaze. “I guess so. What, did you wanna do something about that?” your hands slid up and down his thigh, dangerously close to his hardening cock. 

“I think I will,” without any warning, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder, slapping you on the ass. You squeaked and were thrown onto his bed, the crisp cotton sheets welcoming your burning skin. Oikawa crawled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head. “I have an idea, something that will piss Ushijima off. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?” he planted a daring kiss on your neck, the aroma of your tropical perfume filling his nostrils. “I know you wanna see him angry, don’t you, cutie?”

Fuck, his words landed right at your core. You squeezed your legs shut, tilting your head to the side so he could plant more of his blazing kisses on your delicate skin. “Mhm, I wanna see him get so mad he does something he’ll regret,” you purr, gasping as Oikawa sank his canines into you. A soft moan fell from your lips, only encouraging him to leave more delicious bruises. He stopped his ministrations, licking his way up to your ear. “I wanna film me fucking your brains out,” his voice was a low rumble, practically dripping with want. “I wanna send him pictures of you covered in my fucking cum with your tits covered in hickeys. That’ll show him, right?” he shamelessly palmed your breast, wanting to tear that slutty bikini off your perfect body.

“Fuck, Oikawa,” you moaned, breaking free from his grasp. “If you’re gonna do that,” you sat on the bed. “We have to be equals in this, or he’ll think you’re fucking me without consent.”

“What? So, no bondage or anything?” he pouted. “Well, I guess that’s fair,” his milky eyes darted to one of his dresser drawers. “I…I have a professional camera in there, as well as a tripod. Don’t fucking ask why I have those, okay? If we’re gonna film a little something for your ex-boyfriend,” he playfully nipped at your ear. “We’re gonna do it right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you chuckled, swatting his hands away as he fumbled with the string of your bikini top. “Nope, you have to undress me on camera. That’ll really piss him off.”

Oikawa smirked, setting up the tripod quickly. How many times did he use that thing? “You sure know him well, don’t you, cutie?” he hit the record button, crawling above you again. The camera was positioned to have the side-view of whatever you two decided to participate in. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the money shot with my phone,” he snickered, hovering his lips above yours. “Now, cutie, do you wanna make a movie with me?”

“Fuck yes,” and his lips were upon yours, ravaging them like he had drank a love potion. They moved in sync with your own, relishing in the mango-flavored chapstick you wore. He kissed you like he owned you from the second he saw you in that slutty bikini. The way his teeth clashed against yours was animalistic in his fight to be dominant, not even asking for entry before shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your wet muscles danced, pulling moan after moan out of your lungs before he pulled away abruptly, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. 

“Gotta fucking catch my breath,” he chuckled. “You kiss like a fucking whore.”

“I bite like one, too,” you smirked, rolling over to straddle Oikawa’s waist. He gasped in confusion before quickly being silenced, the sensation of you harshly sucking on his muscular neck making him whimper. You chuckled, grinding yourself onto his pelvis, your most intimate parts being covered by thin pieces of fabric.

“Fuck, cutie,” Oikawa’s hands squeezed your hips, rolling the fat between his taped fingers. He bucked his hips upwards, making you yelp. “Take off that fucking top now,” he growled, fisting the sheets beneath him impatiently.

You giggled and reached behind your back, undoing the bikini knot teasingly slow. Oikawa knew what you were doing. He’d seen it a million times by now. Usually, he wouldn’t mind. It was just another beach slut taking her time, trying to draw out their experience with the great Toru Oikawa. But this time was different. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted you creaming on his cock the way Ushijima never made you. Besides, there would be a second time. And a third, and a fourth.

His hand cracked against your ass. “Don’t fucking tease me, cutie,” his voice rasped, his hands hungrily grasping onto your tits. “Fucking take this off, or I’ll rip it off of you. Show me those tits, don’t get all shy on me now.”

You squeak, your clit pulsating at the contact. “Fine, whatever you want, baby,” you threw your bikini top across the room, letting your breasts be exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. Oikawa groaned, rolling over so he was on top once more. His mouth found your breast, sucking at the pillowy flesh while his hands rolled over your pert nipple, alternating between each breast. He sucked on your areloas, making sure not to be gentle. He only got more confident with each slutty moan he ripped from your lips, relishing in the incredibly high ones he received when he bit down on your nipple. Your chest was littered with tiny purple circles and covered in his saliva, the desire in your belly practically bubbling over. His cock was painfully hard, pressing against your inner thigh. You swore you could hear it throbbing, begging to fuck your cunt. 

“Oikawa!” you whimpered, grabbing his ashy brown hair and forcefully pulling him away from your chest. “I-I think you marked me enough, right? C’mon,” your hand guided his into your bikini bottom, sighing as his thumb finally found your desperate clit. “I’m so wet down here for you, Oikawa. Don’t you wanna take care of me?”

Your voice was high-pitched like the girls in porn, and Oikawa fucking loved it. You were both putting on a show in shorts. A show to piss off a man that you both despised, but it was a show nonetheless. It's a sexy, depraved show.

“You moan like a fucking slut,” he pushed your bikini to the side, exposing your dripping pussy. Without a second thought, he shoved his middle and ring finger deep inside your heat, curling them slightly. You cried out, arching your back further into the mattress as his other hand still had a firm hold on your breast.

“Oh, you like that, cutie? You like getting finger-fucked by your ex-boyfriend's enemy?” he growled, fucking his fingers in and out of your weeping pussy at a relentless pace. “I wonder what they would say if they saw you like this, a slutty little mess under me. You’re such a whore for my fingers, aren’t you?” his thumb dragged over your clit, his fingers and his arm being so precise in their ministrations. Your pussy squeezed around his digits, feeling your first orgasm in such a long-time approach.

“P-please, Oikawa! Fucking make me cum!” you sobbed, your hands clenching onto the white sheets. You saw stars as your orgasm crashed over you, rolling your head to the side to stare directly into the camera. With your blown-out eyes and bruised lips, you looked fucking ethereal.

“Good fucking girl,” Oikawa popped his fingers in his mouth, tasting your slick. You tasted incredible, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. “Open up,” he ran his finger over your soaked core, gathering up more of your essence to forcefully shove inside your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and you did. Your tongue ran over his fingers while you made direct eye contact with him, making the setter impossibly hard. “Little slut.”

“M’not a slut,” you whined, spreading your legs further apart. You were contradicting yourself. You were on display for him as if his apartment was some kind of brothel. The look in his eyes when he saw your gorgeous body, your thighs still trembling in the aftershocks of your release. Fuck, it really looked like he ripped you straight out of a porno. 

“Then how come you’re spread out like one for me, hm? That pussy’s dripping all over my bed, dirty girl.” he slid off his swimming trunks, his cock slapping against his rock-hard abs. He boasted a proud, sensitive pink tip that was leaking with precum. He pumped his cock a few times before aligning it with your entrance, slapping the head against your clit. “Now, are you gonna beg for me to fuck you better than that pathetic ex-boyfriend of yours ever could?” he looked directly into the camera, mesmerized by the flashing red light. “Better than Ushijima, I’m better than Ushijima.”

“T-Toru!” you whined, pulling him down by his shoulders into a passionate kiss. You stared into the camera as well, giving it a wink. Using Oikawa’s first name would surely make your ex furious. It just had to. “Fuck me! Fuck me better than Wakatoshi ever could!” you sobbed, wrapping your legs around his waist so he had no hope of escaping. Your eyes were wet with fake tears, begging him to ruin you.

“Shit,” he groaned, pushing the head of his cock past your entrance. “That’s what I like to fucking hear.” he slammed his lips down on yours once again, bullying the rest of his throbbing length deep inside your heat. “So fucking tight.” Oikawa hissed at the sight of your greedy pussy sucking him in, his teeth nipping at your lips.

“S’fucking big, Toru! Fuck!” you cried, your nails leaving angry red crescent marks on his back. Oikawa revealed in the pleasure, continuing to make out with you as he fucked you harder, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix occasionally.

“You’ve ever been fucked this hard before, hm?” he bit down on your shoulder, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “No one’s ever fucked this pussy as good before, huh? Fucking answer me, cutie,” his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly. 

You gasped, struggling to take his massive cock and breath at the same time. “No one’s, fuck, no one’s ever fucked me like this before, Toru!” you sobbed, sighing in relief as he let go of your neck.

“So fucking obedient. And you let her dump you, Usjijima? Fucking pathetic,” he rolled his hips against yours, hitting even deeper inside your pussy. His balls slapped against the cleft of your ass, the apartment echoing with lustful moans and squeals. He grabbed your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his cock ravaged your core. 

“Toru, I’m gonna fucking cum!” you sob into his mouth, your nails now leaving furious red scratches down his back. He whined into your mouth, his hips never faltering as they continued their unrelenting and unforgiving speed. Sweat dripped from his brow and into your hair, moan after beautiful moan being ripped from your lips as he fucked you like he owned you, like you were his. It was more than just a revenge fuck, so much more.

“Fucking cum on my cock, cutie. Be a good fucking slut and make a mess on this cock,” he growled into your mouth, pulling on your hair to force your neck to the side. He planted open-mouth kisses as you were pushed over the edge, crying out his name as your release coated his pulsating shaft. 

Fuck, he wasn’t going to last, not at the rate that your pussy was milking him. He eagerly reached for his phone on the mattress, and just as he felt his orgasm approach, he pulled out of your addictive cunt. The camera app was opened, and the record button was pressed, videoing Oikawa desperately fisting his cock before letting out a guttural, almost animalistic roar. His thick, white-hot ropes of cum painted your stomach and fucked out face, some even landing on your lips. Oikawa stopped recording and took several pictures, each with a different angle of your cum-covered curves.

“Gorgeous,” the setter muttered, tossing his phone back onto the now-ruined sheets. He got off the bed and grabbed the camera, winking at the lens as he hit the power button. The light stopped blinking, and Oikawa was satisfied. “Well, you just made your first porno. How do you feel about that, cutie?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s more of a revenge porno than anything, but I liked it,” you averted your gaze. “You’re a good fuck.”

He placed a hand on his hip. “Well, obviously,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, grabbed a box of tissues, and handed them to you. “Clean yourself off. I’ll run you a bath in a minute.”

You needed clarification. “You’re doing aftercare?”

“Why the hell would I not?” he sounded offended. 

“Because you seem like an inconsiderate piece of shit,” your words were so casual, yet so mean. Why did Oikawa crave more?

“I made you cum, didn’t I?” he snatched the box of tissues out of your hand. “Twice, I made you cum twice. That’s more than fucking Ushijima ever could.”

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. It was just an assumption, damn.” you rolled your eyes, stepping off of the bed. “Now, I’m gonna need to borrow a shirt before I get the hell out of here. You kind of ruined my bikini top.”

Oikawa shook his head, placing the camera inside his drawer beside him. “You aren’t going anywhere, not until I’ve gotten as many orgasms as I want out of that slutty little pussy of yours.”

You chuckled darkly and pounced on him, straddling his waist once again. “Only if I get to be on top this time, okay?” you licked his neck. “I wanna see how the Great King reacts to Shiratorizawa’s Princess riding his cock.”

Oikawa grinned and pulled you down for another kiss, his cock already hard. You were in for a long fucking night.

Ushijima woke up to an onslaught of ringing sounds coming from his phone. Groaning, he turned to the side to see who had the balls to be emailing him at 2:56 in the morning. 

His eyes widened as he saw two video attachments, as well as several image attachments, of Oikawa’s cock plunging in and out of his ex-girlfriend's pussy. Her cries and moans quickly filled up his bedroom as Oikawa’s mischievous brown eyes locked with Ushijima’s green ones from behind the screen. He sat up, scrolling through the rest of the attachments. Each image was enough to send him into a rage, but the last one was what got to him. Your head resting on Oikawa’s chest, various hickeys covering your tits and neck as you slept soundly. On the other hand, Oikawa was smirking as he held up the number five with his fingers. Ushijima’s hands cracked his phone, shattering the protective glass.

Toru Oikawa was a smug-ass motherfucker.

[henneseyhoe]

Sunshine

Aaron Pierre x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER:Coffee (Smut) Tea (Fluff), Strawberry Cheesecake (Hair Pulling) , Jelly Filled Donut (Creampie) , Vanilla Beignet (Blind To Love) and a Brownie (Sunny vs Grumpy) served by Terry Richmond.

SUMMARY: Shitty jobs are made worth it cause pretty, funny girls exist!(ig idk chile)

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

“How the hell do you deal with that?”

Was what people would ask Terry when they saw you two together. You were loud, anyone could hear your laugh from miles away and your smile radiated bright happiness that annoyed most, especially in your field of work. You were enthusiastic about nearly everything, seeing the bright side to dark situations that some just couldn’t bear. Maybe that’s why Terry held onto you the way he did. He even gave you the nickname ’Sunshine’ to show.

Everything that was listed, he indeed was not. He was not happy go lucky, he was not enthusiastic about things he had to do and he definitely wasn’t looking on the bright side, for reasons that could probably be justified.

When he was happy, it was mostly because of you. You were best friends (or he was definitely YOUR best friend) and working together in close proximity made it so much easier for Terry to get use to you. It was hard for Terry not to crack a smile when you were constantly in a good mood, bouncing off the walls. You found the spots in him that were soft and poked at them until he gave in, you learned his humor and kept him laughing when he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t lie, he was growing accustomed to being with you, he could even say he loved having you around (he would probably never say that out loud) . He just couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest when you were near, butterflies in his stomach when you made eye contact with him. Little did he know, you felt the same.

Your heart beat down on your rib cage faster than it was on your first mission. You loved a challenge, and Terry was exactly that, testing your abilities to be professional, dangerous, light on your feet, but also keeping your brand of being the happy person you were.

Whenever Terry came into work, even if it was just to train, you were up in his face cracking jokes like you hadn’t just ran two miles. Of course because he was a rank higher than you, he use to send you on about your way the first few times, a little annoyed with your presence and attitude until realizing he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried. You were everywhere and the crew was slowly growing a liking to you too.

You were like a leech, as he would describe. A cuddly and cute one, but a leech nonetheless.

Coming up on the date of the official homecoming for soldiers, it was time to head back to your respective states and you offered Terry a day to spend with just the two of you, enjoying the scenery of downtown and all it had to offer..as friends, Which he accepted after a huff (which was obviously faked, his ass was happy you asked) . Somehow, Terry found himself not wanting to leave when night had came. Something he had NEVER felt before, and he hated it. He hated that he knew it was because of you too, nothing else. Hell, he didn’t even like the state he was in, he was ready to go when he landed.

Babysitting a beer in your hand, you two sit close around the fireplace of your apartment, or what was yours till tomorrow.

“Feel like we been here forever” He breaks the silence, sipping on his drink while staring at the flicker of the fire in front of you both.

You shrug.

“It kinda has been? Seven months, two weeks, five days, and 21 hours is a long time!” You nod, Terry giving you a look before stifling out the chuckle he tried so hard not to free. You smile, satisfied at how easy it was to make him laugh now.

“So!…You ready to go home to the missus?”

Terry raises a brow, swallowing the bitter drink in his mouth. “Missus?”

You hum, waiting for an answer, but he never confirmed.

“Yeah. I mean, you never said anything about a wife or a kid, but I just assumed-“

“Never said because I don’t have” He interrupts, laughing. He couldn’t even imagine what about him gave husband. He didn’t wear a ring, on the right finger at least, and he thought the flirting he did confirmed him to be single already..Or what he thought was flirting. The making sure you ate and drank every day and teasing about how many push ups you could do didn’t really connect the dots for you. You were looking for a more forward approach considering he was a blunt man.

“What the hell about me made you think I was married with a kid?”

You laugh along with him to save yourself the embarrassment. Truthfully, you asked on purpose to see if he was single or not. To your surprise, no one had snatched him up yet.

“I-…I don’t know. I just see a nigga like you and just expect it” You respond, the palms of your hands already sweating. Your body was once again defying you, you felt like you were in highschool again.

Terry’s laugh shrunk until it was no more and his eyebrows rose at your statement. “A nigga like me?”

“…Yeah. Ya know…” You trail off, shyly looking away. By now regret had already set in your stomach for bringing up shit and snooping in his business. It would have been easier to search his name in the database and read his files, keeping your stalker shit on the low.

“Hm…Elaborate, sunshine. I wanna know what that mean” He presses, his squinted eyes searching for yours, but you refused to give in and see what may have been rejection.

“Look” You huff, shaking your head. “I just mean…You are a very handsome man, and I expected you to be…spoken for? Can you even say spoken for when talking about a man?”

You both laugh, but tension was still thick in the air, you just didn’t know what kind of tension it would turn to. Whether sexual or awkward tension, your nerves were getting worse by the second.

Terry on the other hand seemed cool as a cucumber, his tongue subtly tracing the rim of his beer bottle as he thought to himself before taking his last drink, finishing the beverage off.

“I don’t think so, but still. I appreciate that…so”

“So…”

He tilts his head. You could see it all from your peripheral view. His strong presence demanded attention from you. It was like that while working and it happened to never change outside of it.

“You aren’t spoken for?” He asks, his shoulder softly bumping yours to pull an answer quicker.

You shake your head, simultaneously setting down your bottle.

“Not since a year ago. Maybe if it was possible to pack a niggas dick with you when you leave for work, it wouldn’t be inside your bestfriend, right?”

“…You shittin’ me?” He leans, almost shocked that anyone would dare to cheat on you. Not only because of the person you were on the inside, but also because you could be classified as a high threat even while ass naked. That’s just the type of woman he wouldn’t cross, even at his rank.

“Nope, deadass”

“Damn..” He mumbles. “Whatever nigga out here silly enough to let little miss sunshine walk the earth without being right behind her need his ass beat. Shit, i’ll do it for you actually”

You giggle. “You’re silly”

“Nah, I’m serious”

Who knew that conversation alone would end with you getting ate out by someone you considered a friend, someone who you looked up to just a little, someone who just admitted he’d fuck somebody up for you…maybe giving it up was justifiable.

On the couch with your legs spread to each side, you forced yourself to open your eyes and bask in reality as Terry began the journey of taking you apart and putting you back together again. He placed soft kisses around your lips and on your clit before he licked long strings from your entrance, then sucked, earning a soft gasp from you.

His hands gripped your thick thighs while holding them apart, his strength not allowing you to hide from him at all. He wanted to taste all you had to offer, his tongue doing all the hard work slithering inside of your warm walls as his nose nudged your clit. You tensed up with every nudge, watching as he freely put his face in it. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of you, your pussy glistening like he just doused you in oil.

“Look at that, mmm” There was a grumble that came deep from within his throat. His green eyes on you made it so hard not to be bothered even with him not doing anything, your poor clit jumping with excitement as he spread your lips open.

“She happy to see me, huh?”

You moan and nod eagerly, bringing your hand to your mouth to suck on a finger. Terry smiles at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He just wanted to bite you all over.

“Yeah, I know. When the last time you had some?”

“I-I don’t remember” And you truly couldn’t. Nothing worth remembering.

“Yeah? Imma make sure you remember this shit” He ends off with a bite to your thigh, almost as if he was warning you for what’s to come before he dove back into your heat, slurping up your soaked clit. Your belly was doing summersaults, you could barely contain your volume. It seemed Terry didn’t care about his.

When he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned. He was having just as much fun as you.

Your legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, your hands gripping onto the top of his white tank since that was all you had to hold on to after he practically ripped your oversized shirt off of you beforehand, and you feared ruining the couch if you got to pulling on it.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m so close” You struggled to keep your eyes on him even with his staring back up at you, low lidded and dark. They beckoned you to stay, but pleasure had came rolling through like natural disaster and wiped all thought from your brain, leaving you a shaking, blubbering mess.

His mouth pulled off of you and his hand moved in place of it, rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Feel it, baby. Let it happen” He coos as you fight against his hand, thighs closing around his wrist which he just smacked away and kept at it until he felt he was done.

“Stop moving, let that shit happen, baby”

You felt like you were literally about to float to heaven, back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

“Okay! Fuck!”

He moves his hand and allows you to go through the motions, twitching until that special feeling left your center. “Good job, pretty girl” A kiss from him was placed beside your opened mouth as heavy breathing left you.

He gave you time to recover while undressing himself, items of clothing fluttering to the ground until he was in nothing but his shorts.

Your eyes never left his length as it bobbed out of the bottoms. You hadn’t even noticed there was nothing under the shorts till now..So all of that print you were eyeing was all him. He was nothing little, nothing that you had ever seen before and it almost made you ask if that was all of it, hoping he had added something extra, if possible. You wanted to taste him, to lick up the dribbling precum from his tip and test if you could take him in your mouth first, but Terry desperately wanted to be inside you. You protested, pulling him in and stroking his shaft to solicit him into going your way, but he was stern, nearly completely ignoring your advances and lifting you to your feet.

You yelped, legs wobbly from your first orgasm, but you had no need to worry about falling because you were lifted off of your feet as fast as you got on them.

“D-don’t drop me!”

You begged, holding onto him while he bounced you to catch you in the right position to fuck you good, your legs swinging over his arms and his hands cupping your soft ass.

“I gotchu, baby”

He reassured as he kisses your lips. You could smell and taste yourself all on him, slightly sweet and herbal from the beer. All while sucking on his tongue, you felt the tip of him swipe against your entrance, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you were convinced he could hear it, and it was the same for him. He couldn’t wait to feel you, to be connected in other ways than just conversation and friendship. He longed to know what it would be like, and when he got a taste, there was no turning back from then on. Not that he would want to, anyway.

There was no way you were getting away from him. You were strong, but Terry was strong. The man trained relentlessly and always being on his toes payed off at work and apparently in the bedroom too.

Your thighs ached with a burning sensation as he bounced you on his long dick effortlessly, the tip of him kissing your cervix ever so slightly, but he knew good enough not to hit it dead on, fearing hurting you in the process. You appreciate the thoughtfulness, seeing as you were already losing the part of your brain that made thought out decisions.

“So fucking deep!”

You cried out weakly, nails scratching down his broad shoulders, creating red streaks he’d try to hide with a long sleeve the morning after, the feeling of you still dancing on his tongue as he got dressed. He grunts, palms squeezing the fat of your ass as his pace never seemed to falter. He was determined to get you there. To feel you cum around his dick so hard that the neighbors would wonder if you were hurt, that they would think about calling the cops just to check on you.

“Cmon, baby. You a big girl, take this dick like I know you can” He encouraged you sweetly, voice unshaken and stable as if the ribbon of release in the pit of his stomach wasn’t threatening to come undone, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long until he decided to change the position and lay you on your stomach instead, a soft pillow placed underneath your hips to make sure you could meet his height and your ass stayed up right for him. Before he entered back into your warmth, he took his time to spread your cheeks and licking up whatever your pussy had started to drip, earning whiny, pathetic mewls from you.

He licked from your clit to the winking rim of your asshole, the tip of his tongue circling around it before going back down to your sensitive bud, teasingly suckling on it softly.

You drooled into your sheets. You knew you looked so damn stupid right now, but you couldn’t help it with how he was turning you every way but loose.

“Taste so fucking good”

He says from behind you, fully standing now with a hand in your silk press and the other laid directly in the middle of your back to help that arch. He didn’t even have to guide his dick into you, you were so wet and open for him already that all he did was wind his hips back to line up with you and push forward.

You could swear your breath was being sucked out of your lungs with each inch he dropped into you. It felt so good that you could almost ignore him pulling on your hair, forcing your head back to meet him for a slow, nasty kiss.

“Fuck- My hair, Terry!” You whined against his plump lips, one of your hands reaching for his wrist, but the tugging only made it worse for you. The sharp stinging in your scalp oddly satisfied something within you, your clit twitching at the newfound feeling.

“Fuck it. I’ll pay for it” He grunts, his teeth tugging at the bottom of your lip.

You both kissed with teeth and all as he fucked you, your ass loudly clapping back on his toned body with every thrust. He felt every motion of it, the waves clashing with his hips so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but wanna stare.

As he pulled away from your lips, he opted to grab a hold of your throat instead, your moans immediately getting caught.

He made sure to grab you by the part where it was safe to hold, safe enough to where you could still breathe a little, but still got the sensation to feel held.

“Why-“ You managed to choke out, yet you couldn’t finish a sentence.

He cracked an almost cocky smile then moaned out a curse, his dick violently throbbing inside of you and reaching beyond what you thought was gonna be his limit.

“Why what? Spit it out, ma” He teased, his low cut nails almost scratching up the side of your throat when his thrusts got more fluid, the man putting way more wine into every collision.

You began to cry out, him muffling them slightly by letting go of you and pushing your head down into the bed. He only fucked you harder when your arch fell with your hips, your legs giving out as your pussy cried right along with you.

This position had you feeling everything. From the tip of him grazing your gspot to the veins that traveled up his dick and massaged your walls, giving you texture that you never felt before.

Him demanding a word out of you was like speaking to a brick wall. You had already came without warning, now you were just wetting up the sheets with incoherent words spilling from your mouth. He imagined you fucked out under him like this plenty of times before but he never knew it’d feel and look this good.

“Shit! Keep doing that and imma cum” He warns, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to feel him fill you up to the point you were leaking. You began purposely clenching around him, the first squeeze prompting him to lay a smack on your ass, and the second one making his hips stutter against you. He could feel himself becoming lighter, a swirl of heat blooming in the bottom of his stomach.

“Nut in this pussy, baby. Let me feel it, please” You begged hopelessly, doing your best to keep a good hold on his dick until he released with a loud groan, grinding his hips into your ass. You could feel each and every spurt of his cum being released inside you, warmth and fullness is what laid in the bottom of your belly.

“Mmm, fuck” His hips bucked one last time before he was pulling out with a grunt, large hands gripped on your ass and spreading you apart to see what he had done to you.

“So pretty. Push it out” He demanded, and you abided by it, pushing his cum out of you until you no longer felt full.

✮✮✮✮

💌- I’m criiine, this was supposed to be a headcannon too- LMFAOAOA. and yall wonder why i take so long, lawd. i told yall, i cannot do shit right smh. Anyway! i hope you liked this, homegirl 😭 i also managed to get this out before my first college class so hallelujah! *does ring shout*. also this was the longest smut i wrote in a whiiile lmfao. a whole 3k+ words so yaaay! eb clap for henny and wish her luck on this class 😋

[natailiatulls07]

New wag in the paddock

Summary - Being the newest wag in the paddock can be quite daunting but with the right people around you, it's all okay

Warning - None <3

A/n - Slowly easing back into writing?? We'll see lol

-

Walking into the paddock with beyond nerve racking, with photographers just inside of the entrance and fans just outside of the entrance - I had no where to hide or breathe.

Luckily walking alongside me with Rebecca Donaldson, Carlos' partner. Because of our partners friendship, we were close friends. She had become someone who'd help me and become like a sister to me in the paddock and even beyond.

This morning particularly she had come over to mine and Landos suite to help me get ready for my first paddock day just after him and Carlos had left. Helping with picking out a gorgeous dress, helping with my makeup and also my hair. Like my own fairy godmother in a way.

'Wow there's a lot of people here...' I whisper in her direction, my eyes took in the busyness of a Sunday morning race day paddock. Next to me, I feel her laugh - She's used to this.

With a soft nod and a slip of an arm round my back, Rebecca is quick to reply. 'Yep it's a race day in Miami, you'll get used to it...' I feel her gently pushing me along, prompiting me not to run back out and go back to the safety of the hotel.

-

It wasn't long before she dropped me off at the McLaren hospitality. Wishing me good luck with a hug and a warm smile before I stand pathically watching her leave me to defend for myself - Almost like a child would whilst being dropped off for their first day of school. In a sense, it was exactly that; I had been dropped off and know expected to make friends until someone I knew would come and safe me.

I breathe in, turn on my heel and walk quietly into the McLaren hospitality. Inside it's modern and high tech, obviously very well thought out. There are multiple seating areas, some small groups accompanying a couple. I can smell fresh coffee as I walk over to a small sofa, sitting there anxiously.

Opening my phone, I can already see multiple notification from various social platforms. I hazard a guess that they are mostly all gossip sites tagging me in their posts.

But one notification stands out to me.

It's on instagram, informing me that I've been added to a groupchat. More specifically a groupchat for the f1 wags. My heart warms at their consideration and kindness, so this is what it feels like to be in a big friendship group of girls.

Soon a few messages start to load into the chat;

lilymhe - Heyyy Y/n! Welcome to the group, this is a safe space for you always xx

francisca.cgomes - Yeah all the girls are in this group so we all gossip, vent and help out in here! Girls support girls obv <3

carmenmmundt - Hi sweetheart!

kellypiquet - Literally if you need anything, send a quick message here and we'll help always x

alexandrasaintmleux - Babes I just saw the photos, you look STUNNING!!! <333

I don't even the big smile that forms on my lips, the feeling of acceptance heavy on my mind. Accidently I don't notice the person in front of me until I hear a soft cough. Looking up I recogise Lando trainer, Jon, stood waiting patiently with a small smile. I gasp at my oblivion. 'Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! You haven't been stood there long, gosh how oblivious can I get?' I nervously ramble.

I've only met him a hand full of times and to keep him waiting felt very rude of me. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, prompting me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

'No don't worry, I came to get you cause you're boyfriend wants to see you before the race starts...' He explains, watching as I quickly gather my things - I don't want to keep him waiting any longer. 'Hey, no need to rush...' He chuckles, sensing my nerves. It'd be hard not to.

Notable I slow down, no longer rushing to collect myself. I let out a soft sigh, a smile screwing itself onto my lips. And once I have everything, I let Jon lead the way through to Landos garage.

As soon as we walk into the garage, my eyes are immediately drawn to Lando who is stood talking to a few engineers. With his classic smile on his face, something I really do adore is watching as he talks about his job - He really does love it, possible more than me.

I stand there for a few seconds, not wanting to intrude on his conversation. Around me the team work around the garage, clearly buzzing with pre race excitement, nerves and preparation - Something Jon went along with when we arrived.

Then suddenly, I feel eyes on me and I notice Lando walking towards me enthusiastically. As soon as I am in arms reach, I feel his arms slip comfortably around my waist. 'Hi...' I smile, slipping my own arms around his neck. 'How are you doing?'

Lando takes a few seconds, just staring lovingly at me before smirking. 'Good, better now that you're here. How did this morning go? You and Rebecca get here alright?' He questioned, very grateful that I had someone to join this morning.

I nod keenly, moving on to explain about my morning as my hand start to play with some of his mullet. 'Oh I was added to the wag groupchat, they're all really nice people. They said that I can talk to them about anything and ask for advice you know. I've only really met Rebecca so they don't they even know me but they still like accept me, I thought that was the sweet thing ever...' Unintentionally I go onto ramble about the other wags befriending me, only really stopping when I notice his gaze and gentle warm smile. 'Sorry I'm rambling...'

Looking around us, I can see some engineers watching curiously. A mix of his gaze on me, my realization and the engineers watching all make me blush deeply. 'No it's okay...'

His british cuts through my thoughts, reassuring me. 'I'm really happy that you got them beside you, they know what you're going through a lot more than I will ever so that's great!' One of his hands moves up to caress my cheek lovingly.

A comfortable silence falls on us for a few seconds, before I speak up once again. 'So are you ready for the race today? Is the car good?' I ask, despite not really understanding the sport I'm desperate to learn through Lando.

He turns, watching as the engineers do their final preperations and work and nodding confidently. 'Yeah all good! I've got my good luck charm with me and the car is set to do magic today!' Even the way he explains everything, there is a lot of excitement in his voice. I nod, careful to take in all the information he's telling me.

Our conversation continues for a few more minutes before he's notified that he has to make a move to get the car out onto the track. Quick Lando turns back towards me, smiling and pulling me into a tender kiss. 'I love you! Wish me luck!'

I return the same energy and excitement. 'Good luck Lan! You've got this! I love you too!'

-

1.2K

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.