#this took some work but i freaking loved it

[burningembers91]

Freak of Nature - The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The Salesman can't get enough of you, he's drawn to you like a bee to honey. It's just a shame you don't know he's watching you.

A/N: I'm not 100% sure where I want this to go yet, and i've never written for a character like The Salesman before but Gong Yoo's unhinged performance has me hooked!

Warnings: 18+ only!, stalking, The Salesman needs his own warning

He’d always known he was fucked up; had always known he wasn’t “normal”. From a young age, his parents had thrown every penny available at psychologist after psychologist, desperate to find a cure for their little freak of nature. Nothing had worked though; nothing had been able to quell that constant desire deep within his soul.

He’d spent years being forced to subdue whatever demons he housed, fooling his parents into thinking the therapy was working. Nothing could save him though; nothing could rid him of the evil that had taken root. He enjoyed playing with people, relished in seeing how far he could take a person before they completely snapped. Human life was so fragile and fickle; why shouldn’t he be allowed to play with it? People so often wasted their lives; took what little time they had for granted. If anything, he was helping people. He was giving them a chance at a second opportunity for life. The games he played with people, the innocent, childhood games were all completely legal. He never made anyone do anything they didn’t want to, that was beauty of his job. Everyone always had a choice, he just made it hard for them to say no. People were greedy, hungry for fame and fortune. He gave those who sought riches beyond their wildest dreams a chance to make that dream a reality; it wasn’t his fault if they didn’t win the game.

This life he led was a lonely one though. Relationships had never been his forte. He’d always been too much for women, too intense. He had needs, desires that few could meet and those who could only stayed a short time. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of love. He knew he’d never loved his parents, had never loved any of the women he’d fucked. They were merely an object which he used to meet his own needs, all of them too vain and fickle for him. He enjoyed a challenge, wanted someone who could keep him on his toes. But how would he find someone like that when even he didn’t know how far he was wiling to go? How high did his freak flag fly? No one had ever stayed long enough for him to find out. He usually paid for the company of a woman, handing them wads of cash so he could feel a brief moment of ecstasy. He’d never felt anything for these women though; had never felt the burning desire that he felt when he was around you.

He'd watched you every day for three months now, sipping your latte in the same coffee bar, your laptop open as you marked your students work. You always sat in the same spot, right by the window with the view of the park opposite. He’d taken to sitting on a bench in that park, right opposite where you sat. He’d watched as your brow furrowed while you marked essays, he’d smile at the way your perfect pink tongue delicately flicked the frothy coffee foam from your top lip. You were perfect to him, so innocent and excruciatingly delicate. He’d followed you home a few times, keeping enough of a distance that you didn’t notice him in the crowds, but close enough that the floral scent of your perfume wrapped tightly around his senses like a hangman’s noose.

He knew you lived in a small studio apartment, number 235. Your bedroom looked out over a small restaurant, and he’d sit there some nights, watching the shadows of your form through your curtains. He’d never been this enamoured with a person before, never craved a person as much as he did you. He’d listened to you order your coffee a dozen times, your voice more beautiful than any songbird. He wanted to speak to you, but he didn’t want to shatter the perfect vision he’d created for himself. In his head, he broke you over and over again, but you enjoyed it. In his head, you were his, bending to his every will and demand. In his head, you were his perfect girl. But fantasy was always better than reality, and reality never lasted long. He wasn’t quite ready to show himself to you, choosing to lurk in the shadows as you remained blissfully unaware of him.

It was getting harder and harder to stay away from you though. Every day your very presence only fuelled his desires. One day soon he’d have to show himself to you. He just hoped you lived up to his expectations.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / A03

Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.

Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.

“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.

“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”

“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.

“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”

“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”

He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”

Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”

“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”

“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.

“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”

“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”

Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Sans Tiff, of course.

“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.

It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.

“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”

“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.

“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.

Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."

The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.

As expected, Eddie took the bait.

“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”

“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”

“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”

“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”

Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”

“No.”

“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.

“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.

Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.

The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.

Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.

That was what they lived for.

“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”

Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.

Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?

(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)

Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.

“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”

“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.

Oh, for the love of—

“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”

The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.

That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.

(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”

“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.

The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.

“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”

“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”

Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.

“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.

Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.

“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”

The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.

“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.

I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.

“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.

“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)

“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.

He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.

“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”

“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.

“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.

Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.

Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.

His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.

Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”

“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why not Jeff!?”

“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth,  "get to tackle romance.”

“When did we all agree to this shit?!”

“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided.  Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.

Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.

“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.

“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…

Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.

And Gareth sucked ass at sports.

“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.

He could handle this.

He just...

Needed a plan.

Things were easier with plans--right?

(Wrong.)

xXx

“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.

Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.

it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…

Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?

“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver." 

That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.

(And, of course,  gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.) 

They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.

It was odd, to say the least.

So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?

With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.

For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.

“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.

This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.

She was given two different middle fingers in response.

Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.

“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.

He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.

Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”

Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”

“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”

Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”

He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”

Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”

“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”

“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.

It was still too close for comfort.

Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire. 

“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)

“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly. 

"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose."  Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”

“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”

“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”

"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--" 

“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.

“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”

“He,"  Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”

“Well that’s not helping, is it?”

“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”

“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”

“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.

Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.

“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.

(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.) 

“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background. 

Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.

The fucking overachiever.

“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.” 

“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments. 

He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.

Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.

He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.

Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”

“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.

The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.

“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.

“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red. 

“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.

“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”

“Okay…?”

“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.

Steve broke into laughter immediately.

“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.

Grant moaned like a dying thing. 

“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.

“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.

“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.

"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!" 

“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.

“Oh, screw you  Jeff!”

“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?

“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.

“I don’t have ice cream money!”

“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”

"Oh. Thanks!" 

“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross. 

Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?” 

Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either. 

“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”

Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.

“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.

Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”

“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”

“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.

“She’s the assistant manager!”

“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”

He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”

Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense. 

“Eddie.”

“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream. 

"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"

Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours." 

Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.

It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.

Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.

He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.

Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.

It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.

If they messed this up...

It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.

And that wasn’t fair.

"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."

When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.

...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.

xXx

On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.

Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.

“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.

“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.

She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.

After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process).  Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.

Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress. 

(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.

A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.

Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.

Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.

Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.) 

“Steve!”

Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”

“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."

“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”

“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.

“Ste-eeve!”

Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.

One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.

“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.

“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.

“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”

“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.

Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.

“I hate my life.” He moaned.

“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”

Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.

Gareth and Dustin both applauded. 

“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.

(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”

Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.

“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.

“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)

“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.

“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.

“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.

“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.

“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged. 

“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.

“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”

“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.

“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”

At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”

Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.

(Because she did.)

“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;

“Do you speak Russian!?”

“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”

“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.

‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.

Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.

(He missed but it was the thought that counts.) 

“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”

Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.

“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”

“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.

Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.

“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”

“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”

They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.

(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)

“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”

“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”

“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.

“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”

“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”

Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--

Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.

Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.

(Ruh-roh.)

“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”

“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.

Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.

“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”

“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand. 

“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”

Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.

“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.

Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.

Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.

If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.

(He could already picture it.

Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?

Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?

Yeah.

Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)

“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”

“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”

Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.

“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”

Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover. 

“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”

Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code." 

Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder. 

“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.

(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)

“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”

His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life. 

“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.

“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”

If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk. 

You know, if Steve finally let him do it.

(Steve did not let him do it.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.

Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.

“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”

“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”

“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?” 

“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.

“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.

'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin. 

Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?

(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)

“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.

"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly.  "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong." 

Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas. 

“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.

No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.

“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.

Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.

Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.

Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.

(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”

“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"

"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."

"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"

He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.

Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…

“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”

“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”

“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.

Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.

A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…

Well.

Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.

It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.

Not exactly something you could reason with.

Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.

“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.

Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.

“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug.  “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”

Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club." 

Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.

(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.

His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.

Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.

Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.

Eddie…

Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)

“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve was alarmed immediately.

“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.

“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”

Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.

Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.

“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”

Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”

“I trust you.” Steve said, painfully earnest. “Just…be careful, yeah? Hargrove’s not…”

He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.

(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)

“Just be careful.” Steve finished.

Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.

“Always am!”

“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”

He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.

Bonus

In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.

The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”

(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)

“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”

“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”

“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”

He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.

A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.

“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.

Stupid athletes and their jock powers.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.

Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.

“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!) 

He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.

Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--

“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”

Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen. 

“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”

Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”

It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.

He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.

Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.

What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…

He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.

Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”

And finally, Gareth had his opening.

He pounced. 

“Do you like her?” 

“As a person I do.” 

Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”

Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice. 

“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed. 

Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.

Pity their time had run up.

“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.

“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”

Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?” 

“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat. 

Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”

Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.

It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.

A place to start.

And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).

“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—

Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.

There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...

When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.

‘Well,’ Gareth thought. ‘Shit.’

[danacaptus]

𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑!𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ

kinda dark, kidnap, ex!Michael x reader, short

Boyfriend!kaiser who got dumped by his girlfriend for getting too aggressive and scary :o

kidnapper!kaiser who couldn't move on :(

ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹ The cold of the floor sent chills up your spine, The punishment was definitely working, because you were feeling a bit of regret right now. Maybe If you hadn't tried to escape this wouldn't be happening :(

When you broke up with Kaiser you were genuinely scared. You just packed up and left his place when he was in his practice, went to your apartment and texted him a simple message saying that he was getting a little bit "too aggressive" and that he was scaring you off. But you didn't expect him to freak out so much─ You hoped that maybe he would apologize, maybe beg a bit? But that was just a hope, and he clearly wasn't begging for your forgiveness in his replies. You were acting like he beat you up, like─ maybe he slapped you sometimes, and a time or another he punched you... But he didn't use all his strength─ at least no most of the time! You were just exaggerating

"???"

"the fuck?"

"You are a drama queen, im going home right now."

Oh, he was ready to show you how stupid you were, to slap some sense into you─but then, you weren't at home, and none of your things were here. He hopes this is some kind of joke because now, he DOES feel like beating you up. He is definitely not panicking!

"Where are you?"

"Now you're going out without even telling me?"

"Where are your things? What is your problem?"

"."

"Reply, bitch"

It actually made you a bit sad to see him all confused while spamming you messages, so you decided to reply one last time, for the sake of your new old relationship

"I told you we breaking up, im sorry"

With that, You muted his messages and let him spam. You really thought that was the start of a new stage in your life; even when you missed him everyday, everytime he showed up to your apartment you ignored him; then you changed the lock of your house, letting him bang your door till he was fighting with a neighbor who told him to stop making so much noise in a apartments complex.

Kaiser couldn't believe this, you were LEAVING him? You told him you would love him forever even with his small flaws, in fact, he thought he had you thinking that you were the one with defects in the relationship; everytime he hurt you was your fault, you were dumb and annoying, even when that was exactly how he wanted you to be. But now you were acting like you were too clever, you should have known you were lucky to have someone like him, someone who put up with you even if you were an idiot. And he would never find someone like you, and realizing that even more everyday was killing him. You were his, you would always be. So he didn't think that lockpicking your apartment door at night is a big deal, and tying you in his room is not a big deal either, after some weeks he even let you walk around the rooms the house! Obviously not out the house though.

But you didn't know how to appreciate his kindness, and thats how you ended tied in a dark empty room; hungry, dressed only in your underwear, an AC blasting freezing cold air and a ridiculously thin but warm blanket threw teasingly in the other side of the room, out of your reach. He left you here after last night he caught you red-handed─ He was kind enough to let you go wander around, but you had to try to open the window and leave, You couldn't just stay there, waiting for him─ He took the time to give you a few hits before leaving you in that room.

You just hoped that it was already getting later, that michael would finally arrive and forgive you, take you out from this room. Your eyes were fluttering shut; daydreaming about going out here, eating a delicious meal and putting on some warm clothes. You were almost asleep when Kaiser finally burst in, the warmth from outside and the sudden sound of the door waking you up.

"M-Michael!" You felt strangely glad, inmediately trying to go to him when the ropes yanked you back, leaving you like a whining mess. "M-Michael! Please, forgive me! Im not trying to scape again" you sniffed, wiping the tears away from your eyes to see him clearly, he could save you from here even if he was the one who put you in this situation. He was still annoyed but he held back a smirk, bending down to untie your ropes. You tried to hug him, to make him forgive you, but he just pushed you away. "You are a pathetic bitch, trying to scape and then acting like this. I hope you learned a lesson" he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind him. "You better be glad i just locked you up here, if you make something like that again i doubt you'll make out alive" he lied, he obviously would never kill you on purpose. You just needed a little scare.

"Y-yes, Michael... Im sorry" he dragged you to his bedroom, throwing you some clothes. "Yeah, whatever, i forgive you. Get dressed and make me some dinner, quick" he said with arrogance, condescension dripping from his voice. He was happy that you were finally noticing that you shouldn't be stubborn with him

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝓑𝗒 @lil-liaa

[mamawasatesttube]

and that's a wrap!!!

well... congratulations to the 6.7% of you who got this one! that's right. which one of these is a lie?

He blew up Mount Rushmore (with Young Justice) to rescue Secret.

young justice (1998) #17

kon did NOT blow up mount rushmore with young justice to save secret! kon wasn't there at all!! this was part of the "sins of youth" arc, from yj98 #17-19. the fact that mount rushmore got blown up at all was part of the agenda's plan to sabotage young justice's reputation by replacing kon with match - in "young justice: sins of youth #1" tim even points out that this behavior was highly uncharacteristic of the real kon!

as for the rest, quick answers/citations under the cut:

He missed an R.E.M. concert to go on a quest to save Superman from space jail.

action comics #716

part of one of my favorite arcs: the trial of superman! what's better than this, the 90s superfam going on a field trip to rescue big blue from space jail???

A villain once attacked him because he was really mad about Kon being pretty.

action comics #823

so this guy is like a huge incel or whatever but this is so fucking funny. like... you think hes a pretty boy? um... dude do you wanna talk about it?

After his death, Kara Zor-El took and wore one of his shirts.

supergirl (2005) #9

to be clear. this is not a good issue. this issue is in fact really bad for the most part. but it has crumbs that i take and run with okay? the bit of kara going into kon's room and quietly sitting with her grief is one of those!!!

also wow. i wasn't expecting that many people to fall for this one!

The first thing he did when he met Match was declare him his family.

superboy (1994) #36

"quit your job. join my clone union"

He once got drugged, hunted, enslaved, and kept as a human pet for two months.

superboy (1994) #50 - #53

yeah this is the arc where he got drugged and enslaved by furries for two months and it was extremely fucked up and tragic but also impossible to take seriously because ??? the furries ??? but also listen to me. this arc was so fucked up

Using TTK, he destroyed every single gun in L.A. in a single instant.

superboy (1994) #84

yeah he did. ttk just fucks that hard. everyone who thought this was false, take notes.

He once put on a Batman mask and pretended to try to give Tim the sex talk.

superboy (1994) #85

not only did he do this, but also it was literally how he coped with the fact that he freaked himself out by dismantling every single gun in la. kind of amazed that that many people voted for this one tbh. annoying tim (as both a love language a coping mechanism) is literally one of kon's top skills.

He tried to get Nat Irons to call him "Boris" (but it didn't work).

steel (1994) #46

another of my all time favorite issues tbh. the kon & nat bonding is so important to me. their friendship is everything

John Henry Irons had to stop him from committing suicide.

action comics #767

kon-el your fucking issues... this bit does make me insane i can't lie. he premeditated it. he knew he would shoot himself in the head after he took down all the kryptonite nanobots he was fighting (long story. read critical condition arc <3). he lied to linda about it.

anyway kon & steel make me wail. i love their bond.

He had a Nightwing zine in his room at the Kent farm.

batgirl (2000) #41

right there on his bed next to his top rock music magazine !!! nightwing zine of some sort baybee!!

He befriended Ma and Pa Kent before he ever knew Clark Kent was Superman.

superman (1987) #155

HE SURE DID!!!!!!! and hes SO fuckign cuuuute. little dipshit. clark is so taken aback skjdhfdk poor guy had a horrible day and came to see his parents bc he was just feeling So Down and then walked in to find the world's most annoying little idiot at their kitchen table. i love this issue so much. (it's the same one where clark teaches kon how to milk a cow!!!!)

it's been a minute! let's play kon-el eleven truths and a lie again!!!!

[melancholicstation]

CONSIDERING AVIATION? - a bobby kennedy one-shot

summary: turns out this attorney general is definitely prone to peer pressure by pretty women! who could've guessed that. authors note: of course gimagus was not around in the sixties (though i do try to dress the readers in period appropriate clothes) the reader's outfits are literally an apparition of my ssense shopping cart at a specific time! feel no pressure to imagine them that way. let that fashion freak flag fly high! shout out to @remotewatch for indulging in airport bobby kennedy and giving inspiration!

tags: @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel @absurdlyvintage

warnings: none just bobby being peer pressured into taking off his shirt but he loves it more than he ought to!

words: 2,308

A lot of people probably thought you were crazed for selecting a career path in the sector of aviation—with all it's arduous work schedule, time away from friends and family, and draining time zone changes. But nevertheless you loved it.

"Do you think I'm crazy For considering aviation? I'm a fan of flying...

As a child of a particularly affluent New England family you enjoyed the pleasure of flying often in your childhood—your beloved aupair dutifully carrying behind you your soft shell carry-on luggage bag containing various cotton pique dresses and chemises, along with a backpack containing note pads and pencils to do your homework between flights.

Safe to say growing up flying across the globe gave you an innate fixation on it advancing into it as a career path in adulthood. Which is exactly how you got here, being an air hostess for Texas' biggest airline in the state: Air Texas.

Why not do it for the nation? Cause I have nothing else to do...

Safe to say your parents weren't the biggest fans of your particular career path. Your mother wanted you to be some sort of home-maker living it up in North Connecticut in a weatherboard house, sedated out of your mind on blue pills making jello moulds all day—okay maybe that's not exactly transcribing what she said but you get the gist!

In opposition your father always had dreams of you becoming a middle school teacher, claiming you had a certain way with children. However, you would beg to differ if a particular heated fight with one of your teenage cousins on Christmas morning ending in tears and a very unhappy look on both of your parents faces was anything to go by.

Instead of submitting to either of your parents wishes you bucked the trend and got a big degree in philosophy of all things, to which your father calmly explained that he would not spend over four thousand dollars into Harvards pockets just to facilitate a degree that would leave you severely and desperately unemployed.

But, because he's your father he relented, as you thought most fathers ought to do with their daughter's aspirations.

However you can't he was entirely wrong on the whole unemployment rate of philosophy students. Well-paying employers weren't exactly falling over themselves to find young, freshly-graduated philosophy majors to hire. So when Air Texas provided you with an opportunity you took it with absolute and total vigour.

Have a big degree in philosophy But I don't know what I want to be...

Working for an airline was, to you at least, a pretty stable method of income which payed you to basically talk shit with other twenty-something women and have limited contact with the on-board passengers, bar simply asking them if they want orange juice or coffee with their plastic covered, stale piece of bread to go along with their miso soup that is probably still in the best by date. Probably.

All in all it was a good gig, with a stellar choice of wardrobe.

Getting ready for your job was a relatively easy and stress-free task for you. First step was to wash yourself and hair in rose water, then carefully assemble your hair into smooth waves with the front sections pulled back by two ivory chignon hair pins engraved with the company namesake. Moving onto makeup was easy: fresh skin with a powdered t-zone, red lacquered lips, and a tawn beige blush to the cheeks.

So I'm going into aviation, yeah, mom I'm going into aviation, yeah, dad Going into aviationI'm going into aviation...

The uniform in its basic form was relatively strict: white ballerina toe high boots in white, low rise mini skirt or denim micro shorts in white paired with a halter fitted top in a cotton-linen blend also in white.

The details, however, in your uniform were more customizable. A hat was required so you chose a paperboy denim cap, a pair of butterfly lenses and with some more affixing of random jewellery pieces you'd possibly stolen from your grandmothers estate years ago, you were all but ready to head to work.

You'd thought today to be a relatively normal work day, that was until you attended the mandatory briefing meeting required before every flight and was informed that a member of "very high influence" had loaned out the aircraft for the day and that your boss had offered staff to service those on board.

How curious.

You'd never really heard of famous people being able to loan out commercial airplanes, you'd heard that more often than not they fly private—which made you realise that it was more than likely going to be a large volume of passengers boarding the flight to even start to justify what you imagined would be a gargantuan loan price tag.

After briefing was done you'd forgotten mostly about it till boarding—besides it wasn't the first time a famous person had flown public before. Though somehow it was always your most hated colleague that got to unfairly serve said famous person tea or coffee instead of you, so the star-power of a boarding passenger didn't all that much change your workday or your mood.

At least it hadn't until now.

You'd begun boarding and preparing for the short three hour flight without much fuss—being informed that the group would arrive in the next hour. So you used the time to make coffee for your three closet work girlfriends: Renee, Colleen, and Virginia. Now, you'd never say this to them face to face but them being there made those arduous flight hours worth it to you, and they were the only ones who would indulge your inclination to lightly gossip about passengers. Lightly, of course.

You'd all assumed your positions as boarding came into session, as if on auto-pilot you simply did your job: politely meeting the eyes of passengers, giving them each an earnest smile. But, after the 5th passenger you'd started to see a pattern linking each person from the next—and it wasn't that they were just from the same group loaning the plane, they all donned a specific sort of pin.

Initially they moved much too quick for you to discern any sort of writing on the pin, but once a women kneeled down to slide her cabine trunk under her seat you could clearly make out the content of the pin: the pin writing "Kennedy" in simple, white arial font against a lapis background.

Some wore it on their jacket lapel, others on their tie, and others simply on their mohair sweater.

Huh, must be a Kennedy campaign plane you thought to yourself. Not even really entertaining the idea that the "Kennedy" up for office would be on board at this very moment.

The first thirty minutes of the flight was pretty much smooth sailing all around, from what you gathered the campaign members were all young, vivacious citizens putting in the effort. In a certain light they were incredibly admirable for their efforts, though you didn't know that you quite had it in you to follow a politician to every damn state in the country.

That was until you'd seen his face. That damn face on his face.

To Colleen's credit you weren't the first to spot him, quite frankly because you were so sure a man of his status would be irrevocably be flying private. Always.

She, according to her word had seen him set up shop across two recliner chairs, sitting cross legged with a gentle yet firm hand stroking his cocker spaniel 'Freckles' and another flipping through a manila folder filled to the brim with loose leaf.

What clued you into his arrival however was the loud ruckus that your three friends were making by loudly and not at all discreetly whispering in each others ears in the crew area. Feeling unbelievably left out you race over there desperate to hear whatever they've got to tell, they clue you in with remarkable speed and clarity. Bobby Kennedy is on board right this minute.

Though, it's only when Renee motions your eyes with her hand that you see the main topic of conversation for yourself: Bobby Kennedy quietly reading a book... innocuous enough sure to the naked eye. But after a short inspection you see that not only did he discard his sleeveless sweater vest but that his white button-down has two-less buttons covered than it originally did: making a littering of chest hair subtly apparent to those who looked for it. Giggling with your girls, you started to feel a little bad for objectifying a man who's simply just reading a book but in your mind it was utterly harmless.

After about 5 minutes of ogling you'd been called over to refill the beverage jugs, leaving the three to have their fun with him. But only when you got back you saw just how much fun they were having...

You weren't exactly sure what you had walked into—all you knew was the first thing you saw was bobby being cornered by your very charming and very attractive friends and Virginia saying in a tone bordering on mocking tone, yet exceeding at being sickly sweet,

"Oh C'mon Bobby it's only your shirt! A peek really can't hurt now could it?"

Peeking out from your position in the cabin alcove, you observe a deep red crimson blush wash over his face, bathing it in the kind of expression right before the big dip of a roller coaster: exhilaration meeting intense trepidation all along the features of his greek god like face.

Blushing, he begins to fiddle with the cotton of his button-up, listening intently to the encouragement from your two other friends,

"C'mon Bobby we won't ever tell a single soul, it'll just be our little secret!"

Quietly giggling, as to not give your specific vantage point away, you're deeply shocked when he actually does relent to their request. Sheepishly removing the cotton layer revealing a mosaic of chestnut hair mediated by a taupe natural tan to the skin.

What shocked you even more, however, is that Renee calls out to you, seemingly aware that you had been there the entire time,

"Y/n, honey, come take a picture of us with that Kennedy boy! He's real cute too!"

Groaning internally from the embarrassment of being caught you take the camera from her hands, quickly snapping a few photos of your friends either side of a shirtless Bobby Kennedy.

This would surely be a story to tell at dinner parties, Huh?

Laughing slightly you hand the photos back, to which the girls ogle at the pictures pointing at the picture and calling him over,

"Oh Bobby, Look how darling you look here!"

As if just registering your presence as you were about to leave this very strange bordering on erotic situation. He appears docile as ever quickly nodding at you as if to say hello without actually verbalising it, waving with his left hand.

You wave back warmly and decide to leave the alcove, but not before taking in the utter physical comedy of a United States senator completely shirtless, wearing black trousers adorned with a slate belt, in front of a handful of Texas flight attendants simply at their request.

It's about an hour before you encounter Bobby again, and coincidentally you'd hit the tarmac into the airport about 15 minutes ago, with all passengers boarding off bar one: Bobby.

Apparently he had fallen asleep on the floor of the seat along with his dog and no one had the heart to tell him the planes landed by waking him up. It felt cruel, almost like waking up a newborn fawn in the middle of nap time. Did fawns even have nap time? You didn't quite know.

Taking one for the team, and totally not because you were curious what his face would look like completely rested: not haunted by the daily struggle you were sure he faced being who he was and doing what he did.

Kneeling down you quietly knock on the side of the plastic seat in an effort to wake him up, although that only causes his dog, Freckles, to awake and furiously lick the face of its owner. Which does begin to wake him up.

"Mr Kennedy, Sorry to disturb you but we've arrived at Lafayette Regional Airport."

"That's quite okay—thank you very much"

You notice he's put his button-up and sweater back on, much to your chagrin. Turning away you start to leave to collect your own baggage when you hear an audible stomach groan of hunger from what you can only assess as coming from Bobby as your the only two on the aircraft.

Sympathetic, you reach into your waist pack and fish out some rice crackers, along with a bottled water, and place it on the cushion of the seat in front of him. Leaving food for him to find like a person leaves food out for easily scared woodland creatures.

Coming back to do your final sweep and check of the seats before they were to be cleaned by the cleaning crew for the next flight, you lock eyes with Bobby and trail your eyes down, down, down to a surprisingly, shockingly large bulge in the pant of his trouser, accompanied by a pained from anticipation expression that almost drips over his entire face covering, encasing him whole.

All in all he looks utterly a mess and pathetic, not at all how he should present himself to the adoring fans lined outside the airport immolating his presence. So you do as anyone in your position would do—okay maybe not everyone but you'd wager on most,

"Give me one sec, I'll take care of it I promise."

You leave Bobby alone and catch your three friends unloading their personal carry-ons, you inform them that Bobby's in the bathroom and you'll see him out and make sure everything's in order for the next flight. They eye you suspiciously as if they know what's really going on, but no one dares to share.

They know you'll debrief tomorrow anyway so what's the point in spoiling the fun early anyway?

Safe to say after a good 20 minutes, Bobby Kennedy departs the plane and greets slobbering fans looking more chipper and revitalised than any person ought to look after spending hours on board a metal flying tube... but who were they to speculate on what went on during that flight?

I'm gonna take a vacation, yeah, man Fly fighter jets all over the nation Fly fighter jets all over the nation"

[k-s-morgan]

No pressure, but are you still posting the snippets from your ongoing fics? :]

Another ask: Hi Katrin! Are you going to post a snippet from TGSTLTH?

----

Hi! Yes, sure - as always, so sorry for the delay, I was so excited to share them for the New Year :( But I need to write them first, and you can probably guess what became a problem. Russia sent its 'best wishes' in the early morning of December 31 by launching a missile attack on my city. Then it launched a drone attack, which killed a family and their cat, and it's been trying to attack us almost non-stop ever since. For example, the latest drone attack has been ongoing for over 30 hours now.

Despite this, I actually managed to have an absolutely wonderful New Year. My family and I had so much fun! It was amazing, and there were so many lovely gifts exchanged. Probably one of the best celebrations in my life. I will always remember and cherish it.

A day later, my oldest cat Tom gave me a bad scare, though - he suddenly started roaring in pain out of nowhere. He did it a couple of times during the night, so I completely freaked out and took him to the vet. Fortunately, all the tests and analyses came back surprisingly good, especially considering his age and condition (he has FIV). For now, the doctors think he ate too much of cat hair, so he needs some pain meds and some help getting it out. It seems to work so far, so fingers crossed!

I will try finishing the snippets today or tomorrow. I already know exactly what scenes I want to share, so I just need to get them finally written))

[bookrat]

Pretty sure my little man has a case of abundism affecting the marble tabby coat under all those white splotches

[tradingjackbs]

Attempted to do a photoshoot for the one and only cosplay I'll probably ever do and. These are the only pictures I got that matter

[callixton]

the thing is that sex doesn’t scare me but bodies do which is unfortunately commonly considered an integral part of sex

[valdotjpg]

hey boss, any thoughts on the upcoming elden ring dlc? ur fromsoft takes are always enlightened

dont quote me on this but i thjnk miquella might be in it.

[nnugatoryextravagance]

attenjtion freaks

its me

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt new game+ friend quests and it's just me going ah yes and they have all these issues and talk abt these things and oh oops this is all accidental foreshadowing

[fakegingerrights]

Well... It depends on taste, really.

x Reader is second person and is a really niche writing style that is hard to do well. Even though that's what I post in, I'm no master. And there are different versions of it. The Y/N version (Y N for Your Name, not Yin as a name if yall are anything like a young ginger.) Is typically disliked because of how hard it is to read. Other versions dance around it entirely and leave you with pretty much a cardboard cutout to project onto instead of a person. I try and thread the line, but my x Reader often has a more OC like feel than anything.

Third person is my personal favorite and I'm all for OC's because I think they're neat. I really dislike first person POV but there are some exceptions, such as Doc's Misadventures by @staycalmandhugaclone (They are lovely go read their stuff it has quickly become a comfort series for me.)

The problem for me with first person is it's usually a sign of immature writing in my opinion, and just feels like the author is writing about themselves. Third person feels like I'm watching the story unfold like a movie and is much more enjoyable for me. So, to sum it up

Third person - He/she/they/it/etc - Oh cool, I'm watching my characters be loved from a distance and can appreciate this.

Second person - You/your/you're - Oh cool, I'm loving my characters up close and personal.

First Person - I/me - Oh. The author of this is loving the characters. First person also feels kinda intrusive for me. Unlike third person where I'm watching from a distance as an unseen spectator, First person lets us know the intimate feelings of the POV character, which is why it's so commonly used. This just feels intrusive for me most of the time. If I'm writing a self insert instead of a reader insert, I don't want people reading that because that's between me and the characters. So I dislike first person.

That being said, it's all about finding your audience. First and third have the biggest audience but second person has a good following too. Write what you want. Somebody will like it. I guarantee it.

“x reader is so cringe.” to YOU. im reading this shit and having a ball ‼️

[narcissusneverknewme]

the Earth will never be healed again until China starts producing stuff with a sufficient amount of genderfuckery again. nearly all of the most compelling stuff China has ever produced has featured a significant amount of genderfuckery. that and the gay shit. send X or whatever you fools say now

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn��t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.