#this is just a word dump s

[ghostatas]

OK, theory time Bois (except its not a real theory it's just a cool idea and I want angst)

So we all basically think those black and green structures are like portals right, or some way to communicate with another dimension?

What if, eventually, each parent has to go into a ring/portal as a trial (like quackity said ooc) and face something- whether this leads to the eggs or not is up yo you to decide

This trial can be anything, but my main ideas for it is it shows them

1. Their past,

2. A possible future (most likely where the eggs are dead/ doomsday or something of the likes),

3. Themselves- something like where they have to fight an exact copy of themselves and try to find a way to beat them (which, BTW, is great for character growth and is anime protagnist as FUCK and sounds cool as shit- can't be done for etoiles tho cuz none of the admins can imitate his pvp skill LOL- but off track)

ANYWAYS, onto the main point, FITMC

Fit motherfucking MC, gets the first option of seeing his past.

2b2t, the place he tried so hard to escape. Oh boy. (It'll only be a replica, he still can't use hacks, there's no one there and there's very minute differences but he's too out of it to realise :] )

When he first enters the portal, it takes him a few seconds to truly realise where he is, but when he does he fucking CRUMBLES. That man's walls break faster than my will to live. He immediately starts panicking, and his panic even overpowers his worry about ramon for a second. Its all just 'I can't be back here, I tried so hard to leave, anywhere but here, please'

I feel like his time at Quesadilla Island softened him, distanced him from his past and made it easier to ignore all the shit he's been through. He became happy, he was safe and he was doing good! Still very emotionally constipated and just not even processing the trauma he's experienced as trauma, but as good as he can be despite that. So when he realises he's back in 2b2t all those decades of shit he's been through comes crashing down all at fucking once. So yeah, he goes through it.

His first instinct is to make one of those tiny, reinforced obsidian and hide. Once he's in he just sits down and... tries to process. Tries.

It takes him a very long while to calm down, but only to think properly. The only thing that gets him to stop panicking about his own situation is trying to find ramon, or any clues, because GOD FORBID ramon is also trapped in here, it's the only thing worse than being there himself.

From there he can think more clearly. He has a goal so he pushes all the other shit back down and locks it up for later- he's got his boy to find. At this point he realises there's none of the usual explosions or noise that's usually very common in 2b2t, he checks and sees his hack client is not working still so yeah, odd. He's still very shaken and more vigilant than usual, but he can actually go out and investigate and think now so he goes and does that.

Does he find Ramon? Idk, I didn't think this far.

Well, I did, but maybe not the way I would want it to go. Imagine he finds Ramon, who's fighting a shit tone of mobs. Fit's just desperate to get him to safety, so he doesn't get much time to actually look over his boy or talk to him or anything. Maybe there's a time limit on how long they can stay in this dimension or something, but the portal back is not too far away and it is slowly getting smaller and smaller.

Fit is leading Ramon to the portal, all the while fending off the barage of mobs. Ramon, thankfully, gets to the portal in time, safely. Everyone's at spawn waiting for them, looking over Ramon and making sure he's OK.

Fit does not make it in time.

He is stuck in 2b2t for the foreseeable future, and he can do nothing but wait, just like he always does. Just waiting. Waiting.

[jjinpang]

disorganized honest thoughts on angeal and genesis

Read someone's view on crisis core as "a strange game where I only remembered charas from ff7 proper". And I thought to myself. that is an accurate review.

really long ramble-y thoughts from a person who has not kept up with ff7 past crisis core under cut you have been warned

-------------

I have learned to like both of them quite a bit after rolling them around in my head for several years, but on first playthrough I did not like angeal or genesis. and I don't think back in a "what a fool I was" way. I think my original view on the two is actually still valid. I think angeal and genesis are both pretty badly written and have very little substance in game.

I understand the limitations of the psp greatly restricted the amount of story they could cram in. but then you write a different story or change your game system. This is not a valid excuse.

My understanding of how they WANTED to position the characters is Angeal, zacks' heroic ideal, a bar for him to gauge whether he's made it or not. While sephiroth was genesis'?????

because angeal barely spends any time NOT in the opposition, or even coming UP in conversation I really can't tell.

Genesis was positioned to b a foil to zacks. which still rings true in crisis core, but not straight forward enough???

Both Genesis and zacks were fixated on being a hero. I could see it being a clash of ideals. "what is a true hero" type thing. but in that case genesis being a peer of both angeal and sephiroth makes the connection muddy.

This is just a completely biased counter suggestion to the story we got but:

-

I feel like we could have gotten more bang for our buck if genesis was actually a peer of zacks, maybe even excelling where zacks was not, but feels threatened by the growth zacks is showing empowered by his sunshine puppy attitude. Both look up to sephiroth.

genesis continues to idolize sephiroth even when sephiroth proves to be not as perfect as advertised, while zacks has his qualms. it's about becoming a hero for zacks while it's about becoming sephiroth for genesis.

Later there is some drama surrounding who gets promoted to class 1st ( only zacks / only genesis / both but genesis causes some trouble and has to leave etc etc)

zacks and genesis eventually have to duke it out one heroic ideal to another. zacks wins -- we still get basically the same conclusion we got at banora in crisis core proper.

-

You might have noticed this suggestion is Angeal-less. While Angeal is probs one of my fav of the charas introduced in crisis core he did not need to be there methinks. (save on disc space, leave him on the drawing board) HOWEVER In my haphazard suggestion above, maybe it could have been that zacks idolized angeal while genesis idolized sephiroth -- the two class 1sts. But for whatever reason angeal has an "accident", that way sephiroth can still have his "oh no all my friends are gone" dilemma. and a good reason to start going down a dark path.

Meanwhile Genesis had more of a reason to be there -- it's 2007 and GACKT is RIGHT THERE jk jk -- Zacks needed his own foil. that said this "Angeal maybe didn't need to be there" opinion is a bit colored by how square has handled zacks throughout the years. Positioning sephiroth as his heroic ideal over angeal. However even in game they didn't really paint a clear picture of how Angeal was zacks' mentor.

Everyone knew the PSP has limited resources throwing new characters at the problem was kinda a bad solution.

I say this having actually loved playing the game, and knowing full well if they actually did something like what I wrote above I might have enjoyed it less. who knows, nagging about a story that's already written is something nerds(me) do to fill the void in their hearts.

anyhoo have nowhere to put my thoughts so putting them here.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

let's talk lore for a moment, if that's alright!

my i.shin s/i met both toshi and r.yoma separately on totally different occasions before the three of them got together. and both of these meetings was... her trying to kill them!

and i was thinking about her meeting with toshi. how he's shocked because how long had it been since he had fought a battle in which someone could actually keep up with him?

the "man" in front of him was odd, nothing but his eyes visible, wearing a mask and a straw hat, covered from head to toe. yet toshi barely had the time to think. one moment's hesitation could very well mean death for him.

whenever ash finally does land a blow on him, finally gets to see her blade cut through his flesh in a splash of the beautiful red she loves so much... she's quite happy. all toshi hears is a deep, satisfied chuckle from behind the mask.

and that's all toshi knew about the masked foreigner. one of the toughest (yet most exhilarating) fights of his life, and a chuckle that replayed in his head for far long than it probably should have.

these days, he was much more focused on his work and the such to truly hunt, to fight, to kill like he used to, but no blade the shinsengumi had came close to that fateful day. he has this weird itch for a long time, the urge to cross blades with that person once more.

it's when he sees the woman r.yoma has started to befriend that he realizes shit, this is the masked person! and he challenges her to a fight, to which she gladly accepts.

this time, he gets to see her grin in the heat off battle, the way her hair comes loose when she has him pinned down, blade to his neck. it's fucking exhilarating. there's something alluring about this woman, and he just couldn't get enough.

as his feelings for her grow from admiration/rivalry/physical attraction/lust/whatever else to something more romantic... ash falls in love with r.yoma. toshi doesn't get in the way of it. In fact, he was quite happy for the guy. when he realizes he's in love with ash, he just accepts it as a harsh truth of life.

one day, after seeing ash and r.yoma share a sweet kiss, his thoughts drift towards not just ash, but r.yoma too. a man he had known for quite some time now, that he had fought and bled beside.

toshi had always been interested by r.yoma. He was so righteous, so strong, so... good. It had been a long time since toshi had met a man like that. they go out for drinks often and just talk. r.yoma is good company, even if he's not much of a talker. that's alright. toshi wasn't either. their relationship had gone from a boss and his subordinate -> comrades/brothers-in-arms -> friends.

h.ijikata tries to rationalize it. thinks of it as himself simply not wanting to be alone after seeing so many of his fellow shinsengami captains die. he yearns for company.

at night, h.ijikata's thoughts drift towards ash. they did often. he always doesn't go too far, never lets himself imagine more than the soft sound she'd made when he kissed her neck, the way she'd whisper his name, the feeling of her bare skin on his, and- no. no, no. she was a taken woman. tempting as it was, she was not his.

but now he found himself thinking about r.yoma too.

he had been at peace with the fact that he was attracted to men also for a long time now. it's not a new revelation for him. he hadn't been in love often, but he had certainly found himself in some odd situations before.

but this? being in love with two halves of a couple? that was something quite new for him.

Hm. What a peculiar life I live.

he will not act on these feelings, he will keep them to himself. how likely would it be that they were even reciprocated? how would it all even work? it's not as though their relationship was any bit conventional.

he tells himself to purge the thought, to put it to bed... but it's always there, in the back of his mind.

that sight of r.yoma and ash kissing...

the quiet fire in r.yoma's eyes when h.ijikata held him down last they fought, the way he turned him around so he was on top...

the warmth of Ash's body as she held her blade to his neck, her hair messy, so beautiful without her usual straw hat to hide it....

the feeling of Ash's lips on his chest that he always fantasized about... how would the real thing feel? even better?

despite how hard he tries, he cannot put his thoughts to rest. it's not long before he's in too deep, so in love that it hurts.

he led the life of a warrior, yet had never faced a battle this challenging.

[gailynovelry]

Related to the "don't edit your first draft isn't universally useful advice" thing, we are pleasantly surprised to realize that we did several kinds of editing already for Breathing Gods, and that there's really not that much to tidy up or trim now that we got the whole thing wrapped up.

[screampied]

Imagine how much stamina jjk men has during sex, can you please make this a multi headcanon?😭😭

❛ RIDE IT LIKE YOU OWN IT! ❜

geto, toji, gojo, choso, sukuna. rating the jjk men stamina and how long they last.

warnings. mdni. fem! reader, multiple órgasms + rounds, dirty talk, praise, doggy, full nelson, daddy kink, unprotected s*x, pussydrunk men, breath play, squirting, breeding kink.

word count. 2.6k

☆ GOJO

without question, gojo could last for hours. many, many rounds. you’d be so drunk from his cock that by this point his moans start to grow even louder than yours.

“f-fuck, the way you fuck back against me,” he’d groan, his bottom lip pokes out before he’s got a mean grip on your hips. you’re just being drilled by this point from his dick, your head thwacking and hitting back and forth against the cushioned mattress. he’s so whiney, huffing and puffing as his eyes stared right at the mounds of your ass. you’d be slamming back into him, and your ears just ring from each individual spank he gives you. “how long ‘s been, baby—? gettin’ tired yet?”

“no,” you’d moan, and he’s buried balls deep, its like fatigue for him just wasn’t real. entirely nonexistent. gojo pivots his hips, rolling it against you while skimming his thumbs against your waist and you whine. “don’t s-stop.”

“wasn’t gonna,” he groans, and he feels the warmth of your feet wrap around his calves—you were speechless, mouth dangling open as he’s thrusting deep deep into you. “princess, y’know what you can do for me?” you swallow, feeling gojo lean in right up against your ass, one hand clinging onto your hip, another going between your legs. “play with yourself for me. remind me how much of a messy girl you are.”

“okay..” you’d whine, dragging a hand amidst your legs.

you wince at bit at the feeling of your thin panties sticking against you. gojo made you keep them on, lazily just pushing them towards the sides of your legs, all because he couldn’t wait. impatient.

whenever gojo would come home from day long missions, he’d give you bedroom eyes almost instantaneously. and you knew what that meant.

“s-satoru,” you’d babble, rubbing a few fingers against your clit, he’s got your head pressing into the mattress so good — small noises of surprised squeaks elicit from your throat. he made sure the arch you had was simply immaculate. your pussy continuously clenched around him, the girth of him easily stretching throughout your cunt. “fuckkk, fuck, right there.”

gojo gets off from your pleasure, and as he stares at your jerking body, he quickens his pace a bit more before uttering out a soft,

“oh…s-shittt,” and that’s when he feels you tighten up for a second. gojo’s breathing starts to pick up, thighs aching, and he knew exactly what was preparing to build up. “baby, fuck when…when you grip down on me like that ‘m gonna c-cum again.”

and he’s serious, deadly.

his base unremittingly whacks against your slick little entrance. your fingers were barely doing any sorts of stimulation because all the attention was going straight towards gojo’s mean rich thrusts. “damn, ya always jus’ milk me every—every fuckin’ time,” and as he spoke, he made sure to match his words with his hits against your cunt. “c-can’t stop ‘cause this pussy won’t let me.”

strands of spit trickled down the corners of your lips due to your mouth being open and you moaned, feeling gojo push you up—you’re matching his lewd rhythmic pace before he lets off a sharp gasp, dumping another load into you.

“g-god, you…you always know how to make a mess out of me,” he shudders, feeling every inch of his body grow staggeringly hot. such lengths of ropes — his cum fueled you up, it was sticky and you craved for more. gojo’s breathing was irregular, and yet he still wasn’t tired.

after all….he was the strongest.

so that meant, going again and again. even if that meant going all day, because one of gojo’s favorite things was to train your pussy, you.

☆ TOJI

his stamina would be equivalent to a horse. when toji fucks…he fucks.

“nah, don’t run now, y’er the one who’s been begging for me to give this pussy attention,” he’d gruff, and your tongue was just lolled all the way out — dragging and scraping against the fabric sheets of the bed.

toji treated you like a rag doll. you’d be pushed up against him, and he’s got you in full nelson. thick cock driving right into your cunt. you find your legs being all up in the air and you’re just whimpering frenetically.

“nasty girl. made me stop doin’ my sets jus’ to fuck ya. ‘oughta be ashamed of yourself,” and then you moan, feeling him pin his beefy arms around your neck to hold you gently in place. “got anythin’ to say? did all that talkin’ ‘n now y’er just radio silent. shame.”

“n-no,” you moaned, and you felt your knees buckle. toji’s fat cock buried deep against your walls, he hit everywhere, even the spots you didn’t even know existed. you were just dumbly bouncing on his lap — tongue stupidly rolled out with your breath hitching. “fuckkk, ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, daddy.”

“who?”

you grew sub substantially quiet, the only sounds running out of your mouth were your quiet shaky breaths.

toji’s got you in a firm safe headlock, softly bringing a hand to squeeze against your right tit, another toying against your slick entrance before he slyly murmurs against your ear, “aw. no back talk now? tell me what you jus’ called me, baby. or you won’t get to cum on me.”

chest heaving, you swallowed whatever pride you had left, shifting your hips a bit to feel how deep he was stuffed into you before you whined. “i-i called you daddy.”

“yeah you did,” he chuckles with a low rasp, sheer bass coating his tone entirely. you felt so small. he’s so strong, lifting you up and down to just buck and jolt on his fat cock—skin sharply ricocheting against his thigh each time you make directly contact.

“you don’t gotta be shy around me, doll,” he mutters, fingers softly curling around your neck. you were pressed up against his chest and toji slows you down with one hand attached to your hip.

another swiftly gets ahold of your chin before he slips a middle finger right into your mouth. he lowly guffaws, feeling you suck on it before replying, “i’ve always liked my women a little nasty for me.”

for a brief second, you were in the midst of catching your breath.

exhaling a low sigh against toji’s pecs that you laid on. he showcases a snarky grins, pressing a kiss against the left side of your neck. “oh come onnn, don’t tell me your legs gave out already,” and then he starts to rub against your clit again. you gasp, moaning before he also gives it a playful spank. “baby, it was only like what . . six rounds? damn, guess you really are a weakling.”

☆ SUKUNA

“…woman, you—you’re so foolish,” he groans, and the curse laid back with a clenched jaw, tightened pecs, and a left hand stuck against your left hip like glue. “keep fuckin’ me like that and ‘m gonna get you pregnant.”

“get me pregnant then,” you whine, leaning in to kiss him.

sukuna grunts, bringing the left temple of your ass a rough spank before he returns the kiss. he glides his tongue alongside yours, warm breath colliding with your own. your tongue slides near his fangs and he lets off a soft groan the more you grind your hips forward towards him in such a way.

after a while, he pulls back before staring at you. his hair was messy and ruffled.

beads of sheeny sweat race down the sides of his forehead before he breathes, “you’re so stupid,” and he traces both of his thumbs against your ass, watching your cunt swallow his thick inches wholeheartedly. “course you want that. you want me to fill you again, princess—?”

“yeah, that’s why i t-told you to get me pr—”

“watch your fuckin’ mouth, little girl,” sukuna chastised, kissing the fat of your ass with another spank. “don’t forget who you’re speakin’ to.”

just as you were about to roll your eyes, you gasp once he reaches a certain sensitive spot. shortly afterwards ; you whine from the incoming sting before you rock your hips at a much more hastened pace.

it’s probably been hours, and of course, sukuna had stamina for hours, days . . perhaps years, after all it is sukuna.

you’d be lucky that he didn’t break your pussy with his thick cock. just him easing his way inside of you, aligning himself gently just so it’d be easier that way—yet you still felt every ambrosial sweetened inch. “f-fuck ‘kuna,” you’d whimper, gradually slowing your hips down.

his jaw clenches again, and his eyes linger down to witness your hips, its rotating against him in such a sloppy slow way—you grind against his lap in response and it makes his head spin.

“d-damn,” he’d swallow, and that was probably the first time you’ve made sukuna stutter. your pussy gripped around him tightly, so much force that it made your ears ring and pop. “got so much cum to flood into your nasty cunt, better be grateful ‘n take every drop,” and then his voice pitches once he brings you closer towards his face with a cold grimacing glare. “wipe that fuckin’ smirk off your face.”

“make me.” you giggle, leaning in to kiss the left side of his lip.

yet you regret even saying that because within a blink of an eye — sukuna’s already got you flipped over on your stomach. he’s already preparing to jostle his hardened dick right back into you where it belongs. “i’ll fuckin’ make you,” and then he kisses his teeth, watching you teasingly wriggle your ass from excitement before growing quiet once he finished his words. “let’s see you take both of my cocks since you wanna be all big ‘n bad, whore.”

☆ GETO

his stamina comes out of nowhere . .

you’d end up teasing geto a bit too much and he just takes it out on your pussy. until the room’s entire smell is filled with nothing but a sweetened mixture of your natural scent of his lavished cologne scent that went against your nose each time.

“fuckkk, we gotta work on this arch of yours, baby,” geto chuckles.

you’re on all fours, staring at how dumb you look in the reflection of the mirror.

geto’s propped up behind you with the smuggest grin on his face, watching your body practically go limp—you moaned, feeling each ridge and edge of his cock prod against the insides of your pussy. he studies the curve of your ass with a toothy grin before using one hand to caress your hip, guiding you with the suaveness of his voice. “bend all the way back for me, yeahhh.”

his voice went so low, it made you throb. geto could do doggystyle on you for hours on end. until his legs would cramp up — but even then, he’d be too pussy drunk to halt. just a few seconds insides your gummy walls, he might as well be living in there at that point.

“s-suguruuu,” you’d moan, the thin sheets of fabric shocking against your perky nipples.

“don’t suguruuu me unless you’re about to cum, princess,” he whispers. his voice was soothing, yet so dirty. whenever he spoke to you like that, in such sass, it never failed to make you throb. he knew how to get under your skin each time and you hated it.

but at the same time . . it turned you on, and geto of all people knew that. he’s so deep, pumping you full of inches to where you’re just inanely bouncing against the spring mattress. “and you’re not about to cum yet, are ya?”

“n-no,” you’d whine, and he smiles at the subtle faint frustration in your tone. by this point, geto’s doggystyle turned into prone bone. he’s all up and pressed against your ass. such ruthless vigorous thrusts against you, you’re drooling for more of his bulky girth, more of his inches.

geto mocks the disappointed pout you had, and you saw through the mirrored reflection. he was such a tease. “exactly, baby” he purrs before giving the back of your tank top a slight tug—you bump up against him and the very tip of his cock kisses your g-spot. you moaned loudly at the feeling of how snuggly fit inside before you feel geto spill a thick load right into your pussy. “f-fuck, but i am..”

☆ CHOSO

with choso, it’s safe to say you probably wouldn’t be walking in the morning.

he’s sweet and gentle, yet once you whine to him how you want him to be a little bit more rough for once — he complied almost immediately.

“okay, okay,” he sibilates through gritted teeth, and choso would gently pick you up, in preparation to fuck you that way. he’s sweet and tender, choso realigns himself before your arms sling around his neck and he grunts hearing the squelching ‘pop’ your pussy hummed. “don’t look at me like that, ‘m trying..”

you giggle, cupping his face to kiss the top of his nose and instantly. choso’s face grows flustered. yet his entire demeanor changed once he was balls deep, fucking you while standing up as if he wasn’t just so timid and apprehensive a literal moment ago.

“oh my goddd,” you’d whine, feeling big hands of his rub against your waist. his touch was so gingerly, grazing down your spine with a few simple fingers. his dick went deep—you panted, and choso’s ears heat up once he heard your moans directly next to his ear. “riiight there, choso. f-fuck me there.”

“praise me m-more, princess,” he mewls, his head throws back as he holds you up. you clamp down on him so good. strings of your own slick and droplets of his cum from previous rounds going against his base . . choso’s struggling to keep his eyes open. “fuckin’ sloppy, so—good,” he huffs, and you’re just slamming back down against him in the process. “tell me how good ‘m doin’ for you, please.”

as you bounced against him, your breath hitched before you snuck a kiss against his lips. “you’re doing great, baby.”

“—yeah?” he pouts. you were so warm inside, it made his head swell. choso was so lenient yet so needy for more of your praises. he’d eat them up every time. just hearing you whisper in that sweet soft voice of yours that he was making you feel good. he didn’t care if he finished - he cared whether you finished, and that was more than enough to satisfy him.

“yeah.” you reply, and he finally returns the kiss, its more sloppy than usual. his tongue breezily brushes against yours, he moans right into your mouth before he feels himself starting to bottom out.

choso’s so vocal, letting off such the sluttiest moans and whimpers into your mouth—you remain with your arms wrapped around him, jerking up and down against him as he’s got you. “f-fuck,” he’d gasp, feeling his thighs ache before he shifts his heels a bit. a few steps and you’re pinned right up against the wall.

shaky legs of yours snake around his waist before he hears you let off the most candied moan, more so… an orgasm. he didn’t even know you were close, and yet he looks down once he feels your entrance soak all over him.

choso pants, still carrying you before murmuring in a hoarse reticent voice, “d-did you just squirt?”

you’re in the middle of catching your breath before your bottom lip quivers. useless legs dangling alongside his waist before you huff out a shaky breath. “y-yes.”

“oh,” he murmurs before staring into your eyes, “can you do it again?” he pouts, and he’s still buried to the hilt inside of you—you let off a soft noise once choso brings you close to his chest, licking against your ear before whining off a needy, “…please?”

[oceantornadoo]

dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.�� like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

[writersdrug]

Price getting reader a step stool cause she keeps asking Bartender!Ghost to reach stuff for her. Simon obviously brakes it when no ones looking. 👀🤭

LOL

"Is this your way of insulting me?" You ask, holding the colorful, children's stepstool in your hands. You're grimacing at it, a look that has Price chuckling as he folds up the bag from the store.

"I figured you could use it - now ya don't have to wait for Simon to grab anything for you." He says, patting you on the shoulder.

"I don't mind the wait..." You mumble under your breath. The stool feels as decorative as a clowns nose as you tuck it under your arm and head towards the stairs. "I'm keeping it upstairs, I don't need customers laughing at me when I pull this out. Might take it home and spray paint it."

"Suit yourself." Price calls as you bound up the stairs. He heads over to the bar, where Simon is currently polishing the glasses you convinced him to order for the Halloween drink.

"Got a problem with me helpin' 'er?" Simon says, thick fingers rubbing the glass with a rag. He doesn't mean to sound defensive... but he can't help the bite in his tone.

Price smirks, picking up on the jealousy laced into Simon's words. "Thought you might like it. Makes your life easier, and 'ers." He pops open the register and starts filtering through the bills, replacing the larger value ones with smaller ones.

"You don't think I'm capable of runnin' a bar and helping you waitress at the same time?"

"No, but I think you'd be better off if you didn't have to run so much. She's brought in so much business as it is, your workload's gotten heavier."

Simon huffs. "Ya just want to separate us, hm? Want 'er all to yourself." He jokes, grabbing another glass and buffing it.

Price shrugs. "And if I am?" He says, giving him a side glance.

Ghost slows his ministrations, turning his head to his captain. They both stare at each other for a moment, Simon with his slightly angry, slightly questioning glare, and Price with his unwavering eyes. Simon wants to tell him to back down, that you're his - but he can't say that, because you aren't his. He wants you to be. But he doesn't know how to make it happen without letting his walls down.

Price chuckles, turning back to the register to continue swapping bills. "Y'know, if you want to say somethin' you'd best say it." He comments, snapping the drawer shut. "Missed opportunities often come from miscommunication."

He leaves Simon at the bar, heading towards the stairs with his money folder. You jog down the steps and nearly crash into him - he quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you out of the way before you can collide with him. You throw a "sorry!" over your shoulder as you carry an armful of various fruits, leaving Price chuckling as he ascends the stairs to the office.

"The oranges up there aren't looking too great." You chirp, dumping the fruit onto his workspace. A few lemons and limes roll onto the floor, and you bend down to chase them. Simon watches you, a bit miffed at how unaware you were of the situation. What do you think of Price? Do you like him? Would you flirt with him as much as you do with Simon?

You return with the escaped fruit. "I can run to Sevvy's store and grab some for tonight, if you want? The ones upstairs are looking a bit pruney."

"Are you actually gonna use that thing?"

"Huh?" You look at him with confusion written on your face. "What thing?"

"The stool." He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. "'S a bit demeaning, don'tcha think?"

You paused, watching him move the fruit to the side and grab a plastic cutting board. "I mean... he bought it, and I wouldn't have to bug you so much. If I spray paint it black or something, it won't look that ridiculous."

He nods. "Hm."

"I used it to grab the fruit."

"That's interestin'." He mumbles, slicing through an orange. You were right, they have seen better days.

He turns to pop open the register and hands you some bills. "Go get a few oranges, no more than ten. Order should be comin' in tomorrow."

You smile and take the money, stuffing it in your back pocket. With a few hours remaining before the restaurant opens, you go through the kitchen, grab your jacket, and head out the back.

Simon's back to chopping fruit and dumping it into a small bin, bitterly thinking over what Price had said. It's a stool. Price got it to help you and himself. It was a thoughtful purchase. But it's not just that. However unserious this is to Price, he's trying to rile Simon up. He's treating you like the last slice of cake in the tin - Price would like to have it, but he knows Simon's groveling for it. He's forcing Simon to ask for what he wants, and the bartender doesn't like that one bit. Normally, it wouldn't be something that irks him so easily - but this is you we're talking about. Not just anything. You. He wants to grab Price by the collar and throw him into next week with how he's trying to wedge between you and Simon - but he doesn't like having a weakness. He'll keep his cool for now. He'll make a move... eventually.

For now, the only aggressive side he'll present is passive.

Price leaves late that night, somewhere between two and three in the morning. He's beat, spending most of the night between helping you run food and drinks, and fifo-ing the pantry and overflow rooms. He's planning for a day off - of course, after he goes to the bank and comes back here to pay everyone. He's jealous of Simon, who's already upstairs for the night - he wishes he only had a short trip to the third floor before he could crash into his bed. Rather, he has to trek a hefty number of blocks home through the dark streets. He's more worried about going to bed at a decent hour than walking around at night with a bag full of money - people usually steer clear of him when they see his stature.

He locks the back door behind him, puffing out a foggy breath into the frigid air. It's only getting colder - he'll have to break out his gloves and scarf soon. The beanie won't be enough. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other holding a small bag of trash from the office. He mentally ticks off what he needs to do this week as he grabs the garbage bins, dragging them behind him and towards the street for the trucks to empty in the morning. He pushes them against the store front, taking the lid off and dropping the light trash bag inside.

The loud thunk makes him do a double take. Did he throw away something important? He lifts the bag once again, and a disappointed expression falls upon his face. The colorful kiddie stool he bought for you is there, pieces snapped apart and shoved deep into the bin. Simon didn't even try to hide it underneath the other bags. It's almost like he left it there for Price to catch.

He sighs, dropping the bag and placing the lid back. He trudged down the sidewalk towards his home - he's not too upset by it. He had a feeling Ghost was sinking his teeth into you, and frankly, it's gotten to the point where Price is afraid of what the man might do if someone else tries to take you away. But damn, if his ex-lieutenant's going to make a move, he'd better make a fucking move. For your sake, if not his own.

He pulls his phone from his pocked and shoots Simon a quick, blunt message.

You're paying me back for that.

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[fatherbrat]

SESSION ONE: TOUCH & SHUSH, S. GOJO

sum. part 1 of the lessons learned series. you have a hard time concentrating during the final thirty minutes of your first tutoring session. not to worry! your new tutor knows just how to keep your attention.

feat. satoru gojo

cw. tutor!gojo, fem reader, physics/math/calculus mentions, fingering in public (the campus library), hold the moan, mdni

wc. 2.4k

You’ve been trying to beat Satoru Gojo for three years.

It started in high school, when he snuck past you on the class rankings during the first semester of your final year, stealing that valedictorian title right from under your nose. You hadn’t even known to be looking out for him. His GPA seemed to have shot up out of nowhere.

It felt like someone had knocked you off a winding staircase just as you were about to reach the top.

Even now, in your third year of university, you have yet to best him. You weren’t aware that Gojo was going to the same school as you after high school, but it felt like the universe was giving you a chance to seek a little revenge.

However, with less than four semesters until graduation, it’s looking like you’ll be second fiddle to Gojo for the rest of your life. There isn’t even a word that can convey how fucking humiliating that is for you. Your friends think it’s dramatic of you to say you’d rather die, but you’ve never been more serious about anything else in your whole life.

It’s a nearly failed physics exam that ends up being your final straw. Well, “nearly failed” is a bit of an exaggeration. You got a B. But B’s don’t beat Satoru Gojo. It’s that thought that makes you finally sign up for a one-on-one tutoring session—one of the pricier ones that all but guarantees you’ll get perfect grades for the rest of the semester.

You fidget in your seat, glancing towards the library entrance every time someone enters. The table you picked is on the second floor, tucked away in a corner with a perfect view of the double doors downstairs.

It’s not very quiet. You would have preferred a session at a time when the library was a bit more deserted, but the only appointment slots available were during peak hours. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Your fingers toy with the corners of your exam—four pages of questions and too many markings made with red ink. They freeze when a familiar somebody enters the building, his eyes scanning the first floor like he’s looking for someone.

Satoru Gojo is wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He tugs his wired earbuds out of his ears and pushes his sunglasses up onto his head as he stands and searches.

You sink into your seat, not wanting him to notice you. It’s bad enough you have to pay someone to help you beat him. You don’t need the added shame of your rival knowing how far you're going just to outdo him.

But it’s almost like that very movement alerts him to your presence. His head jerks up suddenly and he finds you, peering through the railing with those scary blue eyes. A crooked grin stretches across his face and he immediately rushes up the staircase, skipping steps on his way up. 

You sink further, hoping he doesn’t come straight to you. But of course, he does. 

Gojo puts his hands on the opposite end of your table, his knees hitting the modesty panel that hangs down.

“Hey you,” he says, all too familiar, acting like you’re longtime friends. “Whatcha doin’?”

You motion towards the spread of study materials on the table. “What does it look like?”

“Well, it looks like you’re just studying. But from down there–” he juts his chin in the direction of the front door downstairs–“it looked like you were waiting for someone.”

You frown, fingers pattering along the bottom of your graded exam. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m studying.”

Gojo comes around to your side of the table and sits next to you, dumping his bag onto the surface. “You sure? I thought we had an appointment.” He holds his phone up in front of his face and squints at it. Your stomach drops. “You said you needed help in physics. Specifically…electromagnetism?” He puts his phone on the table, smiling. “Or was that not you?”

You put your head in your hands, cursing the universe for giving you the worst luck in the world. Of course, he gets assigned to be your tutor. You didn’t even know he was tutoring. 

“There’s no fucking way,” you mumble into your palms.

Gojo tilts his head and pokes your arm. “Is something wrong?”

You take in one deep breath. And then another. And then lay your hands flat on the table.

“You’re my tutor?” you ask.

“Sure am,” Gojo says, putting his arm on the back of your chair.

You groan and your phone vibrates. You’ve just unlocked your phone when Gojo plucks it out of your hands. 

“We only have an hour and a half,” he says, before his eyes catch the words on the screen and he smirks. You wince and reach across him, but those long limbs keep you at bay as he scrolls through the new messages in your group chat.

“Baddie baddie shot o’clock,” he mutters, reading the name of the group off the top of the screen.

“Give that back,” you say, smacking his arm. He just keeps reading.

You know the last few messages you sent were about him. And you know any conversation about him always ends up…kind of thirsty. (You’re not blind! He may be a pain in your ass but he’s also fine as hell.) Whatever he’s reading must be stroking his ego.

You watch him put your phone on do not disturb and then lay it down on the opposite end of the table, out of arm’s reach. When he turns to look at you he’s got his eyebrows raised.

“You and your friends are funny,” he says, obviously trying not to laugh. 

You sigh and wave your test in the air. “Just help me with this.”

Gojo shifts into teaching mode, still looking vaguely amused, but offering notes and corrections on your exam and the notes you’ve taken yourself. It surprises you how good he is at this. That air of cockiness is still there, but he’s genuinely helpful. It surprises you further when he pulls out a practice sheet.

“You’re struggling with this because you don’t have a good grasp on vector calculus,” he says, tapping on the worksheet with the end of his pen. 

You groan. He’s right, but no amount of office hours or YouTube videos have helped. This was your last hope.

But the two of you have already been at it for an hour and your focus is dwindling. Your mind wanders, wondering what your friends are talking about, what’s happening on your Twitter timeline, what you should get for dinner. Your fingers twitch and you glance at your phone, face-down on Gojo’s side of the table.

He pockets it, shaking his head a little. “Don’t tell me you're getting restless already.” He makes a big show of extending his arm so that his sleeve moves up a little, exposing his watch. “We only have half an hour left.” He pokes your temple. “You can make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes you, but you refocus on the paper in front of you. Gojo grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls you closer to him, until your seat clangs against his and he can lean over your shoulder. 

You stare at the top of the page until your eyes unfocus. Would it be rude to end the session early? You’d hate to not get your money’s worth, but God this stuff was so mind-numbing. You look around the library, leg bouncing.

Gojo’s hand lands on your thigh and you pause.

When you glance at him he just taps the paper. “Focus. Vector fields first.”

You blink and get back to your worksheet, not moving his hand.

He starts circling his thumb on your skin. “Vector fields are just functions,” he explains, pointing at a formula written in bold at the top of the page. “Look, there’s an example.”

You scan the example graph and the explanation below it, striving to absorb the information. Gojo’s hand shifts higher, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your skirt. When you raise your eyebrow at him, he just stares right back.

“I read your texts,” he reminds you.

You try to recall exactly what you said in there. Something nasty about him, for sure. You eye the ceiling, trying to remember.

Gojo squeezes your leg, drawing your attention back. “I’ll give you a phone break if you can answer the first two without help.”

You yearn for your phone, so you nod and pick up your pencil.

It doesn’t take you long to finish the questions, but you think Gojo spends longer than necessary reviewing your work. 

He pulls your phone out of his pocket and you practically leap into his lap for it. 

You’re fully occupied with catching up and responding to messages until he tucks his hand into the waistband of your skirt. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, still tapping away.

You know what he’s doing. The first thing you did when you got your phone back was check which texts he read. 

you #that man just walked in

Thing 1 what if he’s ur tutor lolll

you i’ll jump off the roof rn

Thing Two shiiii he can teach ME show me how to ride that dick sir!

you ur nasty

Thing 1 you literally sent us a message abt his bulge yesterday

you … touché

Gojo hums. “You can tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You spread your knees further apart so he can have better access and do a quick sweep of the floor with your eyes. The two of you are in a corner and there’s a modesty panel on the table, but still…

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips just brushing your ear. “Nobody’s gonna see. Just act natural.”

It’s hard to “act natural” when someone’s hand is between your legs in a crowded library, but you try your best. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you resume scrolling. Gojo pinches your clit through your underwear.

You toss him a hard glare and he deliberately avoids eye contact, looking up and around and acting oblivious.

“Break time’s over,” he says suddenly, pulling your panties to the side at the same time.

“Wha-”

“Fifteen minutes left of your session,” he says, sliding one long finger inside your cunt. “Let’s make it count.”

Your brain stutters. Make what count? There’s no way he expects you to pay attention to any kind of lesson while he’s doing…that.

“You okay?” he asks, slowly dragging his finger out of your pussy only to add another one. He points at the bottom of your worksheet with his free hand. “One more of these and then we can review line integrals.”

This guy’s fucking insane.

You shift a bit, sitting up in your seat to concentrate on the task at hand. Gojo takes your phone again, but you hardly notice. 

When you complete the problem he makes a sound of approval and takes out another worksheet. “See it’s not that bad. Line integrals now.”

He points at a figure in the middle of the page as he stuffs a third finger up your already-full cunt. “Line integrals are used to calculate the work done by a force on a moving object. But if you take this curved line and-”

Everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. You’re nodding along, trying to look composed and natural as he fingers you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you have to resist the urge to shut your eyes.

“It’s just like line integration in scalar fields,” Gojo continues. He sounds excited. You’d like to think it’s because he really likes this advanced calculus, but it’s probably just because he can tell you’re getting close.

He presses the pad of his thumb onto your clit and a full-body shudder rolls through you. He smiles wide, still lecturing. You exhale gently, careful to not let a moan slip as you grip the edge of the table.

He stops talking in the middle of a sentence about arc length, but his fingers never slow. You watch as he checks the time and frowns. 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, sounding disappointed. He turns to face you, taking in your widened eyes and barely parted lips. “Our hour and a half is over.” He pouts. “I’ll finish up, mkay.”

He thumbs your clit again, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Here,” he says, leaning into you. “Bite my shoulder when you come. And try not to make any noise, yeah?”

He’s so conceited, you think. But before you can say something snarky, he buries his fingers knuckles-deep again, pressing them up against that spot inside you that makes you clamp down on his shoulder, tears pricking your eyes as your orgasm hits you harder than expected.

It takes all your effort to hold back your moans as you pulse around Gojo’s fingers. He chuckles a little, letting you catch your breath before he pulls his hand away. You stop biting him and slouch in your seat, reaching down to readjust your skirt and underwear in a way that’s subtle.

Gojo sucks your slick off of his hands, releasing each finger from his mouth with a pop sound. You scrunch up your nose at him, irked at the unnecessary noise. You exerted so much energy to stay silent and here he goes.

“So we’re done?” you ask, blinking away the tears that formed when you came.

“Yep,” he answers, nodding. “Just finish up those worksheets before next week and make sure you take notes in class. I’ll make sure you’re all set for midterms.” He winks.

You start to put your things away, closing your laptop and notebooks.

“By the way,” Gojo says, standing up, “this has been my favorite tutoring session I’ve done so far.”

You just roll your eyes, the smallest of smiles tugging on your lips. 

He places your phone on the table and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “And see if you can reserve one of the private study rooms for next time.”

He pins you with a knowing look before spinning around, long legs striding towards the staircase.

If you know tutoring went like this, you would have signed up sooner.

a/n. all the physics math stuff i got from the uc berkeley website and khan academy so...thanks to them lmfao. (or yk, blame them if it's wrong)

taglist. @megumisthirdog @chaccomiya @hellokittyish @ash--007 @gojoakgae @bunnisthings @ourfinalisation @levislug @inlove-maze @tobiodoll @iwaizumisloverrr @kentogetsmewetter @newdruid @cocoamide @y34rnf0rcc @missthatgirl @shutuppeter @skyshadowsworld @usbrous @cherryredribbons @lolitamermaid123 @kinnimi @aerareads @billiondollarworth @sillymortalblob @vadiatree @kachntos @www-sanrioslut-com you must have an age indicator in your bio to be added to the taglist

[luslushearth]

Hate sex with Sunday…. (Placed before he becomes harmonious or whatever)

Warnings: Afab reader, overstimulation, degrading, unprotected, creampie, Reader is really vulgar/bratty, Marking

The silent serenity of the room is disturbed by pants, and loud squelches of your growing lust splattering through the air. The only thing muffling your moans is a gloved hand engulfing your lips. Unfortunately for Sunday, you are purposefully trying to be heard by the entirety of Penaconys dreaming visitors. Sometimes, he seems to forget just how much of a handful you are…

You bite his gloved hand, the man pounding into your pussy hissing in pain. Yet, each thrust continues its relentless pace, only slowing to allow him words, an insult (though he calls them ‘critiques’) for you.

“You… I truly… do dislike you.”

“Aww… Haa… Seems like your dick loves me though.” You’re immediately silenced when Sunday burrows your body into the matress, hitting that spot inside you when he thrusts at a particular angle. “Ah…! S-see…? Your dick really does love— Oh…!” Sundays finger works diligently on stimulating your clit, the cloth fabric of his gloves only furthering the sensation. “Maybe….! Maybe not me… But you’re really obsessed with my— Haahh… My— Mm..!” You don’t even have the chance to finish your sentence, Sundays lips finding refuge on yours.

He’s… Never done that before…

You moan into his lips, his thumb still grinding itself into your bud while his other hand plays with your tit, rolling the nub between his fingers.

When you pull away for air, you whisper his name, attempting to ask what it is he’s doing, but you’re stopped again when he dives into your mouth, spit exchanging with each movement. You can feel yourself approaching climax, much earlier than you bet to him you would. Which is horrible, because, that means you’ll essentially be a cocksleeve for him whenever he wishes for the next few months.

He separates his lips from you, smiling at the way a thick trail of saliva connects you two, spit trailing off the side of your mouth. It’s a thrilling site, one that makes him hit that spot in your walls even faster than before. His wings flap to the side of your head, cutting off your vision from anything else but him.

“You… Haah… You truly are a temptress.” All it takes is a finally snap of his hips and your hand flies up to his head, gripping his hair as your walls flutter around his length. Despite your blissful climax, he continues his ministrations slowly even as you cum, further serving your rapture. “It’s why I dislike you so.”

You’re not sure why he hates you so much, but you have no time to think about it, especially when he props himself up. He looks down at your dazed face, a smirk coating his lips. All too familiar.

“Wha… Give me some time to recover you beast— Ahh.. Fuck…!”

“It’s not fair if only you have release. Besides… Haa… You’ve survived… more than one hnngh, haven’t you?” … He plans to wreck the absolute hell out of you. He leans down to your ear, a husky voice escaping him, “You don’t deserve relaxation on the seventh day, so atone for your transgressions.” He props your legs above his shoulder, essentially preparing you to become his own personal cum dump.

“Sunday you little bastard—! Nghh…!” You won’t admit it him, you never will, but that was so hot. Yet again, he might know you think it, especially with the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, the idea of him emptying his seed furthering you thirst.

“I hope you remember that… Haah… promise… I prefer pe… pests at least remain orderly…” his thrusts grow sloppy, words slurring, a sign he’s close. In a last ditch effort of revenge, you laugh at him, tightening harder. You’ll shred his dignity too, even if you have to surrender your own.

He glares at your face, that sneer breaking when he can feel himself coming close, your second climax quickly reproaching. After a few more thrusts, he empties himself, all of himself into your body, not daring to pull out. In turn, your flutter around him once again, squirting at his abdomen, wetting expensive clothes. He allows himself to plug your hole, your fingers brushing through his hair while his face finds refuge in your neck.

“Aww, my favorite sight… the all famed Sunday pathetically weeping at getting his dick wet~ Now, what time do you want me out of here hm?”

“Did an imp like you really believe us to be done?” His hand reaches back to your hips, his grip tightening.

“… What?”

…

You lay on the side of the bed, glaring at the culprit of your current bed ridden state. He doesn’t return the sentiment, a false face of pleasantries returning your feelings.

“I hate you Sunday, whatever your last name is.”

“Hate is strong, I prefer dislike. Take my feelings for you.” He continues to smile even when you swat your hand at him, an attempt to kick him out of the bed.

“Yeah? Well you must’ve really like that huh?! Look at me you bastard!” You lift up the blanket, pointing at your pussy that drips with the multitudes of load he spent inside of you. At some point you lost count, but you know for sure it was more than 7. “I mean, how could someone cum that fucking much?!” He doesn’t answer, tilting his head, beaming. “I’m not even gonna start on all these bites you freak.”

“I see, so you’re saying you’re much to weak to go again?”

You pause. He’s doubting you.

“I could do it again.”

“Are you sure? My, I wouldn’t want to hurt such a frail being—“

“I can fuck you again Sunday, stop being—!” He’s already on you as quick as the words left your throat, your legs wrapping around his hips. He’s lucked out, this part of the dreamscape is emptier than usual at this time.

Unfortunately, you seem to be quite the opposite… You’ve fallen for Sundays tricks once more. Then again, the feeling of his dick rearranging your guts, isn’t as bad as you tell him it is.

[ghostatas]

Baghera :(((((

THOUGHTS ON LUCIE FROM OPQ

Sweetie, queen, she was trying so hard but the dice rolls were just not on her side. Made for great angst but still ;((

Lucie, at the beginning, quarrels with Amy, calling her a brat and spoiled because she stole her water. It was boiling and this little kid just runs in front of her and steals the last of the water, like what!!! Rude!

So, lucie starts complaining to Amy and her dad. But she's not being exactly rude? She's telling the dad that he needs to teach her daughter manners and to be respectful to their elders, something I think we were all taught as a child. Right now, Lucie doesn't care about Amy at all. She's just some random bratty kid that she'll never see again OK??? Why can't she be upset?

But it's not the last time they see eachother, not even close. They get trapped together, in a very dangerous, scary environment.

Lucie is a free-spirited character. She is smart and logical, but she is curious, she likes to adventure, experience and learn new things. It's probably how she met Diego; they are similar, twin flames in a way. Diego seems to be the more timid one of the duo, but will always support and follow lucie. Lucie is a leader; she knows her self worth, her importance and she knows she is smart.

She takes the lead in investigating during most of the tasks. When she sees Amy again, the situation is too chaotic to really process her being there, but she's not just going to leave her out to die so they all go in the control room together. They don't really interact much I think, but hey, they have a mutual dislike of Benito so that's cool! Amy also almost ends up saving them too by the end of the first episode, but ends up breaking down just before they are safe. Luckily everyone was fine, Jeffrey was pushing it a little but I swear he's probably a munchkin with his epic, mysterious backstory and his power of friendship (RiP wallace) ig. So yeah everyone is fine.

Amy is still crying by the time they return to Mikhail and get new clothes. I think this is the part when Lucie truly starts to care about Amy, or at least holds herself responsible for her. This is a lot for an adult to bear, let alone a little kid who still hasn't even processed her fathers DEATH, and who knows very little about their situation because no one has the time to explain. Amy is lost and scared and sad and confused and angry and upset and so very lost-

I think Lucie empathised with her in some way. Lucie is a free spirit. She lived travelling, she lived freedom. I imagine her childhood to be similar to Amys (before that entire trauma-fest). I think they all in a way see a part of themselves in Amy, who symbolises humanity in a way.

Freedom. Passion. Peace. Joy. Recklessness.

They cannot afford to have any of that here. Lucie wants to protect any of it that is left. She wants to leave too, to preserve her own humanity and life.

When Amy leaves Mikhail, Lucie is the only one rushing out to help her. She goes immediately, not a second delay. Amy has also started to trust her, so she plays along and is quiet no matter how confused she is. Lucie dies for Amy

Lucies last thoughts are not how she is happy that the others lived. She is regretful, she is mournful, because she wanted to survive with them. She wanted to leave with them. She wanted to survive.

She has lost everything she has stood for.

She can no longer travel, or explore, or theorise, or learn new things. She is bitter that she is going to die, yet despite that she chose NOT to sacrifice Amy for herself (unlike a CERTAIN SOMEONE *cough cough* Carol *cough cough*). That speaks volumes to me.

Lucie values herself, yet she chose Amy, a kid she met only a few hours ago and disliked at first. She faced torture. She didn't even get to die quickly, no, she was in horrible, excruciating pain before she blacked out and died.

I can't put it into words correctly how it makes me feel, and how I think of Lucie. Lucie did not want to sacrifice herself. She did not want to be a hero. She wanted to live, desperately. Yet in that final moment, where she could've lived, she chose to save someone else instead. I was fully expecting her to abandon Amy at the final moment. Yet she didn't....

And THIS, LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND OTHERS, is why we stan the QUEEN, BAGHERA HOLY SHIT.

*cough* yeah I have a lot of feelings about this. I might come back to it layer if I can find the words but i doubt it. Rip Lucie, the absolute GOAT of opq (I would say MVP too but that titles reserved for Jeffrey, I mean did you see him during the final part????? Holy shit) but yeah that

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART II

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[meteorella]

Nerdgasmic Rhapsody

pairings: loser!dom!ellie x popular!sub!reader

cw: flufff!! ellie's an absolute cutie pie. cursing (obv), oral! (r receiving), tribbing (maybe?), nipple play, after caree!!, pet names: sweetheart, baby, princess, that's all i think!

wc: 511

a/n: (intentional lowercase!!!) first ever ficcc omg🥹 i have never ever in my life written a fanfic before so pleaseee don't judge and also feel free to point out some mistakes and stuff!! I take criticisms as i'm sure it'll help me a lot throughout my writing journey :))) can't promise I'll post consistently considering I'm insanely dumped with school works but I'll definitely find time to do so. anyways i hope u guys enjoy this one!! Feel free to hit me w some ideaaasss :3

after you had made it official with the biggest dork on campus—ellie—people would randomly come up to you in the hallways and tease you, not believing how sweet she actually is. after all of your previous relationships, ellie is the only one who genuinely cared for you. despite her shy and nerdy demeanor, she's really fun to hang out with. she'd continuously yap about space, the comic books she's read—savage starlight—and drop all of its lore to you. the whole fucking lore. although you hardly cared. she was too adorable. most of the time, you would find yourself just looking at her sparkling green eyes, topped by her matte, black glasses, her hand gestures, and the soft smile plastered on her lips while she speaks. she's even more beautiful up close. how could others not see that? whilst ellie can be a total cutie pie, you cant deny how fucking insane she can be in bed.

when eating you out, she'd flick her tongue out relentlessly on your leaking hole. firmly gripping on to your thighs, she already knows your next motive. "nuh-uh, sweetheart. keep them open for me." she shoots you a knowing glare before diving back into your drenched core, keeping eye contact all the while. her gaze roamed over your appearance, hair disheveled, eyes rolled back, and completely fucked out. "s-sorry, baby–fuck." you moaned as you clutched onto her dino-printed sheets. so fucking cute. after you'd climaxed for the 3rd time, she'd climb on top of you and slip her tongue down your throat, allowing you to taste yourself as she grinded her own throbbing cunt against yours. your soaking wet pussies rubbing, and creating the most delicious rhythm together. she absolutely loved your boobs. she adored how it just bounces up and down as she rolled her hips above you. she took your nipple in between her thumb and her index finger and pinched them, making you flinch at the feeling. her glasses were all fogged up and crooked, but she couldn't care less. she was too engrossed on drawing out more of those angelic sounds that slips past your lips as she pleases you. "doing s–so good f'me, princess... fuck–so hot." when you had both finally reached your peak, she'd lean down and gently clean up all your juices from between your thighs with her tongue.

she gives absolutely the best aftercare imaginable. the routine would start with cleaning you up with a wet towel, swiping it's soft material across your face, your breasts, your legs, your inner thighs—she had always taken care of you in the most tender and loving way. she loved hearing your soft, exhausted sighs of relief, as you watch her with a smile on your face all while savoring the chocolate she so graciously offered you. after ellie finishes cleaning you up, she would settle beside you, enveloping you in her arms as she wrapped them around your waist. her lips showering your neck with gentle kisses as she whispered heartfelt words of affection. "i'm going to marry you one day."

YAAALLLL OMG I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK TOO HARD😣😣😣🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 i hope u guys enjoyed this one, i really enjoyed writing thisss!!

tags: @ellstronaut

dividers: @khaer @plutism

[fairy-angel222]

OFFICE SLUT! ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

—in which your boss toji catches you fucking your two coworkers gojo and geto

pairing: gojo, geto, toji x fem! reader

cw: foursome, breeding, degradation, praise, belly bulge, spit swallowing, fingers in mouth, face fucking, tears licking, slapping, fingering, cumming untouched, pussy eating

Being your colleagues’ cum dump was something you’d never expected. Ever since you started working at the office one year ago, your two coworkers Gojo and Geto seemed to have taken a liking to you.

Their constant flirting never ended, often finding yourself sandwiched between the two males with their hands and mouths on your body.

It didn’t take long for you to inevitably fuck them. Cooped up in your office during lunch hour as they took turns fucking you raw and filling you up.

Then it happened again.. and again. Becoming a regular routine for the two men to use your pretty cunt for their pleasure.

You were in your office once more, your blouse unbuttoned down to your tits which spilled out of your lace bra. Your pencil skirt bunched around your waist as you bounced on Geto’s cock. Your hands on his shoulder to steady yourself and your head falling back in a string of loud moans.

Gojo stood above you with his hand around your neck, his lips on your ear as he rasped degrading words into your ear. “Just a lil fucking slut aren’t ya? Good for nothing else but spreading those sexy legs f’ us.”

You mewled at his words, hearing Geto grunt deeply when you clenched down on him. His cock was piercing your insides so deep, slamming mercilessly into your gummy walls which each upward movement of his hips. “Fuck, this slutty pussy never gets tired does it? Fucking made to take our cocks.” Geto groaned, his breathing speeding up as his hands on your hips tightened.

“Nnh— S-sugu- ahh— Suguru,” you cried out, your brain slowly losing any train of thought as you were roughly fucked closer to your orgasm.

“Fucking slut, you like that?” Gojo grinned, “Like having your slutty pussy filled?”

You nodded, your body trembling as your stomach tightened, the feeling of Geto’s cock hitting your g spot with no stop becoming too much as you let out a high pitched cry.

Your eyes rolling back and your breathing heavy as you felt yourself near the edge. Letting out incoherent babbles that you were about to cum.

“Is our little slut gonna cum for us? Go ahead baby, you deserve it.” Geto breathed, feeling his own release nearing as you spasmed on top of him. Nails digging into his back as your pussy gushed onto him messily.

Your lips parted, Geto’s cock pace still relentless as he chased his own high. Short moans matching his thrusts while you rolled your hips back and forth. Gojo chuckled, kissing and sucking up your neck before biting at the lobe of your ear. Bringing his lips to yours to kiss you sloppily, squeezing the sides of your neck before his other hand pried your mouth open with his fingers.

A smirk on his face as he let his spit fall onto your tongue, landing two mean slaps to your cheek before his fingers were back to forcing his saliva down your throat “So pretty like this.”

You whimpered around his fingers, small tears welling in your eyes as the slender digits pushed deeper into your mouth. Your drool running down your chin and his hand when you sputtered.

“Hmm, that’s what i like to fucking see.” Gojo could feel his cock straining hard in his work pants. The bulging dent more than visible to your eyes.

“Shit,” Geto cursed, his cock twitching at the sight of you gagging on Gojo’s fingers when the white haired man began to thrust them in and out.

Letting out a dragged groan, Geto held you still on his cock, pumping ropes of his hot seed into you. “Fucking look at how this pussy’s swallowing my cum.” he mused, slowly pulling you off of him and watching as you clenched down on nothing. Preventing his cum from seeping out of your greedy cunt.

Geto scoffed with a smirk, landing a harsh smack to your folds making you mewl, his palm coming into contact with your puffy clit.

“Guess it’s my turn.” Gojo bit his lip, roughly pulling you off of Geto by your throat and forcing you down onto your knees. Freeing his rock hard cock while his fingers dug into your cheeks. His cock throbbing when you looked up at him through your lashes. “Open.”

You did as told, opening your mouth to allow the man to thrust into it. A loud gag sounding in the small office as he forced it all the way in. The outline of his cock prominent in your throat as you breathed through your nose.

Still keeping eye contact when he grabbed onto the two sides of your head and began fucking your face. Moaning and groaning loudly while watching you messily drool onto your tits. Your eyes blurry with tears as your throat was relentlessly fucked into.

Geto began to stroke his cock to the choked gags sounding in your throat with each slam of Gojo’s hips. Your own hand reaching down to play with your clit as your mouth was used for nothing but pleasure.

Gojo grunted, “Now would you look at that, cock hungry whore’s getting off to this.”

Your whine was muffled as you ruthlessly rubbed over the bud, Geto’s cum beginning to seep out of your cunt as you messily rubbed your clit from side to side. Your wetness coating the floor and your hand as you whimpered around Gojo’s cock.

Gojo groaned, pulling you off of his cock and to your feet. His tongue swiping over the tears collected on your cheeks. “Wanna cum in that tight pussy instead.” Roughly bending you over your desk and landing a slap onto the flesh of your ass.

A moan leaving you when his hands reached to free your tits from the confinement of your bra. He wasted no time in plowing into you from behind. Your mouth falling open in scream like moans as you gripped the edges of the desk. Feeling his cock hammering its way deep into you, and hard.

You let out a cry every time his girth filled you up, grazing against your g spot even more than Geto had. “A-ahh f-fuck—“ you cried shakily, your body being jerked onto piles of paperwork, “Satoruu— nnh- ‘s so deep.” you keened. Your head getting dizzy as Geto’s cum was drilled out of you.

Gojo’s hips moving at an inhuman pace to bully your poor pussy. You lost it when a large hand reached forward to grope your tits, squeezing your hard nipples between his fingers before slapping each one. Drawing two consecutive cries past your lips.

“That’s it. Fucking take it.” Gojo gritted out, his fingers digging into your sides to fuck into you even faster. “Gonna breed this little pussy so full.”

The sensation was different, feeling Gojo’s tip prodding at your sensitive spot nonstop. The abuse causing your bladder to feel full as you moaned. Your eyes closing as you pressed your cheeks onto the glass desk. Seeing Geto fisting his cock at the same pace you were being destroyed at.

“S-shit,” Gojo breathed, his cock twitching against your walls. His head falling back in sharp breaths as he neared his release. “Clenching down on me so- fuck— tight.”

Your noises carried no sound as the most intense orgasm washed over you. Your body shaking uncontrollably as your toes curled, increasing your grip on the desks edge. “O-oh f-fuckkk.” you cried out loudly.

Unknowingly forcing Gojo’s cock out your slippery cunt as you squirted. Streams after streams of the clear liquid spraying messily onto his abs and thighs, a shiver raking through your body when your hand reached down to rub quick circles on your clit. “Nnhg— ahh, o-oh god,” you mewled tearily, your pussy unable to stop gushing despite the buckling of your knees.

Your body shivered when you finally came to a stop, panting hard in an attempt to catch your breath as your body went limp. A loud whistle coming from the man behind you as he assessed what just happened. Grinning widely before his eyes darkened.

“That was so fucking..” thrusting his cock back into you, “hot.” His thrusts now becoming uncoordinated as he rut into you. The sight of your orgasm somehow making him even harder than before. Skin on skin filling the air along with the lewd squelching sounds from your pussy.

Geto still couldn’t believe his eyes, his tip and angry red as he neared another release.

Gojo cursed out loudly, giving you his final crazed thrusts before he was burying his cock all the way in. Painting your guts with a satisfied hum. “Such a good breeding bunny for us.”

Geto got off of his seat, his abs tensing as he continued stroking his cock. “Put her on her knees for me.”

Gojo slipped out of you effortlessly, setting your jelly like frame on your knees for Geto to cum on your face and on your tits. Your fucked out brain barely registering it as you were coated with the sticky white substance.

The two mens’ heads turned at the sound of the office door being unlocked. You being too tired to even hear the sound. The was only one person who could have a key.. your boss, Toji Fushiguro.

Geto and Gojo glanced at each other, hurriedly trying to tuck themselves back in their pants while standing side by side facing the door in an attempt to hide you.

A deep voice traveled through the room as the door was slammed open. “Don’t bother, i know you three have been fucking.”

Shit.

“And you two know that this is unacceptable behavior.” Closing and locking the door behind him before walking up to you, watching as you blinked up at him confused. Toji stooped in front of you. Taking in the state of your clothes, the cum on your body and most importantly, your leaking pussy.

“S-sir we can exp-“

“Shut up.” Toji growled out, trailing a finger down your cheek. “It’s already bad enough that you two decided to play selfish with my pretty little employee.”

Gojo’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Don’t act all surprised, did you really think you could keep that pussy of hers all to yourselves?” Toji laughed, tilting his head at you with a coo, “You hear that baby? They thought they could get away with not sharing.”

You whimpered when Toji picked you up, his large muscles flexing under his shirt as he sat you on the desk. The other two’s soft cocks hardening again as they watched.

Toji smirked down at you, “Look at how dirty they have you.” Dragging his finger across your plump bottom lip, “Seems they’ve already done a number on ya. Shame that i have to add onto that.”

The man freed his cock from his pants, being way thicker and longer than the other to. You swallowed hard, your pussy getting wet at the thought of that in you.

Toji groaned, bringing his finger down to your cunt to dip into your sopping hole. “They couldn’t even open you up enough to take me. Looks like i’m about to ruin that fucking pussy.”

You mewled loudly when Toji lifted you up and in line with his cock. Already manhandling your body into a folded position to use you as his flesh light.

“Gonna break your slutty body baby, you ready for that?” Toji didn’t even give you a chance to respond before thrusting you down onto his cock. A loud cry falling off your tongue as his cock bulged in your stomach. Your pussy stretching to accommodate his girth.

“One of you. Come eat her out.” Gojo was quick to walk up to you, sitting on the sturdy desk and connecting his tongue to your cunt as Toji began to fuck himself using your pussy. Roughly lifting you on and off his cock, your moans deafening as he kissed your g spot right before kissing your cervix. Geto’s tongue swirling around your clit was a groan. Swallowing down your sweetness eagerly.

Geto stood jerking off again, his fist circling around his tip before stroking his length.

Your brain slowly turned to mush as you were fucked dumb. Gojo falling to his knees at the same time Toji decided to sit with you out his lap. His hands under your knees which were pressed up into your chest. Pounding into you with no mercy while Gojo suckled at your clit.

You mewled loudly, your head falling back onto Toji’s chest as your sensitive body was toyed with. Feeling another intense orgasm quickly bubbling in yours stomach as Toji’s cock hit a new angle. Hammering directly into your spot with force.

Geto appeared in front of your face, tapping his cock on your lips and watching as you opened up as wide as you can. Your moans and cries being muffled as your legs started to quiver. Geto groaned, easing himself fully past your lips and settling at the back of your tongue.

Your noises increased in volume when Gojo began flicking his tongue onto the swollen bud. Your pussy tightening on Toji’s cock while you sloppily attempted to suck Geto off. The man eventually taking the lead by fucking into the warmth of your mouth instead.

His heavy breaths mixing with your throaty cries and Toji’s deep groans. Creating an atmosphere of nothing but lewdity. Toji grunted, “You’re a real slut huh?” And you only whined into Geto, the noise sending vibrations a his body.

Gojo smirked against your skin, “We tell her that all the time, our personal little cum dump.” Going batch to latching his mouth onto you making you let out a choked moan.

You reflexively came off of Geto’s cock when you felt yourself about to cum. Your eyes rolled back and your forehead sweaty as your heart raced. Geto forcing his cock back into your mouth before you could get anything out. Tears welling in your eyes as your orgasm washed over you.

“Is our good little slut cumming for us?” Gojo teased, sucking harshly to drive you crazy. His mouth opening in anticipation as another squirting orgasm recked through you. The immense pleasure burning your stomach as you let go. Messily drenching Gojo’s face and the desk in front of you.

Toji’s thighs also becoming soaked as he fucked against the forceful sprays threatening to push his cock out. “Shit.” he husked, his cock twitching when you began to come down from your high. Your chest heaved, vision fading in and out as Geto began spilling into your mouth, the thick liquid sliding down your throat making you gag.

“Fuck- pussy feels like it was made to be bred.” Toji breathed, the thrusts slowing down as he released weeks’ worth of cum into you. Swelling your belly and you groan softly at the continuous feeling of being filled up.

Toji let his cock slip out of you, the still hard length springing into the air

Gojo placed a soft kiss to your cunt before he stood up with a smirk. His cum staining his pants from his cock rubbing against the fabric while he ate you out.

Gojo kissed your lips softly, a small smiling gracing your face. “Did so well for us. Such a good girl.” you let out a well needed breath. “‘M tired..” you mumbled.

Geto speaking up from where he stood, “Gotta get you cleaned up first baby.”

You shook your head sleepily, ignoring the feeling of multiple sets of cum flowing from your pussy as you closer your eyes. Snuggling closer to Toji’s hard chest before falling asleep.

Toji’s finger made soothing shapes on your skin, his voice calm and his face holding a spine chilling smile. “You’re lucky i don’t fire your asses for taking my claim before me.”

Gojo and Geto scratching the back of their heads nervously.

“But,” Toji continued, looking down at your pretty face as you slept. Your chest rising and falling softly. “We got more important things on our hands, like truly making her feel like she did a good job.” The other two nodding in agreement.

Toji already had something in mind, but he wondered how long it would be until you woke up.

[ghoulphile]

run rabbit run | c.h/the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 869 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, mildly dubious consent (kinda?), dom!coop, bareback, cum play, degradation kink, biting, pet names (bunny), man-handling, doggystyle, drabble, coop's gotta fuck you full so the ferals can't smell you ➥ summary | "the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time" ➥ notes | do not look @ me rn 🫣 i feel like i've exposed myself too much lol masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

He found the rabbit among endless dunes of rock and rubble; a frightened, jumpy little beast that required a firm hand to tame, and an even steadier one to control.

And while it would’ve been easier to dump ‘em at Super Duper Mart -- get his caps worth, pounds of flesh for vials of chem -- he took a shine. Now, what exactly it is about you that captured his attention so thoroughly, he can’t be sure (though he could hazard a few guesses).

What he does know is this: if it wasn’t for him, you’d have been killed a million times over by raiders, fiends, and ferals alike. Always finding your way into trouble as soon as his back is turned.

Like now.

So if he’s a little rough with you, it’s only because he had to haul ass half-way across the flooded district when he heard you scream.

Nevermind the hard lurch of his heart, the sensation of his stomach droppin’ to his feet. You were supposed to be safe, holed up in the building he cleared yesterday.

Surprise, surprise; you decided to go poking where you shouldn’t, and now he’s gotta rescue your dumb ass. Skidded around a bombed out building only to find you fighting off a small pack of ferals, their rotted hands scratching at your arms and their teeth gnashing at your face.

Goddamn it.

Same shit, different day.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” he snarls, chapped lips pressed tight against your ear as sharp hip bones rut into the softness of your ass. “You’re dumber than shit sometimes.”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t - hhahh, slow down - didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Your hands scramble for purchase, nail beds aching from how hard you’re digging at the dirt.

Shoved onto the ground, pants sagging around your thighs as a stray rock digs into your cheek, scraping up the tender skin. “Won’t do it again, I promise.”

The Ghoul snorts, delivers a stinging nip to the tip of your ear. Your reedy whine soothes some of the agitation but he’s still bristling, aggression threaded through with tendrils of panic he refuses to acknowledge.

“I highly doubt that.”

You hiccup, knees spreading wide as your back dips - trying to get away, to get closer.

The fat head of his cock keeps hitting your cervix with every stroke, little fissions of pain kissed pleasure racketing up your spine as he stretches you past your limits and fucks you open.

Your gummy walls swollen and raw from the constant friction of his shaft, the rad burns scraping your insides up. Clit aching and so wet you’re dripping, a damp patch of earth beneath you.

“No, promise I’ll be good!” You pant, the scent of sunbaked soil and stagnant water heavy in your nose. “Please, please, please.”

Everything aches, limbs sore from your tussle and pride bruised as sweat dapples your brow, sticks the fine baby hairs to the back of your neck.

A hand clamps down on your hip so hard bones grind, yanking you back into every punishing thrust. Heavy balls smack against your clit on the in-stroke, stoking the embers of your desire. Your toes curl in your boots.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, bunny.” The Ghoul grabs your elbow with his free hand, tugging you up into his chest so his chin hooks over your shoulder, breath puffing along the side of your cheek. “You just don’ know when ta learn. So I’m gonna have’ta teach you. An’ I’ll do it as many times as it takes, you hear?”

You sniffle, nuzzling the back of your head against his face. “I mean it,” you say. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know there’d be any ferals around. Was just trying to find some more food.”

Groaning, his hips kick forward in a softer grind, still so deep you feel him in your stomach - pussy filled to the brim with cock - but not as harsh as before. As close as you’ll get to an apology until he’s done.

“This is your fault - you got ‘em all riled. Now, we gotta make you smell like me so take your punishment like a good bunny 'fore I decide ta eat you instead.”

And you do, letting him rut into you until he’s satisfied, aching and so swollen by the end of it that he has to bully his way in with every thrust, your pussy clamping down and milking him for all he’s worth.

When he finally does pump you full, you’re dumb and dripping. Limp limbed and sagging into the ground - only held up by the cage of his arms. Thighs shaking and clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat as he wrings every last bit of pleasure out of you.

“Sometimes,” he says, sitting back on his heels to watch as his cum oozes out of you in a sticky rush, dripping down your folds, “I think dumb bunnies like you are only good fer one thing.”

You whine when his thumb whispers over your clit, caressing your folds as he gathers up his spend. Gently fucks it back into you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. 

“But that’s all right, I like ‘em a lil dumb.”

[screampied]

pls pls pls can we get some overstimulating toji, Hes whimpering so much, maybe tie his hands up 👀🙏 love u twin

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji letting you "top" him

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, whiney toji, riding him after he cūms, dirty talk, mdni.

“hmph. you’re gettin’ too fuckin’ cocky,” toji gruffs lowly, leaning back against the padded comforter. dark eyes stare right back into you as you straddle his lap. he’s buried into you, and he was just about to finish. his breaths were quick paced, huffing and puffing. white clouds of air escape his lips as he keeps dark irises on each of your fidgety movements. “wipe that smile of y’er face. don’t like when ya give me that look.”

you hum, leaning in to toss your arms over his wide shoulders. whilst he’s stretching your gummy walls out to the very fullest— you lean in to plant a kiss near the right side of his lip, soft contact right against his infamous slanted scar. a soft moan always withdraws from his lips whenever you did that. the toughness that scraps against your mouth as you plant your lips down on that specific spot. “or …what?” you tease, grinding your hips just a bit more brisker at a fleeting tempo. “aw, someone’s getting close?”

“fuuuck,” he growls out, pearly white canines sticking out near the very corners of his mouth. toji’s head throws back in rapture and he feels your hand glide down the middle part of his chest. his shaggy, unkempt bare chest—all types of scars from his work that you love to feel all over. he’s about to pump you full, the blissful agitation that pokes against his nerves makes him feral. “sensitive still,” and with a low exhale, he glares at your stretching sly smile. “don’t give me that look. don’t …. even—f-fuck..”

and at that exact moment, toji fushiguro whined.

you grow quiet. he grows so quiet, it’s so silent that you could hear a pen drop.

toji swallows, even a simple action as that was just so loud. he groans, leaning back against the fat silk pillows before he stares at you with low hooded eyes.

“s-shit,” and his voice continues to grow more . . . shaky.

it’s so unlike him, the way his words quaver from each word was so cute to hear. you even had his hands tied up, pinned amongst the edges of the bed. he was sprawled all out for you while you were grinding against his lap.

“i spoil you too much, f-fuckin’ little girl,” and he’s clearly trying to keep up his rough facade— but alas, it’s really no use.

“you’re cute when you whine, baby,” you smooch against the scar near the right side of his lip.

his mouth twitches in vexation and you watch as his eyes roll further back.

his abdomen— oh, it burns into a mild volume of arousal, he’s profusely sweating before he feels himself about to break. each time you sneak a kiss against his scar, he groans. “mwah,” you tease, treating the lower part of his face with such delicacy. toji was shooting you a look of grimace. briefly—he tried to keep up his stubborn antics, but his glare only turned into lewd eye rolls from how good you clamp against his cock. it’s so good, the saturation of your sopping wet pussy squeezing down on him tight, he’s going dumb by the minute. “it’s okay, toji. you can cum.”

“don’t tell me what to d—” and he gets cut off before he quite literally does cum, it’s abrupt. toji’s quavering underneath you as he dumps a thickset load of seed into you. “shit, fuckin’ damn,” he heaves. his breath was heavy as he’s leaning all the way back now. with a hand still gripped onto your left hip, he sinks into the weightlessness nirvana that awaited him. “fuuck,” he pants, a rough hand grasping your ass— for a solid moment, toji grows quiet and the only sounds that’s could have been made were the sloshes of your cunt accepting his seed. somehow he managed to rip off the restraints on his wrists—wasting no time to finally touch you. in the midst of still rocking your hips in a circular rotation again toji—it consists of such satiny ropes, you’ve never felt more stuffed. “ugh, fuckin’ slut. got me moanin’ for you like this-”

you giggle, gifting him with a chaste kiss. “i’m not done, baby. keep up with me, okay?”

toji’s caught by surprise once you start to move your hips again, accelerating them against him and he whines. “f-fuck, the fuck? girl, ‘jus fuckin’ came . . sensitive, goddamnnn.”

it was cute, the way his low raspy voice pitches up an octave— he’s whimpering, the rapid movements of your pussy having him practically speechless. with his twitching dick now flaccid, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist. a raw groan only then wrenches from the back of his throat.

“can’t cum anymore, f-fuck, ‘m still sensitive,” he babbles, softly pulling you by the neck to give him a kiss.

and by kiss, it was more sloppy than anything. with wet tongues moving against each other in tavern, he feels you grinding again and again.

toji’s so warm. he can feel his heartbeat coercively pulsating through his ears. your tender touch against him had him so needy. even while having him like this— he was still attractive, yet that’s when you grab his wrists, making him pin them back again. “fuck are ya d-doing.”

“no touching me, baby,” you hum, and his glare returns. with pinkish crimson lips squeezing into a scowl, his darkened eyebrows curl into a furrow. “touch me after you give me another one, yeah?”

he swallows, toji couldn’t believe how dominant you were being. it was rare to get him like this, even rare to be on top of him.

“fuckin’ brat,” he grouses, his muscles near his forearms tensing. your cunt’s involuntarily constricting around his massive length. your walls hug him tightly before he starts to pant more and more. “fine. f-fine, just kiss me again…… please.”

you lean in, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders before pulling him into a deep kiss.

he’s so sensitive—heavy, hot huffs of breaths gnashing together, he whines again in your mouth. toji shivers, feeling the print of your thumb brush down against his undercut. he groans, feeling your hips start to pick up pace again and he pulls away to breathe. “phew,” he puffs out, seeing nothing but pure stars. you rode him so good that he didn’t even have a witty comeback.

toji’s entire face was all flustered, he glowers once he sees your smug grin tug against your lips. “what.”

“you should whine more,” you pause your hips, leaning in to pepper a few kisses against his cheek. he’s so fluttered—still heaving through his full lungs, eyelids halfway open as a big arm wraps around your waist. toji pulls you close, despite how embarrassed he was—he took it as a opportunity to pull you closer towards him. “you sound so cute when you’re whiney.”

“shut up,” he pouts, avoiding eye contact. toji’s still stuffed inside of you before he grunts once he feels you starting to move then stop. “m-mhm. don’t stop though. keep going.”

you giggle, bringing a single finger to stroke his cheek. “say please, toji.”

“fuckin—” he starts, sending you straight daggers. he’d argue further but he was still deeply buried into you. just a quick move with your hips and he’d start whining again from the euphoric friction. “fine. fine, just finish fucking me, please.”

“good boy,” you kiss the top of his head, starting up your hips again and he brings you into his chest, wrapping his beefy arms around you before whimpering into your neck.

he swallows, seeping his teeth into the crevice of your neck. “shut u-mhm,” and he slumps back with a pussydrunk smile on his face. “actually….praise me more. call me that again, ‘n look at me when you do.”

“good boy, toji,” you repeat in a sweet voice, picking up his head to make him stare into your eyes—he’s still panting before he leans back, groaning, shuddering from your touch. “such a good boy.”