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ginnsbaker · 13 hours ago

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All Of Your Pieces (3 - The Neighbor)

Chapter Summary: Agnes sees the perfect opportunity to stir up some trouble while Wanda deals with her jealousy toward your work assistant, Geraldine. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: I really have nothing to say except that I enjoyed writing Agatha in this chapter // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The team has been at a standstill, figuring out who’s behind this, or how to communicate with anyone trapped inside the town. Every drone they've sent in morphs into something entirely different, thwarting their efforts to gather any useful intel. The people sent underground to scout a safe route through have gone dark, their communication cut off. No one else volunteered to attempt approaching the perimeter after that.

The broadcasts they've been tracking are erratic, cutting out for hours with no warning, making it hard to keep a consistent eye on the town's odd behaviors. But it's during one of these quiet periods when something clicks in Darcy's mind.

“I think I have something,” Darcy blurts out to Jimmy. They’ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel, running out of faces to identify from the snippets of life in Westview they caught on screen.

“Yeah?” Jimmy gives her a tired look, only half-listening. He can't remember the last time he managed more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Even if he could find the time to rest, the bizarre situation they're in won't let his mind relax.

Darcy sighs and leads him outside the tent.

“So, you’ve seen that radio on Wanda’s kitchen counter, right?”

Jimmy only nods.

Darcy continues, “The next time she’s washing dishes, or whatever—which by my count—happens about once an episode, barf, we’ll shoot a signal to that little guy.” She leads him to a set of computers set up behind a pickup truck. Jimmy doesn’t understand what’s going on with these systems, but he’s hoping Darcy really is onto something.

“This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast,” she pauses to catch her breath in the cold and to give him time to catch up with her science. “And if my theory is right, it will allow us to speak to her.”

She cuts off any chance for Jimmy to comment and assures him, “This is definitely going to work.”

–

The annual Westview Harvest Festival is in full swing. The town square is packed with booths overflowing with baked goods and fresh fall produce. A small stage is set up for the local band playing tunes from the 70s, while kids dart around in all directions, their faces painted with fanciful designs. Billy and Tommy are with their preschool teachers, who are keeping them and other children their age occupied with arts and crafts that involve tumbleweeds—a material no one seems to think is entirely safe for five-year-olds to play with.

In hindsight, it’s the ideal setting for introductions and mingling. However, everyone here already knows each other—everyone, that is, except for Wanda. She makes an effort to blend in, but apart from a few interactions with the planning committee, which weren’t particularly fruitful, she often remains secluded at home. This makes you, the only one in the household who heads out daily for work, the more socially connected of the two. It’s both amusing and slightly anxiety-inducing to watch you interact with the townsfolk who are essentially strangers to you and to Wanda, if only you knew. You and Wanda never had the opportunity to live a normal life, to settle in a typical city, surrounded by neighbors who could have become integral to the life you might have built together.

Seeing you interact with these people, she’s realizing it’s harder than she thought to share you with others. Or maybe she’s just as selfish as she’s always been, never really outgrowing it. When you were both part of the Avengers, it was like living in a bubble, surrounded by only a few familiar faces every day. Now, outside that controlled environment, it’s challenging her expectations and stirring up feelings she thought she had under control.

It becomes particularly tough when she sees Geraldine heading towards you, sporting that perpetual, dazzling smile full of perfect white teeth. Wanda's fingers curl into a fist, tiny wisps of red energy leaking from them. You quickly cover her hand with yours, and the effect is immediate—she relaxes slightly, letting you intertwine your fingers with hers, anchoring herself by your side where she feels secure.

“It's so nice to see you outside of the office, just being one of us for a change,” Geraldine says, though she seems to be wearing the same uniform as at work. Not that you're judging, but it does make you wonder why she hasn't changed.

“Definitely beats being stuck behind a desk,” you reply, your attention briefly wandering. Only then do you notice that Wanda has subtly withdrawn her hand from yours, now exploring a booth with homemade apple cider. You hadn't even noticed the exact moment she let go.

“Hello, Wanda!” Geraldine greets her warmly.

Wanda musters a tight-lipped smile that’s convincing enough, as Geraldine appears quite taken with it. Just then, Geraldine spots Agnes standing a little away from the crowd, lingering behind Wanda with a look that borders on suspicion or disdain.

Geraldine steps up to her while Wanda continues to busy herself with whatever else is being showcased in the booth. “Hi, I'm Geraldine. Isn’t this a wonderful evening?” She extends her hand to Agnes.

Agnes eyes the offered hand but doesn’t accept it. Instead, she sizes up Geraldine with a quick once-over and nods, foregoing any introductions. Geraldine's smile falters briefly, but she quickly shakes off the slight, tossing a brisk, “See you around, Y/N!” over her shoulder as she heads back to her table.

You wave back and let out a sigh, relieved that you’ve just sidestepped what could have been the most awkward moment of your life. Wanda’s jealousy towards Geraldine seems more serious than you’d realized. You know Wanda can be possessive; it's just been a long time since it's manifested this way. But then, it's also been a while since you've both been in a crowd of strangers like this. Since…

Since when, exactly?

“Y/N, honey?” Wanda’s voice snaps you out of your fog.

You blink. “Hm?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Just like that, you’ve forgotten about your lapse of memory, replaced by a desire to tend to your wife's needs.

“I’ll get us some refreshments. What would you like?” you ask.

“Just some water, please.”

“Water here, too,” Agnes calls out, unsolicited.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. It's great that Wanda's making friends in the neighborhood, but did it really have to be Agnes O’Connor? Ever since you and Wanda moved into this quiet suburb, Agnes has made it her personal mission to be involved in every aspect of your lives. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than the apparent nosiness of your neighbor.

As you head over to get the drinks, Agnes sidles up to Wanda, her eyes gleaming with an opportunity to stir some pot.

“Geraldine seems quite taken with your wife.”

It’s not like Wanda doesn’t know what Agnes’s doing, but she finds herself nodding in agreement anyway. Your new assistant does appear smitten with you, and while Wanda gets the appeal—you are, undeniably, crush-worthy—she can't say she's thrilled about it.

“Y/N is her boss,” Wanda murmurs, more to herself than to Agnes.

“Oh, honey,” Agnes laughs condescendingly. “Do you even go to the movies? That's how the steamiest affairs start, you know.”

Wanda bristles at the sound of that endearment from someone other than you. But she keeps herself together—barely.

“I trust her,” Wanda forces out.

As you're getting drinks, Geraldine joins you, picking up a soda herself. She lets out a light laugh at a joke from the bartender, and you find yourself chuckling too, oblivious to the piercing look your wife is drilling into your back.

Meanwhile, Agnes sees her opening and swoops in, linking her arm through Wanda's with a bit more force than necessary.

“Of course, you trust her, dear,” she murmurs right by Wanda's ear. “But do you trust her?” She points subtly with her chin towards Geraldine, her lips pursed. “You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…”

Wanda's shoulders tense, her entire frame stiffening. As you return with the drinks, Agnes steps away, leaving Wanda visibly shaken, like she’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Everything okay?” you ask, handing her a drink. You've noticed before how Wanda's demeanor changes around Agnes; she’s clearly a source of stress for her. It’s going to be a difficult conversation, but it might be time to tell Wanda what you really think about the neighbor.

Wanda takes the water you offer, her fingers trembling slightly as she does. For a moment, she appears distant, disengaged, as if her mind is elsewhere. Then, with a sudden shift, she flashes you one of those smiles that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I'm fine,” she declares, a little too brightly. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she asks, “Is Geraldine here with someone?”

You stop short, realizing you really don't know much about Geraldine beyond work. “I didn’t see her with anyone,” you say.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. Her next suggestion catches you by surprise.

“Maybe you should invite her over to our table.”

Did you hear that correctly? Had Wanda just done a complete 180 regarding your assistant and was now interested in getting to know her? You shoot a suspicious glance at Agnes. Had she said something to Wanda to change her mind?

“Are you sure?” you ask, puzzled by her abrupt change of heart.

“I am,” Wanda affirms. “It might be nice to make a new friend.”

–

Back at the response camp, Darcy and Jimmy are huddled around the small, grainy television, waiting for the moment Wanda’s in her kitchen so they can send a message through her radio device. However, the usual domestic scenes are conspicuously absent, replaced by static and sporadic cuts to the ongoing Harvest Festival.

“Come on, come on,” Darcy mutters under her breath, shoving her glasses back up her nose. They've been slipping a lot lately, probably because she's been hunching over her work more than usual these past few days.

“It's this festival,” Jimmy says, squinting at the screen. “I think the whole town's out there tonight. I don’t think we’re going to get the chance.”

Their attempts to contact anyone inside the Hex are dwindling, and Hayward's interest leans more towards studying the energy barrier encasing the town rather than resolving the anomaly itself. His latest directive to launch another drone into the barrier feels like a brute force attempt to crack the problem. Jimmy thinks it’s a waste of time—and resources.

“Yeah, and you know what’s worse?” Darcy grumbles. “I have a bad feeling about Agnes. Every time she's around, things just seem to... escalate.”

As they watch, the screen cuts to a shot of Agnes at the festival, linking arms with Wanda, whispering something that makes Wanda’s expression tighten. “See, what did I tell you?” Darcy exclaims, pointing at the screen. “Who’s this Agnes again in real life?” she asks.

Jimmy swivels in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the expansive pinboard filled with photos of Westview residents. Agnes’s face is not among them.

“No idea,” he says flatly. He had already run a search in the database, but it came back empty.

“So, we've identified Y/N, Monica, and Agnes as outsiders in Westview,” Darcy explains, tallying them off on her fingers.

“That’s correct,” Jimmy confirms.

“And then there’s Wanda’s sons. But again… we haven’t seen any other children in the show besides the twins.”

Jimmy thinks about it for a while. It had never really occurred to him before. “Maybe they’re bound to show up at some point?”

“Smells fishy to me,” Darcy huffs. Her thoughts circle back to Agnes. “How do you think Agnes ended up here?” she asks, their list of unanswered questions growing daily.

Jimmy shrugs. “She could’ve just been visiting.”

Darcy considers it. It's a possibility, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right—too simple, too convenient for someone as vibrant and prickly as the character Agnes portrays.

–

It's as if Wanda's animosity toward Geraldine just magically went away.

They’ve been chatting for almost an hour. Initially, Wanda made sure to include you in the conversation, but as time passed, she and Geraldine started connecting over topics that didn’t involve you as much. Feeling somewhat left out but also at ease that the problem between your wife and your secretary has apparently resolved itself, you decide to check out the festival booths.

This is where Agnes finds the perfect opportunity to get you alone. She starts her approach—to your surprise and discomfort—by acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” she says with a knowing smile. “Maybe we can change that tonight?”

You eye her with suspicion, easily seeing through her blatant attempts to flirt her way into your good graces.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” you ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

Agnes simply laughs off the cool reception you’ve given her. If anything, she revels in it.

“By getting to know each other, obviously,” she says.

“Right.”

She takes your elbow, and you swear she can feel you recoil at her closeness, yet she doesn’t seem to care. She urges you forward, dictating the pace. Her grip is unexpectedly firm, as if to say you have no choice but to listen—like leaving isn't an option.

With you literally in her grasp, Agnes sets her plans into motion. “So, how did you and Wanda meet?” she asks.

You deliver the narrative precisely as it plays out in your memory, exactly as Wanda implanted it in your mind. “We grew up next to each other. Best friends since we were kids.”

“How cute,” she says, in that smooth, supercilious tone that usually makes your skin crawl. But this time, with the memories of Wanda filling your head, you hardly notice.

“Yeah, I remember when I first saw her,” you continue, gazing into the distance as if the scene you speak of is right there before your eyes. “It was almost Halloween, and my mom had baked a pumpkin pie to welcome them to the neighborhood. She sent me to deliver it. Wanda answered the door.”

“Love at first sight?”

“More like the opposite,” you say, throwing Agnes a good-natured smile, something you’ve never done before. “She couldn’t stand me, and I felt the same way.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Agnes drawls before accompanying it with a short chuckle. “Who knows? Maybe there’s hope for us yet. You might end up not hating me so much after all.”

“Maybe…” you say, the smile reaching your eyes this time.

“Good, good,” Agnes says. “I can’t think of anything more romantic than growing up with the person you’ll be with for the rest of your life. Almost like it’s… sketched out, no?”

You nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this, but you appreciate the sentiment. You consider yourself lucky to have known Wanda most of your life.

“So, you've lived in Westview your whole life?” Agnes asks.

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation.

“And you've only ever been to Westview?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, ready to list off places you've been, but suddenly, you can't name any. The cities and trips that should come easily to your tongue just... don't materialize.

Not a single one.

Agnes watches you struggle with a blank expression. A second later, she begins throwing out suggestions, as if trying to help.

“Canada?"

You shake your head.

“California?”

Another shake.

“New York?”

No. This time, your eyes sting with the frustration of trying to pull something from the haze, realizing there’s nothing there.

Have you really never been anywhere but Westview?

“Eastview, maybe?” she offers with a bit of sarcasm as she names the town next door.

“I—”

“How strange,” Agnes muses, driving home the final nail in the coffin of your crumbling peace.

You jerk your arm away from her grip and take a few instinctive steps back. “I need to pick up the twins,” you blurt out, seizing the first excuse that comes to mind. “We should be heading out soon.”

Without waiting for her reply, you start walking away, driven by a sudden, intense need to be with your boys, with Wanda. To hold them close, to find some stability. Because right now, you’re petrified by a fear you cannot name.

“I heard Australia’s amazing this time of year!” Agnes calls after you.

The idea of not having been anywhere but Westview—it’s possible, right? Some people spend their entire lives in one place. But if this feeling—the one that's been gnawing at you lately—is real, if the world outside of Westview is truly non-existent, then what does that say about your life here?

What does it say about you?

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #oneshots #fic request #wandavision #monica rambeau #darcy lewis #jimmy woo #All Of Your Pieces #AOYP

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bonefall · 1 day ago

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ShadowClan has three random kittens that are literally just an invention of Su Susann that the family tree canonized. Quietkit, Rubblekit, and Turetlekit as the children of Ashheart and Cinderfur. I know you already included them to your old family tree as dead kits, but I've always liked their names too much to just let them be family tree randos. They offer some nice presence for tpb/to as they're probably around the Frostfour's age

These ones won't even be Glitch Warriors, I consider them "Kit Saves" in the sense that they do appear in the book but died young! Though they did get names from Su Susann, they are textually referenced in the opening of TPB: Rising Storm.

An owl swoops and attacks Nightstar's den, and we get this;

The "silver queen" here is said to be Ashheart. There's no one else it could be, anyway-- ShadowClan only has one silver molly during TPB, unless Yellowfang's mentor Deerleap is out here refusing to die, or one of the silver toms is doing a Rowanclaw. The father is said to be Cinderfur, but it could really be anyone.

(there's also this bizarre thing where there's like, 2 or 3 unnamed silver tabby warriors who keep appearing in background scenes. Are Wolfstep, Flintfang, and Boulder just painting stripes on themselves sometimes? Is Archeye forgetting he's an elder?)

So, their lives were short, but these three kits were absolutely canon. Since future material would definitely pull their names from the website, I'm comfortable saying Quiet, Turtle, and Rubble are as good as real.

I also happen to quite like their names, ngl, I've got a few fun little plans for them in BB;

Their warrior names are Rubbleflower, Turtlebelly, and Quietnose.

Blackstar's "naming tendency" is that he likes to give somewhat rude names. It's a very ShadowClan sort of thing to do.

Rubbleflower means "Flower struggling to grow out of a mess," Turtlebelly means "Always hungry," and Quietnose means "don't sneeze."

In terms of BB familial changes, I want to make Cinderfur NOT be Stumpytail's brother, and instead make him Ashheart's littermate.

My thought is that they were born to Cinderfur under Queen's Rights, but when he died in Runningnose's Plague, Ashheart adopted them and Stumptail stepped in to help.

(Stumptail was also targeted by Runningnose's plan, as one of Deerfoot's Rebels. He got sick but survived, eventually helping HalfClan cats escape TigerClan.)

I haven't entirely figured out Rubble's and Quiet's personalities yet, but Turtlebelly is going to become the Head of Kitchen Patrol shortly into Po3.

She's getting a secondary apprenticeship under Hammerclaw (im making her real), or Hammer's kid Wishbone, depending on how the timeline shakes out.

I'm not sure how long her tenure is going to last, though. She's going to get through Blackstar's lapse in faith, the Battle of the Truth Eclipse, and possibly Yellowcough, but Darktail and The Kin might do her in. They'll be doing a general purge of high-ranking ShadowClan cats, such as the old Educator, Smokefall.

But she CAN cook, so they might end up keeping her around.

In any case, Turtlebelly is going to be replaced as Kitchen Head by BB!ASC. Either violently, or by retiring.

Rubble and Quiet will probably be the ones to have kittens, in her family. She doesn't dislike kids or anything, she's just not enthusiastic about them. Prefers to be the cool aunt.

Speaking of-- Rubbleflower is the only boy. Quiet and Turtle are mollies.

Open to input on Quiet and Rubble in particular. I like how Rubblekit's wiki sprite is weirdly green, I'm trying to find some kind of fun way to work that into his personality somehow. Maybe he's one of the big brains behind Blackstar's Bog Project.

Look at this green ass cat

#BB!Quietkit #BB!Rubblekit #BB!Turtlekit #Rubbleflower #Turtlebelly #Quietnose #I had an older name for Quiet but I thought of this one and it's infinitely more fitting for what kinda namer BB!Blackstar is lmaoo #Better Bones AU

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brutalfantasytarot · 3 hours ago

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Pick A Card Tarot Reading: Random Messages for You ✨💞

study the images. which one are you drawn to most?

[left to right]

etsy.com/shop/brutalfantasy - for personal readings 💛

PILE ONE: wheel of fortune, nine of cups

your life is very karmic. you've had a lot of karmic debt to pay in this life - things stolen from you, challenges when it comes to money whether it's never having enough or somehow you get money and then can't handle it well, friends who backstab you, being the black sheep of your family, bizarre accidents, night terrors + sleep paralysis. but it won't be like this forever. all you have to do is focus on loving more + being incredibly honest with yourself and others. holding anger in your heart will only throw you even more off balance. life is imperfect + that's something you need to learn. you should get a cat or a bird. or simply spend time with birds. feed them. watch them. you should learn another language and travel to a different country. maybe even consider living abroad for a while. read more philosophical books. spend more time in churches even if you don't believe in god in the traditional sense. challenge yourself to just experience it. to look around at the people. the art on the walls. the feelings it brings it up. it may awaken something in you that you've been looking for without even knowing 💘

PILE TWO: seven of swords, ace of pentacles

there's trickery in your life and you know it. you just keep ignoring it. gaslighting yourself that it's not there because you don't want to believe it. well, believe it. because your intuition is correct. and the mask keeps slipping from the people and business partners. they are showing you. stop putting the mask back on them and set it flames instead. you're getting married soon. this person is someone entirely new. you need to stop trying to go to the past. the relationships with people in your past didn't work out and they're never going to. new beginnings are here for you. begging for you to choose them. and your future spouse is part of the new tribe coming your way if you finally let go of the false hope. i know it sucks. but those people aren't for you anymore. it's time to move on. you're being called to be more martian. be more selfish with your heart and your time. stand up for yourself more. face adversity head on instead of crumbling. laugh in defeats face. you gotta be more courageous (i know it's scary but you're gonna feel so empowered! i know that's a foreign feeling to you) for some of you, you really want to be an entrepreneur but you're scared. you should go for it. be bold. be different. follow your unique path! 🤍

#pick a card #pac reading #random messages for you #wheel of forutne #karmic life #karmic cycles #pac tarot reading #pick a picture #pick a card tarot reading #high priestess #energy #messages for you #<3 #love yall

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creaturefeaster · 6 months ago

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sorry if this is a weird/confusing question, but if Colorquest was real or at the very least just mimes, would they still look cartoonish irl? like next to a realistic person theyre super rounded. like something out of roger rabbits. or would they be somewhat realistic too

This isn't confusing at all. Honestly, it's something I feel like I struggle to convey to people quite often, so the fact that you ask really excites me... er, as long as I'm interpreting the question correctly, of course. Which, it feels like I am.

Yes, the mimes would feel very artificial. They are like what you would expect a 3D stick figure to look like in real life-- with the added (typically) cylinder/tube-like torso, of course. Smooth surfaces with no imperfections, no pores or divets. Round, cartoonishly proportionate living mannequins, with the surface area of their bodies scattering light in such a way that it's hard to get a read on their depth as if they are cell-shaded; They are almost walking cartoons, but with respect to three dimensional laws. Less decided upon, I often consider they'd have a start black outline around their silhouette, like the effect you find in Borderlands games for instance.

So basically yeah they'd look about how they do as they are drawn as they would in real life. The living would look like actual organic people like you and me.

#to the living they know they look really really bizarre #which is why when they see the first mimes that host they don't raise nearly as much of an eyebrow as youd expect #because at least they are fleshy and normally proportioned. we can think about how they dress like a clown later guys #it's why i really took to the word puppet for them. used to just call them monster forms #but an old friend suggested puppets some years ago and it really clicked #because they feel like giant puppeteered toys in a way #they're just so ridiculous that they look fake #brambleramble #honestly even some of the mimes get a giggle at each other and their puppets #some of why uppsulka was giggling in the On The Road Again song was because chickenstab looked so ridiculous #she'd already come across chickens before she got a chance to see chickenstab. so it was silly

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fungi-maestro · 8 months ago

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Happy tdov to fat trans people. 🏳️‍⚧️ Biggest thing that helped me as a trans kid was seeing older fat trans people. There were a lot of really irritating "advice" posts going around early in my time on the internet with a lot of misinformation in them, but one that I constantly saw (in addition to people claiming you should wear your pants rediculously low or only wear button ups) were posts saying you had to lose weight to transition. Can confidently confirm that is completely untrue. 👍

#seal.txt #tdov #that 'sky and mike' image of the two old trans dudes hugging was one that I had saved to my phone as a trans teen #and i would look at it sometimes and just wonder how they had made it #idk its just nice knowing we live that long and its not a requirement to be skinnyin order to be respected and loved and get old #some of the old 'advice' posts i saw were really completely bizarre and a lot of them stick with me to this day in insecurities #this would have been 2016 ish tumblr so i know not that long ago but i would have been around 13 for reference #weird that i remember so many of the things i read back then. i could probably fill a post with things i was misinformed on due to Tumblr #specifically tumblrs run by people that i didnt really have the knowledge or awareness to understand probably didnt have my best interests #like 'trans rights ' blogs i would follow and not notice until much later were quite the opposite #this is the consequence of viewing social media before i knew all the secret codewords and my brain was much less developed than it is now

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designernishiki · 2 years ago

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I think I’ve said this before on here but. it really baffles and somewhat annoys me sometimes how people hear that a character is in their 40s-50s and immediately assume they should be weak or feeble or less attractive than they are. like. no. i think everyones just been brainwashed to think that attractiveness/health/worth is determined by how young someone is. why is it more understandable to view a teenager as more attractive and capable than a fit 40-50-something year old. kinda wack

#don’t get me wrong this isn’t to say that older characters shouldn’t show signs of aging #like obviously they should- though also keeping in mind here that people show aging vastly differently and throughdifferent lengths of time #ie; some people go grey in their 30s. some don’t go grey at all #and as for physical ability it just depends on a person’s routines and the life they’ve lead up to that point– a guy who’s been slumped over #a desk in a cubicle for 30 years isn’t gonna be as likely to maintain muscle as a lumberjack or a personal trainer #obviously I’m talking about ykz characters in this post and specifically kiryu/majima. mostly kiryu though really cause it’s more bizarre to #me to point him out as being Elderly and unrealistically fit and handsome for his age #like. becuase hes not even that old. he’s 54 currently and I see people saying stuff about him like this throughout the time he’s been in #his 40s to early 50s– like dude do you know that like. most of the famous actors you see in live action films are in their 40s-50s. this #isn’t the 1950s man. you can be 40 50 60 and look Not Elderly and have an active life. that’s the magic of modern medicine and technological #advancements. crazy I know #sorry ranting here I just always get so thrown off by this #admittedly I think it makes me feel weird when exaggerate their ages so much partly cause my own parents are smack in the middle #of kiryu/majima’s canon ages (1966) so I see like. literally every day what a person in their mid-50s is Like. and it’s not at all like the #weird feeble characature so many younger people in this fanbase have for them #I couldn’t view my mother- as she is right now (56)- as ‘elderly’ if I fuckin tried dude #and she’s not half as physically fit and active in her lifestyle as someone like fuckin kiryu or majima so. yeah #(she is still quite active but less in a Working Out sorta way and more in a gardening and yard work and goes to burning man sorta way)#(she’s a psychologist though so her job isn’t very physically active is my point- as opposed to someone who’s job is #physically active. you get it)#anyway sorry I need to stop talking vsncjdnd #rambling #yakuza #rgg

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baycitystygian · 2 months ago

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the weird thing about living with a sibling you didn’t grow up with as adults is that you will literally act like siblings regardless and because you were raised completely different you will each think the other is the weirdest fucker on the planet. not sure how common this experience is but I could write a novel about all the weird ass shit my sister does. like refrigerating cosmic brownies and refusing to use tissues and instead blowing (literally) through toilet paper at a frantic pace. she literally keeps a roll on her desk and bedside table. tell me that isn’t serial killer level shit right there. I keep a box of tissues in the bathroom at all times and I constantly remind her that she’s free to use them but she seems to be under the impression that her nose produces so much snot that she’ll go through them way too fast. girl you have a deviated septum you don’t have an open geyser on your face!!!! it’s not the boogers making you unable to breathe it is your own damn nose!!!!!

#this woman carries around emotional support bottles of sinex #guarantee she has plenty of beef with me too #but the difference is that I KNOW I’m weird and I’m just kinda like Yeah What About It #whereas she thinks she’s normal and she thinks she knows everything about everything #she really is our dad’s twin in that regard. and boy howdy am I a carbon copy of my mother #sorry I swear I love my sister it’s just so bizarre #I’m so looking forward to moving in with my partner next year #I am CERTAIN we’ll be so much better living together than my sister and I are

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ozzgin · 4 months ago

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hear me out okayy imagine house full of obsessed monster x clueless human reader

I hear you alright. 👀 Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, stalking

You had been selected for an exchange program organized by the monster realm: one human to live with monsters, and one monster to walk among humans. They called it a cultural exchange.

Of course, you only found out about it after being kidnapped from your apartment. You thought you'd been taken by some mad serial killer and begged for mercy, until they finally dropped you before a regular looking office desk.

"Why the hell is the human so pale? What did you do?"

The monster lackeys fidgeted and mumbled some barely audible excuse. A slime creature poured you some coffee, and you gawked in confusion. The horned beast at the other side of the table seemed to realize his mistake.

"...They didn't tell you anything, did they?"

You shook your head in denial. To their defense, they'd never dealt with a human before. They must've gotten too flustered in the process, forgetting to speak. Or something along that line. You waved your hand, accepting their explanation, then probed for more details.

The whole ordeal is really mostly meant to satisfy their own curiosity towards humans, but they obviously couldn't express it so crassly to you. It's an exchange, you see. You, too, get to learn about monster customs, from the comfort of a shared home.

Thus, for the indefinite future, you'll be living with several creatures as roommates. You have been provided with your own room, naturally, in order to ensure your privacy.

Then again, how much privacy can one possibly get when surrounded by horny, deliriously infatuated creatures? Your underwear occasionally goes missing. You swear you feel watched every time you shower. And even more bizarre, you sometimes wake up to find a sticky film covering your pillow.

It must be anxiety. It was such a sudden change, after all. That's what the monstrous mates tell you in a sweet, caring voice. You appreciate their involvement, completely oblivious to the perversions taking place behind your back. Even the organizer couldn't foresee the unhinged thirst these beasts have for you. He didn't intend to ship you off as a wet dream to a pack of monsters.

"Is this alright, you think?" you ask, doing a little spin in the living room in order to show the chosen outfit from different angles.

The monsters shift slightly in their seats. If they were to be entirely transparent, you'd look much better stuffed with their appendages, pressed between them, coated in their fluids.

"Looks great", one of them manages to mumble, somewhat feverish. He let his mind wander too much.

"By the way, what were you doing last night? I could hear you saying my name repeatedly from your room."

The creature visibly tenses up.

"I was...I was practicing. It's a little hard to pronounce your name, you know? Being human and all..."

"Why didn't you just say so? I can help you with it. We'll practice until you finish properly", you declare with an innocent smile.

God. Keeping their hands off is becoming harder by the day.

[More Monsters]

#monster roommates #yandere monster #yandere x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker #monster smut

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katsu28 · 3 months ago

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rain, rain, (don't) go away

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you put your trust in a handsome stranger in the midst of a bit of bizarre wet weather. what could go wrong? (4.6k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: not quite the summer lando series i've been working on but the idea for this came to me in a dream a while ago lmao

It doesn’t often rain in Monaco. Especially not during the summer.

So when you feel a drop splash against your forehead, then another, you’re wildly unprepared. You squint up at the rapidly darkening sky like it's personally wronged you, and you’re met with another raindrop, this time in your eye.

Part of you wonders if you could try and make it home before it starts to pour. The other part knows it would be an impossible feat given your lack of a car and how far you’d have to run in such a short amount of time. Even as you ponder the thought, the occasional drops turn into a heavy drizzle.

You barely make it under the nearest awning before it really starts to come down. All around you are people scrambling to get out of the rain and somewhere dry, caught off guard by the unexpected downpour like you are.

“Crazy rain, huh?” You startle at the sound of a voice from next to you, gaze snapping to your left to see a man huddled under the same awning, most likely having come up with the same idea you did. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes, holding his hands up in surrender. “I take it you weren’t expecting rain when you left the house today either?”

You scoff, chuckling. “Was anybody?”

You tear your eyes away from the sky to look at him once more, and to say you’re pleasantly surprised is an understatement.

Your awning buddy is awfully attractive, and looks to be around your age too. A form-fitting black sweater stretches across broad shoulders, paired with baggy blue jeans that might not have worked for everyone, but definitely suits him well. He’s smiling at you too, a lopsided grin that has you intrigued by him. “The one time I didn't check my weather app before I headed out.”

“You actually check the weather app?” He chuckles, tilting his head.

“You don’t?”

“Can’t say that I do. Usually I just trust the vibes when I look out the window. Didn’t really work out today, though.” He holds his palm out from under the makeshift shelter, letting the rain pool in his hand before dumping it on the ground, flicking his fingers to rid them of the excess drops with a scrunched nose. “Is this your first time in Monaco?”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I live here. You?” He bobs his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s never rained like this though, especially this time of year.”

“If it’s any consolation, I reckon it’ll stop soon. It’s usually pretty quick—”

A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky right at that moment, followed by a clap of thunder not five seconds later. If it continues on like this, you might be stuck here forever.

“Huh! Maybe not.” The man sounds amused, aiming a sympathetic smile at you. You can’t help but chuckle, and you notice it makes him perk up a bit, looking pleased with himself. “Hope you don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Honestly? I don’t. But I’d rather not be standing under this awning til the storm lets up. Could be ages, by the looks of it.”

A stream rushes its way down the street, carrying a sad swirl of leaves down the storm drain at the corner along with it. It seems everyone else has come to their senses and found somewhere warm and dry to wait out the sudden storm because when you look around, the two of you are the only ones still outside.

As if the man can sense what you’re thinking, he speaks. He’s smiling hopefully at you, head tilted invitingly. “There’s a cafe down the block that was open before it started to rain. Care to join me?”

Normally, you’d be wary about a handsome stranger inviting you to an unknown location. This seems like one of those situations you’ve been warned about, but right now you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s about time you put yourself out there, take a chance for once. You’re pretty sure he won’t try to kidnap you.

“I’d love to.” You reply. You peer out at the dreary grey sky again, lips twisting into a grimace. “Is it just me or does it seem to be raining harder?”

“I say we make a break for it. Run like hell on three.” He says firmly. You nod and he does the same, holding out his hand. You slip your fingers through his without a second thought. “One, two, three—go, go, go!”

You both take off in a wild sprint down the sidewalk, splashing through puddles on your way. He giggles the whole time, peals of laughter bouncing off the cobbled street that sound gleeful. You’re laughing too, because who would’ve ever thought you’d be running through the rain hand in hand with a guy you’ve only just met?

He tugs you along, leading the way to your destination confidently. Well, as confident as one can while being half-blinded by a torrential downpour.

You nearly slip as you make a poor attempt at a sudden stop when he finally slows, and you probably would’ve ended up flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by your forearms, steadying you with an infectious grin that you can’t help but return.

The bell above the door rings when the two of you stumble inside, soaked to the bone even in the very short time it took to get down the road. But you know what they say, when it rains, it pours.

He shakes the rainwater from his hair not unlike a dog would shake out its fur, and in the process splatters you with the droplets. Normally you wouldn’t be too happy about it, but you’re already drenched and he’s very cute, so you don’t mind.

The place is pretty much empty when you look around, save for a handful of other patrons doing their own things. It’s cute though—cozy and warm, the smell of coffee beans and something sweet floating through the air. You never noticed it before, but it’s exactly the kind of cafe that you love.

The man seems to notice that you’re still holding hands, because his cheeks turn pink and he drops it, smiling rather bashfully.

“Sorry. I’m Lando, by the way.” He introduces himself softly, rubbing the back of his neck. You tell him your name and he repeats it, testing it out on his tongue. You’re not ashamed to admit you like the way it sounds when he’s the one saying it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“I’m gonna go order something so they don’t think we’re loitering. Preferably something hot, because I’ve got water in places water definitely shouldn’t be.” He shudders, pulling his soggy sweater away from his torso as proof. “Do you want anything?”

You ponder for a moment before responding. “A latte sounds amazing right now. I’ll pay you back, of course.”

Lando shakes his head, backpedaling towards the counter. “My treat. You just sit there and look pretty.” You roll your eyes playfully at him, but smile nonetheless. “Oh look, you’re doing great already!”

That makes your cheeks grow hot. You’ve just met Lando and he’s flirting with you, and you don't mind at all. In fact, you have half a mind to flirt back.

He finds you at a table soon after, balancing two cups and a concerningly large paper bag. You pop to your feet, carefully grabbing the bag to ease the load, and peer into it. There’s at least five different pastries inside, all of them looking absolutely mouthwatering.

“I hope you’re hungry. Got convinced to buy a few things by the lovely old lady at the counter.” Lando says sheepishly, sliding into the seat opposite you. “Very persuasive, she is.”

You shrug. “I could eat.”

You’re not sure how long you sit there, chatting with each other like you're the only two in the world. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him too. He’s funny and quick-witted and he talks very animatedly with his hands, you notice. You find it cute.

Lando tells you about himself, asks about you and your life story, and you find yourself settling in nicely with his friendly nature. This isn’t a date by any means, but he makes it feel like one by the way he truly pays attention to you and what you're saying, nodding along closely with rapt attention. As far as listeners go, he's a fantastic one.

You’ve also learned a lot about him. He was born and raised in the UK, but moved here a few years ago for work. What exactly did for work, he wasn’t too forthcoming with, but you don’t pay it any mind. You’ve just met, after all. You’re not expecting him to tell you his whole life story.

But it also doesn’t feel like you’ve just met. You aren’t sure why, but Lando has this way of making you feel like you’ve known each other for ages, of making you feel comfortable and at ease with every word out of his mouth.

Your clothes and hair have just started to dry out a bit, and you’re having a great time. Such a nice time, you don’t even notice the girl approaching your table. Lando sees her before you do, and he smiles politely.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but are you Lando Norris?” She asks hopefully. She looks young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Her eyes flick to you, and you can tell she’s nervous, so you smile back. You’re confused to say the least, but you remember what you were like at her age. She reminds you a bit of yourself.

Lando nods. “I am, yeah. What’s your name?”

“Valeria. But everyone here just calls me Val. I’m the owner’s granddaughter, so I work here all the time.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Val.”

She looks positively starstruck now, hands trembling as she holds up her phone. “Would you mind if I got a photo with you? You can totally say no if I’m interrupting something, I—”

“You’re alright, love, don’t worry.” Lando stands, moving into selfie position next to her. The poor girl’s arm shakes so much you’re positive the photo won’t turn out clear at all, so you slide out of your seat too.

“Here, let me.” You take the phone gently, motioning the two of them to scoot closer to get them in frame with each other.

Val looks a combination of relieved and grateful, while Lando gives off nothing but a cool, albeit reserved, confidence. The same kind of confidence a celebrity might have when approached by a fan of theirs. But certainly Lando couldn’t be famous…right?

You shake away the idea, snapping a handful of photos before passing it back to her, figuring there can never be too many to choose from. She beams bright, hugging him quickly, then to your surprise, gives you a hug as well.

“Thank you so much! I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy your food!” With that, she hurries away with a bounce in her step, disappearing into the kitchen.

You turn to Lando with arched brows. “That was interesting.”

“So interesting.” He echoes, but his tone makes it sound like he doesn’t quite agree.

“What are you, famous or something?” You mean it as a light jest, but Lando looks guilty for some reason. He beckons for you to take your seat again, sliding back into his own before offering you a sheepish smile.

“Um, there might be something I haven’t told you yet.”

“Shit, are you actually famous?”

“...Yeah, kinda.” You arch a curious brow, and he sighs, but not in exasperation. “I’m a Formula One racing driver. For McLaren.”

Formula One…racing…it all sounds slightly familiar, but you can’t quite place it. Then it dawns on you.

Lando isn’t just a local celebrity—he’s literally world famous.

You’ve heard your friends talk about the races before, a few of your relatives who keep up with the sport, but you’d never paid it any mind. It just wasn’t something you could see yourself being interested in. That really famous race that takes place here in the streets every year that makes traffic an absolute fucking nightmare the whole week, Lando drives in that race, and countless others around the world, if you recall your limited knowledge correctly.

He’s…cool. And he’s sitting right here with you in a tiny cafe, and you had no idea who he was.

“Oh my god, you must think I live under a rock or something! This is so embarrassing, I—”

“No, no! I’m not—I don’t go around expecting everyone to know who I am, I swear. It’s just that most people usually do recognize me, and it saves me the whole ‘having to tell them I’m famous’ thing, which always just makes things really awkward, and…yeah.”

“Things don’t have to be awkward.”

“No?”

“No. We don’t even have to talk about it.”

“We don’t?” He sounds a tad wary, but when you nod, the tension in his posture melts away. Relief floods his features at once. “Thank you. It’s actually quite nice to meet someone who has no idea what I do. Makes me feel normal for once.”

“Glad my lack of sports knowledge makes you feel like a regular guy,” You joke, nudging his foot with yours under the table. He gives you a light kick in return, infectious smile back in full bloom once again. You quite like it when he smiles.

You’ve just moved on to a new topic that has nothing to do with Lando’s job when his phone buzzes, making him jolt in surprise. He digs it out of his pocket, and when he sees the name flash across the screen, his eyes go wide.

“Sorry, hang on. I’ve gotta get this.” He says, hitting the answer button. It’s a quick phone call, and you try your best not to eavesdrop, but whoever is on the other line has Lando worked up when he hangs up.

“Everything okay?” You ask lightly. Lando bobs his head quickly.

“Yeah, it’s—I, uh, I’ve gotta go. I forgot about a work event, apparently. That was my press officer, wondering where the hell I am and how fast I can get there.” He sounds disappointed, smiling almost sadly. “So much for feeling normal.”

You try your best not to let your face fall when you nod. “I should get going too. Get home before the next freak summer rainstorm.”

It’s nice when you step outside. You tilt your face up towards the sky, feeling the sun warm your face. This is the Monaco you know and love. Though if it hadn’t rained, you would’ve never met Lando.

He turns to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the nice afternoon. I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe you will.”

“I certainly hope so.” He says softly. You shift slightly on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling awkward. You’re not sure how to leave things with him, and it looks like he feels the same by the way he mirrors your actions. “Um, I really should leave, so…goodbye, I guess?” The look on his face tells you that leaving is the last thing he wants to do, but he has to.

“Bye, Lando.”

“Bye.” He echoes, one more time before turning away from you to head down the street.

You can only bring yourself to wait a few seconds before you call his name again. He turns around instantly despite his hurry, meeting your gaze. You want to say something to him that’ll make him remember you, because chances are you’ll never cross paths again. If you were brave enough, maybe you'd even ask him for his number. But you’re not, so you don’t. Instead, you just smile at him.

“Thanks for the latte.”

If he’s disappointed, he hides it well. He smiles back at you, warm and bright like the sun beginning to peek out from behind the clouds. “Of course.”

You watch him walk away, fighting that pesky little feeling in your gut telling you that you’re making a mistake by letting him go. It’ll go away soon, and you’ll go on with your life like you’re meant to.

-------

You find yourself going back to the same cafe often, whenever you're out and want a little treat before you go home. The pastries are always still as delicious as the first time you had them, and you’ve become well acquainted with the staff as the time goes on.

Oh, and that feeling you had when you let Lando leave without a word?

It never went away. It’s still here, worming its way into your thoughts every chance it can get.

You’re a little embarrassed to admit that every time you walk into the cafe, you hope you’ll see Lando. It’s wishful thinking more than anything, hoping he’ll be there when you go. He’s probably busy doing his thing anywhere but here, busy racing around in the world to the tune of thousands of screaming fans. You’re not sure if he even remembers you, or the afternoon you’d spent together.

Why would he? In the world of Lando Norris, world famous Formula One driver, you’re probably just a speck of dirt in his rearview mirror.

The thought gets pushed to the back of your mind as you step up to the counter to order. Val beams at you from behind the register.

“Hey, Val,” You greet the young girl warmly, returning her smile. You’ve become quite fond of her and her youthful energy, and she always brightens your day. “How’s business going?”

“Oh you know, same old.” Val waves an absentminded hand in the air as she keys in your usual order with the other. Her smile turns mischievous at the same time, like she knows something you don’t, and you narrow your eyes at her, already knowing what she's going to ask. “Have you heard from Lando?”

“No, I haven’t. How’s summer school going?”

She makes a funky face at you, rolling her eyes. “Boring. Way to change the subject though.” Before she can press any more about Lando, someone calls her name from the kitchen. “Ugh, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfy, wait for your order, you know the drill!”

You chuckle to yourself, heading straight for your usual table by the window to wait for your name to be called.

You like to sit while you enjoy your food and drink, watching the people and cars go by outside. The streets of Monaco are always busy and bustling, but being in here feels like a pocket of peace.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your brow crinkles at the sudden voice, because you know for a fact there are at least four or five other empty tables available other than the one you’re currently sitting at, but this person chose to to ask you.

Pocket of peace…disrupted.

You let out a short sigh through your nose, turning your head from the window to politely tell them to find another seat, preferably at a table that isn’t yours, and that’s when you see him.

Lando is grinning at you when you look over, lopsided and endearing just like the first time you met him.

“Oh fuck!” You can’t help the expletive that falls from your mouth at the sight of him, even though there’s a thousand other things you’d told yourself you’d say to Lando if you ever saw him again. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he’s rocking on the balls of his feet slightly like he’s nervous as he waits for you to do something other than curse at him. “Lando! I—you—hi.”

“Hi,” He echoes, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. All you can do is stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, you can sit.” You fumble over your words like you’re not used to speaking, feeling your cheeks flame embarrassingly hot. Lando just chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you. “Um, so how’ve you been?”

He rubs at the back of his neck, bobbing his head. “Good! Bit busy. We had a triple header the last three weeks, so it’s just nice to be home again.”

“Oh, I bet. I don’t think I’d be very good company if I couldn’t sleep in my own bed for three straight weeks.”

“That’s fair. Though to be honest, I’ve gotten scarily good at falling asleep anywhere. If it’s a flat surface, I can nap.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”

“Impressed would be mint. Otherwise I just sound like a dumbass.”

You laugh at that, and in this moment, you realize just how much you’ve missed Lando. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself to forget about him, to convince yourself that there was no point in pining after someone you’d only spent a few hours with, it all came back to this. You missed him because you like him.

“I need to tell you something.” He blurts suddenly, bracing his elbows on the table.

You nod, expression turning thoughtful. Whatever thoughts you’re having about liking Lando can wait. “Sure, go ahead.”

“This is gonna sound unbelievably weird and maybe even a little bit creepy, but I need to get it off my chest or else I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Lando looked nervous. The bouncing of his leg you can feel under the table and the way he plays with his fingers supports your theory.

You cock your head at him, reaching across the surface to steady his fidgeting with a hand over both of his. His gaze snaps down to your touching hands, and you can see him visibly gulp.

“What’s going on? Are you okay, is something wrong?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. Everything is…the opposite, really. Everything is right. Meeting you, finding my way back to you—here of all places. I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but this sure feels like something along those lines.”

“Lando, I—”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that afternoon. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He confesses. His fingers curl around yours gently, thumb stroking over the ridges of your knuckles. “If I’m being completely with myself, I think it’s because I didn’t want to get you out of my head. And I just got off the plane an hour ago, but instead of going home and passing out like I usually do, I came here, hoping that somehow, you’d be here too.”

“Can I say something now?” You ask lightly, stifling a giggle.

His cheeks flush an embarrassed pink, and he motions for you to go ahead. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I talk too much when I get nervous. I’m working on it, I—fuck, sorry again. You go. I’ll shut up.”

“I still think it’s cute.”

“Is that the only thing about me you still think is cute, or…?”

That gets another laugh out of you. You chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. “Not at all. I still think all of you is cute, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. We haven’t known each other long, but I really like you, Lando.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You don’t have time to second guess your newfound confidence before he’s leaning across the table, sliding a large hand over your jaw and pressing his lips against yours. Lando kisses you softly—gentle, like he’s worried you’ll pull away if he’s too forward with it.

You’re fully aware that you’re smiling like a madman against his lips, but in your defense, he is too. His eyes open slowly when you pull away, almost tentatively as if he’s not quite sure what just happened actually happened.

He leans back just enough to study you, letting his gaze flit around your face, taking in every detail he possibly can. All while he grins larger than Cheshire cat, like he’s a kid whose parents just told them they could get whatever they wanted at the candy shop, instead of kissing you for the first time.

“I was gonna be nice and bring you your order, but it looks like you’ve already got something sweet.” Val’s voice cuts through the moment, and when you look over at her, she looks over the moon.

“Lando, you remember Val, right?”

“Uh huh,” Lando hums, holding out his hand for a fist bump that she happily gives him. “Thanks again for the heads up.”

“Hold on, what? What heads up?”

The two of them share a look, like they’re debating whether or not to tell you their secret. Then Lando sighs, giving her a go ahead nod, and she squeals, setting your food down.

“Okay, so you know how you come in here all the time after work? Well me, being the keenly observant, brilliant young mind I am, noticed a pattern. You come on the same days, at the same time, and you never stray.” She explains excitedly, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. You aim a questioning glance over at Lando, who just gives another amused nod.

Val continues excitedly, “So I’m expecting you today, right? But then the door opens and guess who walks in? Lando! He asks me if you’ve ever come back here after that one day and I’m like oh my god, you have no idea! So I tell him to wait a half hour for you, and now you’re both here and my matchmaking skills can be put to rest.”

“Are you being serious right now? Really, I can’t tell.”

She tilts her head, popping a hand on her hip. For the same girl who’d been so nervous to meet Lando just weeks ago, she’s got a surprising amount of sass in his presence today. “Why would I not be serious? I’m basically a genius, and I expect to be invited to the wedding. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Alright, that’s enough, cheers, Val!” Lando blurts, shooting her a pointed look.

“Can I get paddock passes for making this whole thing happen? Preferably Monaco but I could probably make it to Monza too. Imola is a little far.”

Lando blinks at her for a few moments, probably seeing if she actually means it. When all she does is raise her eyebrows, he concedes. “Maybe. I’ll make some calls, see what I can do.”

“Fantastic. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone!”

You both watch as she all but skips happily off, then turn back to each other.

“She’s…definitely something,” You sigh, shaking your head. Secretly, you owe her everything.

“Eh, I dunno. Kid’s growing on me.” He reaches across the table, lacing his fingers through yours with a fond twinkle in those pretty eyes of his.

“How serious are you about those paddock passes?”

“I mean…she did help me out massively. I’d have missed you if it weren’t for her.” Lando shrugs, rubbing an absentminded thumb over yours. “I hope you know I would’ve come back until I found you again. Everyday, if I had to.”

“Me too.”

If you’d told your past self that a bizarre summer rainstorm in sunny Monaco would’ve led you to where you are right now, you wouldn’t have believed it. But now, as you sit here with Lando, smiling at each other like complete and total idiots, you’ve never been more grateful for a bit of unexpected rain.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot

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rowarn · 5 months ago

Text

bizarre thought.....shadow entity!ghost..... @sgtgarricks is responsible for this!!!

i already want to write another part to this LMAOOOOOOO

part : two

when you first moved into your new house, you knew it was old and had been vacant for a looooong time. it had a bizarre history of people living there and moving out months, even weeks later. most people declined offering a reason for their quick move but others would just vaguely supply that the 'energy was dark in that house', you weren't bothered.

it was a nice, big, house and for damn cheap too. you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

your first nights in the house, you understood what they meant. there was something off about the house for sure. at random times, you would feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if alerting you to danger. when you would turn around, there was nothing there. but it would leave you with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

it wasn't until a week into your new life that the first weird thing happened. it was like something from a stereotypical horror movie. you heard a strange sound and got out of bed to investigate. when you got to your kitchen, all the cabinets and drawers were open and your kitchen chairs were placed on top of your table -- which had also been moved across the kitchen.

you tried to take some deep breaths to calm yourself as you returned everything back to normal. you went over and over in your head for some kind of explanation for the event before finally landing on the fact that this house was fucking haunted.

strange events kept happening after that. lights would turn on, your kitchen cabinets would be open, sinks and showers would turn on, doors would slam from across the house. you were losing sleep over it. every single night you'd be woken up by some strange event and you were beginning to understand why the past tenants had moved out so fast.

this was a rotten way to live.

the final straw for you was the night the activity really seemed to ramp up. whatever spirit was haunting you wanted you out now. multiple doors slammed, jolting you from your sleep -- your heart racing from how hard you had been startled from your dreams. you got to your feet and turned on your lamp only to find it wasn't working.

next, you tried the overhead light. same thing.

fuck. it had caused the power to bust.

now you were really scared.

you grabbed your phone, using the flashlight to navigate your way out of the bedroom. the floorboards creaked beneath you, considerably louder without the hum of electricity.

you were halfway down the hall when you heard it. quiet at first, but definitely there. footsteps. mimicking your own, as if echoing after you took your own steps, making sure you knew it was there.

you spun around, shining the light upon nothing. you let out a heavy breath, noticing the way the flashlight shook from how hard you were trembling.

"a-alright, ghost," you called into the empty house, too scared to feel stupid that you were talking to nothing, "i-i'll admit i'm pretty scared right now. i-i know you probably want me out of your house. this is your house, i get it. bu-but i already sunk all my damn savings into moving in here s-so i can't leave!" you swallow, a loud gulping sound that would be funny if you weren't about to piss yourself, "s-so if we could just live together for a little while longer. i-i promise i'll get out the second i have the money!"

there was nothing but tense silence. you felt like an idiot the more seconds that passed. were you trying to make a deal with a fucking ghost? a spirit of someone who probably died in this house? what kind of shit had your life become?

you peered into the inky blackness of the hallway, blinking as you try to futilely see. it takes you a moment to realize you're not just staring into the darkness of your hallway. it's something else.

pure darkness. a dark entity taking form in the blackness of the night. you want to step back, primal fear coursing through you like you never felt before. whatever fear you were feeling was primordial in nature -- as if this entity was something you were born to fear.

the darkness began to swallow up the hallway, eating away at the light your flashlight had created. the air felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to take in oxygen.

you swear you could feel hands on you, grabbing you and pulling at you. the longer you stared into the darkness, the more you thought you could see things. eyes. hundreds of eyes. but when you blinked, the images vanished.

then, all at once, the entity was gone and your light was shining down the hallway again unimpeded. after another second, the sound of the electricity slamming back on filled the house and you collapsed to your knees.

whatever that was, it was dangerous. you knew that now.

but it didn't hurt you. perhaps it agreed to your terms and would leave you be now?

oh how wrong you were. sure, it wasn't nearly as scary as that night but now you saw it.

around every turn.

you could see the shadow take shape from the corner of your eye but when you looked, it would be gone. you would be brushing your teeth and when you looked in the mirror, it stood behind you, making your heart leap out of your chest. when you would turn, it wasn't there.

you were no longer woken up in the night, at least. but you weren't sure if you preferred the regular haunting stuff to seeing the ghost or not. you were on the fence about which was worse.

after another scare from the ghost, you jumped so hard that you almost fell over, "alright you -- ghost! will you quit scaring me like that!?" you found yourself shrieking.

to your abject horror, you heard laughter in return.

the shadow shit was fucking laughing at you. like it was enjoying this.

it wasn't evil laughter either. it sounded like pure enjoyment.

you suppose it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for a ghost to make sounds but it didn't make it any less horrifying.

you started talking to it more after that. once you heard its voice - sort of- it became easier. the fear also dissipated in time. sure it would jump scare you from time to time to get a laugh but other than that, it became like living with a really annoying roommate.

"will you get out of my mirror!" you snapped, mouth full of toothpaste with you facemask on. its disappearance was marked with its mirthful laughter.

you also noticed as the days and weeks passed, it stopped looking like a shapeless shadow and more like a person -- a big one at least. well over 7 feet tall. if you looked for long enough, you could almost make out what you think is a skull where the face would be on a human.

one night, you're laying in bed, comfortable. there's rain pelting outside on your window and distant thunder, too nice of weather to sleep away. so you just choose to relax and listen to it.

"ghost?" you find yourself calling into the darkness, "are you there?"

its silent but you feel the air grow heavy and you know that it's arrived. it seems to have...consciousness, you realized. it reacts to you and listens to you. there's one thing that's been plaguing you that you want to ask, though you're not sure if it will answer -- if it can answer.

"you're not really a ghost are you?" you ask.

you're greeted by silence for several, long seconds before you hear it. it's deep and masculine, a whisper of an echo following its voice when it speaks as if multiple things were speaking but only one voice was amplified, "no."

it's the answer you were expecting but that didn't mean you liked it. you swallow harshly around the lump of anxiety in your throat.

"are you going to hurt me?" you ask it, dreading the answer to this one. just because it's been toying with you doesn't mean it's not still dangerous.

"no," it responds again. you can hear footsteps, the entity walking closer and closer to your bed.

you let out a relieved breath at that. though, you're not sure if you should actually believe the dark entity that lives in your house. but at this point, you've really got no choice except to take it's word for it.

"what's your name?" you find yourself asking it.

"ghost," it responds quickly.

you laugh at that, "no, you're real name."

"ghost," it insist, "you gave me a name."

a lightbulb goes off over your head.

"is that why you're being so nice to me?" you ask, not sure if 'nice' is the appropriate word to use.

"i wanted a name," it answers, "you gave me one."

"a name in exchange for living in this house," you muse, deciding to roll over in bed, "alright then. goodnight, ghost."

"rest well," it responds before vanishing, freeing the room from that oppressive feeling.

you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep, briefly wondering where ghost even came from and what exactly it was.

this is unedited i wrote it in a fury of inspiration i hope u enjoyed it regardless of how WEIRD this was LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader

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astrow1zar6 · 1 month ago

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Astro Observations- 37

Scorpio moon are surprisingly really big people pleasers. They have an amazing ability sense what a person desires and tell them what they want to hear. This why they are such good manipulators.

Neptune in the 1st house people are CONSTANTLY getting projected on. If you have this placement you’re probably used to people telling you “we are so much alike!” And then think “I’m nothing like this person”. People see in you what they want to see and you unconsciously mirror others personality and mannerisms creating an illusion to others that you guys have a lot in common. Most people never learn the true you (people with this placement barely know their true self themselves!)

Capricorn moons are the definition of Jack of all trades. They are so handy to have around.

Cancer moons usually have very odd/bizarre childhoods

Venus in the 1st house people tend to be very lucky when it comes to finding a good partner. They attract others to them like bees to honey so they usually have a lot of options. Also money tends to flow to them pretty smoothly. They have such charming personalities that they are able to get higher paying jobs with very little effort (pretty privilege has a lot to do with it).

Gemini risings feel uncomfortable when things get too stable. You’ll always see them moving a lot or changing jobs constantly. Even their friend groups are always morphing.

Water and earth mars I notice create a more plump and curvy body in women and air and fire mars tend to have a more athletic and lean body type. (Scorpio mars tho however I notice tend to be more lean and athletic)

Mars in the 8th housers can be amazing athletes. They have such incredible willpower and persistence that they can really excel in sports.

Moon in Scorpio and Moon in Capricorn are the most common moon sign I see among celebrities. The least I see tend to be Taurus Moons and Cancer Moon. (Isn’t it funny they are opposite signs!!?)

Saturn square Venus in synastry is so obnoxious to have. You feel such a strong pull towards the other but it takes you guys so long to interact. Having this placement feels like you are meant to be in this persons life but God is putting every obstacle in the way so that you can’t really ever get to know eachother. And when you get a chance it’s almost uncomfortable and too formal (especially on the Saturn persons end) then you go back and think about this person all day wishing you could’ve said more☹️

Venus in the 6th house seems like such a bummer to have😩 I’ve seen this creates someone who tends to overwork themselves a lot. They tend to miss out on a lot of friends and good relationships because of work. This placement can cause a lot of social anxiety from what I’ve seen. On the bright side however they can make amazing bosses and develop close relationships within the work place. They are more likely to date a coworker than most. Big office siren energy.

Aquarius suns love saying/doing out of pocket things to make others uncomfortable lol. They get a kick from shocking others which is why people usually see them as eccentric.

Aqua moon women love wearing baggy boyish clothes. They feel more confident when they express themselves a little masculine I notice.

Taurus moons tend to make friends that looks similar to them. Whether that be physically or fashion or personality. And they tend to surround themselves with attractive people. (Venus influence)

A lot of pornstars have heavy Gemini placements

Mars in Aquarius I feel like Is the most rebellious Aquarius placement.

Moon in Pisces men can prefer having women friends over male friends. Even if they are straight. They feel more comfortable in feminine energy and are usually outcasted by other men.

Capricorn risings at one period in their lives had a really intense relationship with their mothers. They may have had a period where they didn’t talk to their mothers or they didn’t get a long well for some reason.

Saturn in the 1st house people have probably the worst self esteem issues I’ve seen in a placement. (Especially if they have Venus in the 1st house or Virgo placements).

I notice fire signs tend to be more into alternative fashion than most (goth, scene, emo, grunge, ect.). (Especially Aries)

Pisces Venus men never really get into relationships much. I see they’re always in these weird codependent situationships.

12th house stellium people are usually all into stuff like astrology, tarot, wiccan ect.

It’s very uncommon that I see Virgo moons who are spiritual or into things like astrology or religion. I notice they are usually atheists.

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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depresssant · 25 days ago

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Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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FIRST, TASTE [1/2]

ship: incubus!gojo x fem!virgin!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; handjob/m. recieving; coercion/dub-con?) word count: 9.9k (long one babes, y'all know i gosta worldbuild/have a lil plot, lololol) a/n: Y'all, I can't believe I actually wrote this, i just wanted to try my hand at KINKtober😭; anywho, the idea of summoning an incubus just to get experience hit different and I HAD to do it. Anyways, enjoy this sinful lil one-shot. 'Know No Evil' update coming soon, probably on my birthday (Oct. 9) if I stay on schedule 👀…Prt. 2: 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃, 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," you muttered, pacing frantically around your small dorm room. "How can you be this stupid?"

For the last half-hour, you'd been running back and forth like you were stuck in a sitcom montage, trying to prepare your space for your tutor session with Fushiguro Megumi.

And now, of course, he was almost here.

Usually, you weren't this disorganized.

The plan had been to clean and review notes way ahead of time, but somewhere between finishing the latest season of Sex Education on Netflix and getting lost in TikTok, the hours had slipped away.

Now, here you were shoving clothes under the bed and tossing old takeout containers into random drawers, hoping to make your room at least look like you had it together.

"Perfect, he'll show up and think I'm living in a trash heap," you grumbled, snatching up a pair of socks from under a pile of textbooks.

But there wasn't time to wallow; you needed to—

A knock echoed from the front door.

"Shit," you whispered, shoving random items under your bed as fast as you could. "I got it!" you called out, bolting towards the door, hoping to beat your roommate.

The last thing you needed was her making things awkward with whatever bizarre commentary she'd throw at the poor guy—

"Who's this?" Kugisaki Nobara's voice rang out from the hallway, her tone curious yet condescending.

You cursed under your breath, knowing what was coming. Great.

You made it down just in time to see Nobara standing by the door, hands on her hips as she sized up the person on the other side. The moment her eyes landed on Megumi, her lips twisted down in obvious distaste.

Megumi was standing on the other end of the door, wearing his usual bored expression, a dark hoodie thrown over his usual lazy attire of jeans and boots. His hair was messier than usual, sticking up in all directions like he hadn't even bothered with it.

"Ew... it's you," she said flatly, shooting him a withering look. "____, your teacher for dummies is here!" she called out, turning on her heel and walking away with an exaggerated flick of her hair.

You groaned under your breath, rubbing your temples in frustration. Why is she like this?

"Megumi! Hi," you said, trying not to sound too flustered as you opened the door wider for him. "Come on in."

"Hi," he muttered, stepping inside as if he were doing you a favor.

You flashed an awkward smile. "Sorry, about Nobara," you muttered, sending Megumi an apologetic look as you opened the door wider for him. "She's, uh... she's like that with everyone."

Megumi didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "I believe you," he replied dryly, stepping inside as if nothing had happened. He slipped off his shoes and tossed his backpack on the floor without so much as a second glance toward Nobara's retreating figure.

You sighed, closing the door behind him. "I swear, she's really not that bad once you get to know her."

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Sure."

You couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he just genuinely didn't care, but either way, you quickly changed the subject. "Let's get started," you said, leading him into your room, still feeling embarrassed by Nobara's less-than-friendly greeting.

Megumi didn't say much as he followed you, but he didn't have to. You'd known him long enough by now to recognize the tiny shifts in his expression. The raised eyebrow when he took in the state of the living room, the slight tilt of his head as he glanced at the bookshelves.

He was the type to quietly observe everything, and that somehow made you even more nervous.

You'd met Megumi in your first semester—by accident, really. He'd been the quiet guy who sat in the back of your chemistry class, always scribbling in his notebook but never talking to anyone.

When you got paired with him for a group project, you'd been terrified. The guy barely looked up when you introduced yourself, just grunted in response.

But over time, you found out he wasn't actually that bad. He had a sharp mind for chemistry and a dry, blunt sense of humor that caught you off guard.

And in exchange, you helped him navigate through the old math stuff that somehow came up again in your courses.

Now here you both were again—sophomore year, different majors, but stuck in the same required math class.

"Here we are," you said, gesturing to your bedroom door. You pushed it open and stepped aside to let him in first, already regretting the chaos you'd left in the room.

"Sorry about the mess," you muttered, nudging a stray bra under the bed with your foot as you walked in after him.

The faint scent of strawberries hung in the air, thanks to a candle you'd lit earlier in a desperate attempt to make the place feel less like a disaster zone.

Megumi barely glanced at the mess. "It's fine," he said, dropping his backpack onto your bed without a second thought.

You grabbed your notebook and the textbook, settling down at the small desk near the window. "Alright, let's get started."

"—and that's how you factor a quadratic expression," you finished, circling the final answer on the page with a satisfied hum.

Megumi leaned over, his eyes scanning the paper in that same quiet, intense way he always did. He was so focused it was almost intimidating.

You'd never quite gotten used to how he could make silence feel so heavy.

He nodded slightly, jotting down some notes in his notebook, but his eyes flicked back to you. You couldn't tell if he was impressed or just silently judging you.

"You're good at this stuff," he muttered, leaning back slightly.

You laughed a little, shrugging. "Heh. I guess. It's easier to explain than to actually do it myself sometimes."

"You're a better teacher than some of our professors," he added, which you weren't sure if that was praise or another dig at the fact that your school's faculty left a lot to be desired.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, noticing there were still about fifteen minutes left in your session. "We've still got a little time left. If you want, we can go over anything you didn't quite get—"

"Can I ask you something?" Megumi cut you off, his tone casual, but there was something behind it that made you pause.

"Uh, sure," you said, expecting a question about math or maybe something random about chemistry.

Instead, he asked, "Are you a virgin?"

The room fell silent. You stared at him, completely thrown off, and nearly choked on your own breath. "I—what?"

He tilted his head, like you hadn't heard him. "Are you a virgin?" he repeated, slower this time, as if asking for clarification.

Your face immediately went hot, and you sputtered, "W-Why the hell would you ask something like that?"

He leaned back slightly, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. "Just curious."

You crossed your arms defensively, feeling your heart race. "That's none of your business."

Megumi's gaze stayed on you, unbothered by your reaction. "Okay."

"Okay?" you repeated, narrowing your eyes. "What the hell does that even mean?"

His smirk widened a bit, and his voice dropped a little lower. "You mentioned Suguru earlier, right?"

Your stomach flipped at the mention of Geto Suguru, the subject of your daydreams; also known as the senior you shared an etymology class with your second semester last year.

He was... a lot.

Tall, handsome, intimidating, and way too charismatic for his own good; he had this effortless air about him that made you wonder why someone like him would even notice someone like you.

He was the kind of guy who made you nervous just by being in the room. But he was always hanging around Megumi, too, which only made things more confusing.

"Yeah, so?" you replied, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "What about him?"

Megumi leaned back on his hands, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "He'd probably be interested in your answer."

Your face went red. "What? Why would Suguru care if I'm—wait, did he... ask about me?"

Megumi's smirk turned into a full grin now, and he shrugged. "Maybe."

Your mind was racing. Why the hell would Suguru, of all people, ask anything about you? You were barely on his radar as far as you knew.

He was always surrounded by people—other seniors, girls who were way more confident and put together than you.

You fidgeted with your hands, trying to keep your voice steady. "Why... why would he care? Did he actually say something?"

Megumi chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'd have to ask him yourself."

You stared at him, completely at a loss for words, but before you could fire back, he was already packing up his stuff, slipping his notes into his backpack with a lazy sort of ease.

"Thanks for the session," he said, standing up and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "Let me know if you need help with chemistry."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you sitting on your bed, still trying to wrap your head around what the hell had just happened. What the hell did Geto want with you? And why did Megumi look so smug about it?

You flopped back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"What the hell..."

"Fuck my life..." you mumbled under your breath, dragging your feet as you made your way across campus, your body feeling heavier than usual.

It had been a long day—scratch that, a long week—and you were running on fumes after pulling an all-nighter.

You knew better, but The Sims 4 had you in a chokehold last night, and before you knew it, it was 4AM., and your empire of perfectly crafted Sims families was more put together than your real life, and now you were paying the price.

Your last class of the day had been a blur, and you almost skipped it entirely. But the guilt of missing two classes earlier in the week pushed you out of bed at the last possible minute.

Now, with your bag full of heavy textbooks and your brain fried from back-to-back lectures, all you wanted to do was collapse.

You squinted against the afternoon sun as you approached the large fountain in the middle of campus. The sound of rushing water was soothing, but it did little to ease the pounding headache forming behind your eyes.

You weren't even halfway there when you spotted your roommate, Nobara, lounging on the fountain's edge, tapping away at her phone.

Her bright orange hair was styled in its usual sharp bob, and even from a distance, you could see the unmistakable confidence in the way she carried herself.

Nobara was nothing if not bold—always dressed to the nines, even for something as casual as sitting by the fountain; her outfit—ripped skinny jeans, a cropped leather jacket, and combat boots—screamed effortless cool.

By the time you reached her, you were practically dragging your feet.

Nobara glanced up from her phone and raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "You look like shit," she said bluntly, without skipping a beat, holding out her coffee cup.

You didn't even hesitate, reaching for the cup with a grateful nod. "Thanks, I spent all morning on it..." you mumbled, taking a long sip of the lukewarm coffee. The caffeine was probably your only hope of making it through the rest of the evening.

Nobara's eyes flicked over your disheveled appearance—your baggy hoodie with matching swats, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your hair was barely stuffed inside a silk bonnet. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Late night?"

You nodded, swallowing another sip of coffee. "Pulled an all-nighter... Sims 4."

"Gods," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You really need to get a life outside of video games."

You shot her a half-hearted glare. "You try building a perfect six-story mansion with an indoor pool and jacuzzi, okay? It's not as easy as it looks."

She snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, I'm heading out to a party later," she said, flipping her phone in her hand with a casual air. "Frat thing. You coming?"

You groaned at the thought of a loud, crowded frat party. "I don't know; I've got a ton of studying to do," you said, even though you knew that was only half-true. You mostly just wanted to crawl into bed and zone out for a few hours.

Nobara didn't let you off that easy. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Suguru going to be there."

You paused, trying not to let your face show too much interest, but the mention of Suguru was enough to make your pulse quicken.

"I—" You waved her off, trying to keep your cool. "I really should study. Plus, it's not like he even knows I exist."

Nobara scoffed. "Please. He totally knows. You've tutored Megumi, right? I'm sure they talk."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "That's not the same thing," you said, finishing the last sip of her coffee and handing the empty cup back.

"Suit yourself," Nobara said with a shrug brushing invisible dust off her shirt. "But you're missing out. I heard he's single again, you know."

Just as you were about to reply, something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. Like a prairie dog sensing danger, you shot up straight, heart skipping a beat as you spotted a familiar figure in the distance.

It was Suguru.

Your breath hitched as you took in the sight of him. His long dark hair was tied back into a neat man bun, showcasing his sharp jawline and the broad expanse of his shoulders under a fitted black shirt.

He had this effortless cool about him that made you want to stare—but then again, everyone did. He was the kind of guy who turned heads without trying, and right now, he looked annoyingly handsome as usual.

Panicking, you ducked behind a nearby group of walking students, trying to hide your figure as if Suguru could sense you from all the way across campus.

Nobara sucked her teeth, clearly unimpressed with your theatrics. "Seriously?" she muttered, shaking her head. "You are so childish."

Before you could stop her, Nobara stood up, waving her arm in the air like a flag to catch his attention.

"No!" you whispered harshly, nearly choking on the last bit of coffee as you grabbed her arm and tried to drag her back down. "Stop drawing attention!"

Too late.

A shadow fell over you, blocking the sun, and you looked up, heart hammering in your chest. Standing above you was none other than Suguru, his lips curled into a faint smile as he took in the scene.

"Hey, Nobara," he said smoothly, his voice deep and almost teasing. His dark eyes flickered to you, and your entire body went rigid. "____, right?"

Your heart skipped several beats, your breath catching in your throat as you scrambled to respond. "Y-Yes!" you squeaked out, your voice way too high for your liking. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you were sure your face was hot enough to cook an egg on.

Nobara snorted beside you, shaking her head as she muttered under her breath. "Simp," she said, barely loud enough for you to hear, though Suguru didn't seem to catch it.

You glared at her, silently willing her to shut up and stop making things more awkward, but of course, she wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily.

Instead of making small talk or letting the moment pass, Nobara turned to Suguru, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Suguru. My friend here thinks you're hot and wants to fuck."

Your jaw dropped, and for a second, you were sure your soul left your body. "What?!"

Nobara flashed you a wicked grin before air-kissing you goodbye and casually tossing over her shoulder, "See you at the party later, Suguru!"

And just like that, she strutted off, leaving you sitting there wide-eyed and horrified.

A smooth chuckle broke through your panic, pulling you back to reality. You turned slowly, only to find Suguru standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking down at you with an amused tilt of his head.

"So... fuck, huh?" he teased, his voice warm and smooth like honey.

You stammered, trying to form any coherent response, but all that came out were mumbled syllables. Your brain was short-circuiting, your face burning hotter with every passing second.

Finally, you gave up and buried your face in your hands, turning your back to him in pure embarrassment.

Suguru let out another chuckle, taking a few steps closer until his tall frame was towering over you. "You're cute," he said softly, reaching down and gently patting your head. The simple action made your entire brain spiral into chaos, and before you knew it, you were already mentally planning your wedding, picking out baby names, and deciding where you'd honeymoon.

But then Suguru's voice cut through your delusions.

"I'm flattered, really," he said, his tone a little more serious now. "But I've got this rule about not dating freshmen."

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion, the fantasy bubble bursting in an instant. "W-What?"

Suguru shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he glanced to the side. "I mean, it's not that I'm some international playboy or anything," he said, hesitantly but sure of himself. "I'm just... not really looking to settle down. So I try to keeps things simple by steering clear of freshmen. Because... ya know, it's thier first timers for a lot of things."

You pouted, a bit confused by what he meant. But than, realization dawned and you felt your heart shatter. He thought you were a freshman... and that was why he wouldn't be interested in you.

Even then, your heart leaped for a split second before reality set in again. Though you weren't a freshman, you were still a virgin. So technically his rule applied to you as well.

A soft "Why?" slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You were so focused on the fact that you were losing your chance that you didn't even think to correct him.

Suguru sighed, his expression softening. "It's just... I don't want to be the guy who takes that kind of experience from someone, you know? I prefer if the people I'm with have already been through that, so there's no pressure." His voice was calm, almost gentle, as if he was trying to explain something important without hurting your feelings. "It's not fair to put that on someone who's still figuring things out."

Damn, even his explanation was surprisingly sweet.

You couldn't help but appreciate how thoughtful it was. But that didn't stop the disappointment from settling in your chest like a heavy weight. You didn't know what to say—what could you say?

Taking your silence as sadness, Suguru bent down slightly, his face closer to yours, and gave you another light pat on the head, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You know... you're cute enough that I might just break that rule." He winked, and with one last chuckle, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you sitting there, completely dazed.

You sat frozen, unable to do anything but replay his words in your head, even as the mortification continued to burn at your core. "What the fuck..."

A few hours later, you found yourself on your phone, mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram profile, looking at his pictures. "He's so handsome," you sighed. You stared at the 'follow' button, your finger hovering over it.

Hyping yourself up, you quickly pressed the follow button before throwing your phone down. "Okay, there, first step down," you muttered to yourself.

Your thoughts kept circling back to Suguru's words. He thought you were a freshman, but even if he knew you weren't, it wouldn't change anything.

You were still inexperienced.

You let out a groan, rubbing your temples as frustration began to mount. Gods, what would Nobara do? you thought to yourself before shaking your head with a scoff.

Nobara wouldn't even be in this mess... still.

Without much thought, you opened laptop, typing into the search bar: 'How can I gain sexual experience without having sex?' Hundreds of articles popped up at once. Your eyes skimmed through the list.

[Self-love] ~ Tips on how masturbating can get you ready for sex

No.

[PornHub] ~ Virgin girl indulges in sex for the first time

No.

[First-Timers] ~ Website for virgins who are looking for companions

No.

[Phone-Sex] ~ Let your wildest fantasies come to life

No. No. NO.

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning, "This is useless."

Just as you went to click off the tab, something caught your eye.

'Want to gain sexual experience without actually having sex? Click here to join a forum that shows exactly how it can be accomplished!'

You leaned forward, interested. "Hello..." you hummed out loud, about to click the link. You narrowed your eyes at the link, not fully sure if you should trust it or not. With pursed lips, you weighed the pros and cons of the situation.

On one hand, if you clicked on it, it could take you somewhere that might actually help with your current predicament.

But on the other hand, if you didn't, you'd be right back to square one, knowing nothing.

Though, if you did click it, there was a chance you'd end up with a virus—something that would be a real pain to get fixed. "Eh, the school's got multiple computer labs," you shrugged.

With your mind made up, you clicked on the link. You crossed your fingers and prayed to whatever gods above that the website wouldn't give you a virus.

As you scrolled through the page, you came across dozens of supernatural-esque things like shifting, astral projection, spells, etc.

One would think you'd scroll past these because they sounded ridiculous, but the truth was...

"Ugghhh, why does all this shit take weeks to accomplish!?"

...you were very impatient.

Now, you could be patient for a lot of things, but this!? You couldn't risk it. Not when the only factor in your way of being with Suguru was your lack of experience—the full kind.

Not shy kisses in the corner, the short relationships that never lasted once they realized you didn't put out so soon, the disastrous first time performing third base—a memory you would shackle to the depths of your soul if you could.

A bright flash of a blue fire gif caught your eye breaking you out of your growing frenzy.

'Welcome to Infernium,' the post read, with a subtitle that said, "Harness the Power of Lust, Control Your Desires." The page description underneath it was almost like an introduction. It began with: "When I first wanted to experience sex, I just summoned a succubus..."

You skimmed down the post, reading about how Infernium was a different plane of the Abyssum—a shadowy, otherworldly realm that resembled Hell. It was a place where demons thrived by feeding on the raw, intangible energy that fueled human desires and emotions. They didn't outright steal your soul or kill you, but every encounter took a piece of your essence—leaving you feeling just a bit emptier each time.

It was subtle, like losing fragments of yourself—small enough to be overlooked but accumulating with every visit, a price that was insidious and ever-present.

Buuuut...

Instead of reading all of that thoroughly, you scrolled down to the comments section.

As expected, there was a mixture of disbelief, trolls, and snarky remarks. But the further you went, the more positive reviews you found. Some were so detailed that they seemed like fanfics or book excerpts, but something in your gut told you this could be real.

You got lost reading those comments, short anecdotes of people describing their experiences with different succubi and incubi.

Honestly, thought this was BS, but turns out it was one of the wildest nights of my life—didn't even need a safe word, 'cause this dude knew exactly what he was doing. - DarkDreamer99

Mine had pink eyes! Super freaky at first but, not gonna lie, 10/10. - PinkObsession

Listen, if you've never experienced this, you're missing out. Seriously. Just follow the steps, and don't skip anything. - LustfulWanderer

And then you found it—the gold mine. A comment by someone named Sinner_69. They detailed a step-by-step guide on how to do everything, from setting up the ritual to what materials were needed.

Now, common sense said not to go blindly trusting internet comments, but even the author of the post had replied, thanking Sinner_69 and reviewing their method with raging approval.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked at the comment, not sure if you should laugh or close the window. Curiosity got the better of you, and you kept reading down the list.

"Okay, let's see... a bowl, sage, needle, candles..." you mumbled to yourself, going over the list out loud.

The door to your room opened, and you slammed your laptop shut, looking up to see Nobara.

She was still in the same outfit from earlier but had changed into a shorter crop top that showed off her midriff. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the party?" she asked, giving you one last chance.

You waved her off, "Nah, I'm good."

"Alright, suit yourself," she said with a shrug, heading out the door.

As soon as she left, you reopened the laptop and gave the post one more glance. You muttered, "What the hell?" when you saw that an blood was needed. "Goddammit ____, why do you put yourself through this?" you mumbled out loud, heaving yourself off of your bed and rushing over to put your boots on. "I'm so gonna regret this," you sighed, grabbing your jacket and keys on the way out.

"Okay, let's see here, it says first I need..." you read to yourself, pushing up your reading glasses when you felt them slipping.

Within an hour, you managed to not only gather all the supplies needed for the 'summoning' but also completed the first half of the directions.

Though it took a total of three stores, and several judgmental looks from the cashier when buying the demon wards from the Halloween store, you could say it was a success.

Now, you sat in the middle of the circle, allowing the smells of the incense to calm you down. The window in your bedroom was cracked open, letting the warm night breeze filter in. It carried with it the gentle rustle of leaves from outside, and the occasional distant hum of passing cars.

The soft movement of air made the candle flames flicker slightly, casting shifting shadows across the walls. The atmosphere was both soothing and unnerving, as if the room itself held its breath, waiting.

With your eyes closed, you began to chant the words found on the post.

"I, L/N ____, pledge to give myself to the powers of the other side in order to fulfill my desires," you said, your voice loud and steady as you recalled the article stating that the spirits would only listen to those who were willing to give up their all, "my desire is to be presented with an entity that will ensure not only a gain in sexual knowledge as a virgin, but give me confidence to pursue an individual that has currently caught my eye."

After a few seconds of silence, you moved on to the next step. With a deep breath, you began the incantations, "Daemonium de desiderio. Dolores inferni circumdederunt me gratia tua." Your voice remained steady as you repeated this three times. You took another deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. "It's now or never, ____," you told yourself, remembering the next step of the ritual. "You've come this far to chicken out now."

The candlelight flickered slightly, and you shivered, feeling a chill run through your body. "Just relax, ____, just make a little prick, no biggie," you muttered, gripping the needle tightly between your trembling fingers as you held your hand over the wooden bowl filled with a mixture of herbs and other ingredients. The dim glow of the candles reflected off the small needle in your hand.

Taking a deep breath, you placed the tip of the needle against your thumb, mumbling to yourself, "Just a little prick, just a little prick..." over and over. But the moment the sharp point touched your skin, panic set in.

The thought of pain—no matter how minor—made your stomach twist. You hated unnecessary pain, always had. Even the idea of a small cut was enough to make you wince.

Your hands began to tremble more, and tears of frustration welled up in your eyes. "I can't do it!" you cried, dropping the needle as your voice cracked. You shivered, your entire body tensing up in fear, unable to go through with the procedure. You sighed deeply, slouching forward, rubbing a hand down your face. "Gods, what's wrong with me," you muttered with a strained laugh, staring at the materials and the open laptop in front of you.

With a sigh, you reached over and shut the laptop, leaning back and preparing yourself for a mini-sad pity party. It felt ridiculous—summoning an incubus, just to fail because you couldn't handle a little pain. You shook your head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

"Ow!" you suddenly yelped, yanking your hand up. You looked down to find the needle had somehow lodged itself between your thumb and index finger. Your eyes widened, a frown tugging at your lips.

You carefully pulled it out, wincing slightly at the sting before dropping it once more, not noticing as it fell directly into the wooden bowl below.

"Of course," you muttered under your breath, standing up as you sucked on the small wound. You walked towards the bathroom, looking for a band-aid, completely oblivious to what was happening behind you.

Unbeknownst to you, the mixture in the bowl began to bubble slightly, the herbs slowly dissolving as the blood mixed in with the ingredients. The candles flickered again, their flames stretching upwards as if reaching for something.

A strange energy began to fill the room, the air becoming heavy, almost electric. The curtains of your window began to flutter, almost as if someone had crept inside the confines of your room.

"Oh, come on," you groaned as you rummaged through the cabinets, coming up empty-handed. With a sigh, you gave up, shaking your head as you left the bathroom.

As soon as you returned to your room, every single candle surrounding you suddenly went out at once, as if someone had blown them out like birthday candles.

Your eyes snapped open, fear beginning to grow within you as you realized you were suspended in darkness.

This wasn't the typical darkness you were used to—it felt heavier, more inky, like it was swallowing up every ounce of light. The only light you were gifted with was from the moon outside your window, its dim rays barely illuminating the layout of your room.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Timidly, you felt your way over to your bedside table, fingers fumbling as you reached to flick on the lamp.

You pressed the switch—once, twice—but nothing happened. Panic began to build inside you, your mind racing as you desperately tried to make sense of the situation.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly checked for any notifications. A message from the RA popped up in the group chat: "Heads up everyone, the power will be on and off tonight due to maintenance fixing the breaker. Will keep y'all updated." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you lowered your phone. "Great timing," you muttered under your breath.

Determined not to let the eerie atmosphere get the best of you, you reached into your bedside drawer, searching for your lighter to relight the candles for light. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal, and you pulled it out, flicking it on with shaky hands.

The small flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow that provided you with a bit of comfort, even if it wasn't much.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you glanced around the darkened room. Something felt off—the air was thick, charged, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren't alone.

Walking back over to one of the candles, you flicked it on, ready to light the candles back up, thinking that the wind from outside might have blown them out. Leaning forward to the first candle, you flinched when you heard a thump from somewhere behind you.

You swiveled your head left and right, trying to see if you could find what caused the noise.

At once, all the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the temperature of the room dropped. "...____..." A voice suddenly whispered out your name, the sound echoing as if someone was shouting in the distance.

You could feel your heart thrumming dangerously within your chest.

"...____..." It sounded breathless, somewhat taunting as it bounced around the room.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt a chill sweep throughout your body. It felt as if someone was sitting before you, blowing air into your face.

You squeezed your right hand, hoping that the pain would help anchor you amidst your whirling emotions, but it did nothing as your fear raged on like a fire scorching away.

With clenched eyes, you began to mumble soft hymns to yourself, "Jesus l-loves me, yes I know, f-for the Bible tells me so..." The tune was shaky as it left your trembling lips.

"Okay, breathe, ____, this is not real, it is only my imagination," you told yourself, repeating the sentence over and over again like a mantra. You felt your breathing calm down with the words, your shoulders relaxing as you began to believe in what you said. "See, it was just all in your head—"

You stopped breathing when you felt warm breath ghost over the side of your face, a pair of soft lips grazing the top of your ear.

"Aww," the voice teased, the tone dripping with mockery. "Did you really think a few little hymns would protect you? How precious..."

A blood-curdling scream exited your mouth just as the lights flickered on. You stumbled back, your heart pounding painfully against your ribcage. The lighter dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor as your wide eyes darted around the room.

Nothing. There was no one there.

The candles remained unlit, the curtains still, and the air seemed to have returned to its normal temperature.

But you knew—you knew—that you hadn't imagined it. Your skin still tingled from the feeling of those lips against your ear, and the echo of that mocking voice still reverberated in your mind.

Your eyes flicked to the bowl on the floor, the once-glowing mixture now dark and still. You backed up, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you tried to process what had just happened. "This can't be real," you whispered, your voice shaking. "This isn't happening."

Instead of hitting the wall, your back collided with something else—something firm and warm. Panic surged through you, and before you could react, a familiar voice drawled behind you, "You humans are so weird..."

You felt hands trail down your back, their touch sending a shiver through you as they moved down your arms before wrapping around your waist in a firm grip. The sensation wasn't just hands; it was claws, sharp yet careful, grazing your skin as if savoring every tremble you made. "...You wish for something, yet when it's in front of you, you deny it, run from it... How amusing."

Your breath felt trapped in your throat, your heart pounding wildly. Slowly, against every instinct in your body screaming at you to run, you turned around. The grip on your waist loosened slightly, allowing you to face whatever was behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widening as you took in the sight before you. He was tall—taller than any man you'd ever seen.

His hair was a stark, snowy white, almost glowing in the dim light of your room, and his eyes were an intense, piercing blue that seemed to look right through you. His chest was bare, revealing perfectly sculpted muscles, each defined line standing out under his honey-tan skin.

He was also wearing short silk boxers that stopped mid-thigh, the fabric clinging loosely to his form. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the sharpness of his presence, making him appear almost otherworldly.

But what truly caught your attention were the small, curled horns protruding from his head and the long, winding tail that lazily whipped behind him.

Your mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out.

The incubus smirked, bending at the waist and bringing up a clawed hand. He used a single finger to gently scratch under your chin, then closed your mouth for you. "What's the matter... devil got your tongue?" he taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

You took a staggering step back, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to find your voice, though it was shaky. "I-It worked," you stammered, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. "You... you actually came."

The incubus grinned, stepping over the wooden bowl and chalk lines as if they meant nothing. He moved with a confidence that was both captivating and terrifying, his gaze never leaving you. "Of course I did. How could I resist such an earnest little summoning?"

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. He was here. An actual incubus was in your room, and the realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

This was real. You had actually done it.

The demon's eyes trailed over your form, taking in the sight of your tank-top and short sleeping shorts. His voice came out low and teasing, his head tilting slightly as he spoke. "So, you're the one who wants to gain some experience, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he took a step closer.

You felt your face heat up, your cheeks burning at his words. In that moment, you forgot entirely why you had even done this whole ritual—caught up in the fact that it had actually worked. "I-I mean, I just..." you stammered, your words trailing off as you felt awkward under his intense gaze.

The demon took another step closer, towering over you. He let out a soft, almost mocking coo at your embarrassment. "Aw, don't be shy. You summoned me for a reason, didn't you?"

You nodded, barely able to meet his gaze. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you jumped slightly at the contact, your eyes snapping back to his.

"Relax," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I'm not gonna bite... unless you want me to." His smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your entire body tense. He was so close, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, but it was impossible with him looking at you like that—with those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

The incubus's hand slid from your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head up so that you had no choice but to look at him. "You said you wanted to learn, right?" he whispered, his lips just inches from yours. "I can teach you... everything you want to know."

Just as he leaned down, about to press his lips against yours, you suddenly found your voice, stuttering out, "W-Wait!" You pushed past him, your hands trembling as you put space between the two of you.

You held up a shaky hand, trying to steady your breath. "Just... just give me a second, okay?" you said, your voice still trembling. You needed time to think—to understand what was happening, to process this overwhelming presence.

The incubus sighed, a sound that was almost a groan of frustration. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. "You don't understand, sweetheart," he said, his voice laced with impatience. "I can't leave until our bargain is complete. You summoned me for a reason—until you lose your virginity, until we complete what you called me here for, I am bound to you."

Your eyes widened, and you swallowed nervously. "I... I know. It's just—" you paused, trying to gather your thoughts. "There's this guy, Suguru. I... I like him, but he doesn't mess with virgins, and I don't know what I'm doing. I thought maybe if I had some experience, I could... I don't know..." You trailed off, your face burning in embarrassment. The words tumbled out in a messy, awkward ramble, and you wished you could just disappear.

The incubus laughed, a low, amused chuckle that made your skin prickle. He slowly began closing the distance between you again, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, I see now," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "This is all for some boy, huh?"

You took a step back, shaking your head. "It's not like that! I mean, it is, but—" You stumbled over your words, watching as Gojo's smirk grew wider with every stutter.

He took another step forward, and you moved again, trying to keep the space between you. "I—I mean, I don't even know you like that," you stammered, your voice weak as you grasped for any excuse.

He froze, staring down at you as if you had just grown several heads. He raised an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Then, after a moment, he let out an amused scoff. "You don't know me, huh?" He shook his head, his eyes glinting with something wicked. "Fine, you can call me Satoru."

Before you could react, the incubus—Satoru—stalked toward you, his movements smooth and confident. You backed up until you felt the wall press against your back, your heart pounding as he stopped just inches away from you.

His arm came up, his palm resting flat against the wall beside your head, effectively pinning you in place.

"Listen, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "You wanted to learn, right? Well, you need to learn the basics first. You need to learn how to relax, how to let yourself feel..." His other hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, trailing up to your shoulder. "How to respond to someone's touch."

Your breath caught in your throat, your entire body tensing as his fingers traced along your skin. The heat of his touch was almost too much, your heart racing as his words sank in.

You knew he was right—you had summoned him for this, to learn, to gain experience—but it was so much more overwhelming than you had imagined.

Satoru started speaking again, his voice pulling your attention back to him. He tilted your face up gently, making you meet his eyes as he hummed, "I understand... You're a virgin, after all." He said it softly, almost as if he was comforting you, but there was a teasing edge in his tone that made your cheeks flush even more.

Slowly, he backed away from you, his gaze never leaving yours until he stopped at the edge of your bed. He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he spoke again. "If you're not ready to start, that's fine. We can start slow... Maybe you could learn the signs of when a man wants you."

You blinked, confusion furrowing your brow. "What do you mean—?" you started to ask, but your tongue went dry in your throat as you watched him. Satoru's blue eyes darkened, his entire presence becoming almost magnetic as he leaned back on your bed, propping himself up on his hands.

His muscles flexed as he settled into the position, his sculpted chest and abs on full display, his honey-tan skin almost glowing in the light. You couldn't help but stare, your eyes following the lines of his body as he showcased himself. Satoru noticed your reaction, his smirk widening, clearly pleased.

"It's not hard to see the signs," he said, his voice smooth as silk as he spread his legs slightly, the movement confident and intentional. His tail whipped behind him lazily, the motion almost hypnotic as he continued speaking. "A man's body will tell you everything you need to know if you pay attention."

Your eyes flicked down, unable to help yourself as Satoru's hands moved slowly over his own skin. He rubbed his chest, his fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles, before moving down to his thighs. His touch was deliberate, his fingers pressing into the firm muscle, and you could feel your face growing hotter with every passing second.

He let out a soft sigh, his eyes watching you intently as he continued. "The way his body reacts... the way he touches himself... all signs that he wants you." His voice was low, almost a purr, and it made your stomach twist with a mix of nervousness and something else—something that made your skin feel too hot, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Satoru's hand moved lower, and before you could process what was happening, he pulled out his dick, the length thick and impressive as it flopped heavily against his stomach. His eyes never left yours as he did so, watching your every reaction.

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flooding you, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't look away.

Your gaze was fixed on him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight before you—the way it rested against his stomach, the veins prominent along the thick length, pulsing faintly. The pink, flushed tip stood out against the rest, glistening slightly.

The slight sheen of his skin under the dim light made every detail more vivid, and the trail of white hair leading down accentuated his toned muscles.

It was overwhelming, and yet, you were entranced.

He stroked himself slowly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched your reaction. "See, sweetheart? It's all about paying attention... learning what a man wants." His voice was a seductive whisper, his gaze holding you captive as he continued.

Satoru's hand moved in steady, deliberate strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. He let out soft groans, each sound making your stomach twist with an unfamiliar mix of nervousness and curiosity. The noise started out as barely audible sighs, but soon turned into deep, breathy pants that filled the room, echoing in your ears.

His gaze was locked on you, his blue eyes darkened with lust as he watched your every reaction—how your eyes widened, how your lips parted slightly, and how you shifted uncomfortably where you stood. His legs were spread out, his body relaxed as he continued to touch himself, his movements growing more purposeful with each passing moment.

He moaned, the sound low and drawn out, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. His hips began to move slightly, rising off the bed in response to his own touch. The veins along his length stood out even more as his hand moved faster, his breaths turning into shallow pants.

Satoru let out a low whimper, his eyes never breaking contact with yours. "____..." he murmured, your name slipping from his lips in a breathy moan that made your entire body tense. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively, trying to ignore the heat that was building inside you.

It was too much—his voice, the way he said your name—it all made you feel things you weren't sure how to handle.

He noticed, of course, his smirk widening as his eyes flicked down to your legs. "Aw, a-are you feeling it too, s-sweetheart?" he teased, his voice barely above a whisper. He let out another groan, his hips stuttering slightly as they lifted off the bed, his hand working faster over himself.

Satoru's movements became more urgent, his body tensing as he continued, his eyes still locked onto yours.

Every noise he made—every groan, every sigh—seemed to echo in your head, making it impossible to think of anything else but him and the way he was looking at you.

Satoru's movements became more urgent, his body tensing as he continued, his eyes still locked onto yours.

Every noise he made—every groan, every sigh—seemed to echo in your head, making it impossible to think of anything else but him and the way he was looking at you.

His eyes flashed a bright electric blue for a split second, and his voice came out husky, filled with need. "Come here," he commanded, and before you could even think, your feet were moving, obeying him.

You found yourself standing right in front of him, close enough that you could see every detail—the way his thighs twitched, the muscles of his stomach flexing, the slick, wet sounds of his hand moving over himself filling the space between you.

You felt yourself growing hotter, the sight of him this close making it impossible to ignore just how affected he was. His breathing was labored, each pant turning into a needy groan. His hips moved steadily, his body following the rhythm of his hand, and then his eyes met yours again. "Touch me," he groaned, the desperation clear in his voice.

You bit your bottom lip, your hands shaking as you slowly reached out. Your fingers brushed against his thigh, and the moment you made contact, Satoru let out a sultry groan, his head falling back, eyes closing briefly.

Encouraged, you let your hands trail up and down his thighs, feeling the strength in the muscles beneath your fingers. His skin was warm, almost hot to the touch, and you couldn't help but be in awe of the power you felt in him.

Satoru let out another groan, his hips stuttering for a moment as if reminding you of what he wanted. Your eyes flicked up, and you saw his head lolled to the side, his right arm tense and trembling as it held him up while his left hand continued to work over himself. He looked undone, his usually confident demeanor replaced with something raw and vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking down to where your hand rested on his thigh. Slowly, you moved your hand up, caressing his skin until you hesitantly cupped the base of his length. It was hot—almost burning—and you could feel it twitch against your palm, the sensation making your heart pound even harder.

Satoru let out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. "Squeeze," he muttered, his voice rough, and you did as he asked, your fingers wrapping around him. He let out a shaky breath, his hips pushing up into your hand, and he cleared his throat, panting as he looked up at you. "Stroke it... like this," he instructed, guiding your movements. "Every man likes it a bit different, but... just follow my lead."

You nodded, your hand moving awkwardly at first as you tried to mimic his earlier motions. Satoru's gaze never left you, his breaths growing heavier as you found a rhythm.

The heat of him under your touch was almost overwhelming, and you could feel the slickness of his pre-cum as it dribbled down, coating your hand. He let out a low, broken moan, his hips snapping up more frantically, the wet sounds growing louder as you continued.

His entire body seemed to tense, his muscles straining as he came closer to the edge. His abs clenched, his stomach flexing involuntarily with each thrust of his hips. The sounds he made grew louder, more desperate, until finally, with a deep, guttural moan, he came.

His back arched off the bed, his body trembling as his release spilled over, dribbling down his length and hitting your hand. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth falling open as he rode out his orgasm, every muscle in his body going taut before slowly relaxing.

The cum dripped down, pooling on his stomach, and you couldn't help but watch, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him coming apart beneath your touch.

Satoru cracked open an eye, his lips tugging up into a smirk. "Good job," he murmured, his voice still a bit breathless. "You just learned how to give a handjob."

You felt your face flush, a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness bubbling up inside you. "I-I know how one is done," you muttered, trying to hide the awkwardness you felt. "I... I even know what a blowjob is... I've done it before." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and your mind flashed back to your senior prom, shivering in disgust at the memory of your date fumbling and the uncomfortable experience.

It had been horrible—nothing like this.

Satoru's amused hum pulled you back from the terrible memory. He shifted slightly, leaning back comfortably on your bed, his smirk widening as he looked at you. "Is that so?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

Before you could respond, he continued, his tone shifting into something a bit more curious. "Tell me then... Have you ever been eaten out before?"

Your eyes widened, and you let out a startled noise, almost choking on your own breath. "W-What?!" you spluttered, your face heating up even more. "That has nothing to do with learning how to please a man!"

Satoru sat up, his eyes still locked on you. "Of course it does," he said matter-of-factly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Some men get nothing but pleasure from taking care of their partner... Making sure you're enjoying yourself can be the biggest turn-on."

You opened your mouth to disagree, but the words caught in your throat when Satoru reached for your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. He pulled you closer, his touch firm but not forceful, until you were standing directly in front of him. He stared up at you through his lashes, his white hair falling messily across his forehead, and you couldn't help but feel your breath hitch.

"C'mon," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Ride my face."

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to come up with a response. "I-I don't think... I mean, what if I'm too heavy—" you started to say, only for Satoru to cut you off with a scoff.

"Sweetheart, I'm not human," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "You can't hurt me." As if to prove his point, his tail curled around your waist, the firm grip a reminder of his strength and otherworldly nature. "Trust me... I want this."

You looked off to the side, your anxiety bubbling in your chest. After a long moment, you finally gave in, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay..."

Satoru wasted no time. His hands moved to your shorts, pulling them down swiftly and tossing them somewhere behind him. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as he guided you over his body, his hands pulling you closer as he lay back down, urging you to crawl over him.

Your knees pressed into the bed on either side of his chest, and you moved awkwardly, your heart pounding as you tried to position yourself above him.

His hands found their place at your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you hovered over his head.

Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and the insecurity you felt only made it worse. You were unsure of what to expect—sure, you'd read smut, you'd watched porn, but it was entirely different when you were actually doing it.

This was real, and you could feel every nerve in your body buzzing with uncertainty.

You avoided looking down, not wanting to meet those electric blue eyes that were staring up at you from between your thighs. You could feel his gaze on you, his intensity almost overwhelming, and it made you feel vulnerable in a way you'd never felt before.

"Are you ready?" Satoru asked, his voice softer now, a hint of something almost reassuring beneath the teasing tone.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I... I guess," you muttered, your voice shaky and uncertain.

Before you could prepare yourself, Satoru yanked you down onto his mouth, his grip firm as he pulled you against him.

You let out a startled gasp, your hands shooting out to steady yourself as you fell forward slightly, your fingers tangling in his hair. A low groan rumbled from his throat the moment he tasted you, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body.

His tongue was hot, wet, and the feeling of it against you made your head spin. He traced up and down your slit with a deliberate slowness, each movement of his tongue making your breath hitch.

You could feel the warmth of his mouth, the way his tongue explored every part of you, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently, then tonguing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You couldn't help the sounds that slipped from your lips, your entire body trembling as he worked you over. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continued, the sensation of his tongue moving against you almost too much to handle.

You tried to lift yourself up, to ease the overwhelming pressure building inside of you, but his tail curled around your waist tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"S-Satoru." You whined out his name in a broken moan, your hips slowly beginning to grind against his mouth, finding a delicious tempo.

Satoru groaned in response, the sound vibrating against you, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. His tongue moved with a deliberate slowness, almost teasing in the way it licked over you. It felt strange—soft yet firm, the texture unfamiliar but intoxicating.

A stuttered gasp left your lips as his tongue began to press into your entrance, the hot, wet sensation making your thighs tremble.

You couldn't control your movements anymore, your hips rocking against his face, chasing the pleasure that was building inside of you. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch, your fingers gripping tightly onto his hair as you lost yourself in the feeling.

Satoru's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you, encouraging you to keep going, his muffled groans only spurring you on further.

Your legs trembled, your movements growing more frantic as the pressure built higher and higher, the knot in your stomach tightening until it was almost unbearable. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you rode his face, your entire body tensing.

And then, finally, it snapped. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body shuddering as you came, your head thrown back, eyes squeezing shut as your hips stuttered against his mouth.

You could feel Satoru groaning against you, his tongue still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure as your body trembled above him.

Your legs felt like they could barely hold you up as you moved off of Satoru, collapsing next to him on the bed, panting heavily. Your entire body felt boneless, the aftershocks of your release still making your muscles twitch.

You glanced over at Satoru, your cheeks flushing as you took in the sight of him—his face slick with your juices, his eyes half-lidded and satisfied.

Satoru stretched like a cat, his body arching as he let out a contented sigh, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He sat up slowly, his gaze flicking to you as he used his thumb to swipe over his bottom lip before sucking on it, his eyes never leaving yours.

He moved closer, crawling over to you with a lazy grin on his face. "So," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Were you satisfied?"

You nodded, your cheeks still flushed. "Y-Yeah..." you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru's hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your neck before cupping your face gently. He hummed, his eyes studying your expression. "You know," he said, his tone almost thoughtful, "technically, I've completed our deal." He smirked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You didn't specify what kind of sex... only that you wanted experience, confidence. And I'd say teaching you this definitely counts."

His eyes darkened slightly, the teasing glint in them replaced with something more intense. His thumb traced along your lip, his gaze locked onto yours. "But I have to say," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "I really enjoyed this..."

He leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, sweetheart... I'll be back. After all, you're still a virgin."

With that, he pulled away, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. His body seemed to dissolve into black smoke, the dark tendrils swirling around him before disappearing completely, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, your heart still pounding in your chest.

You flopped back onto your bed, releasing a satisfied sigh. "Well, that escalated quickly..."

Your phone pinged. Reaching for it, you turned it on, eyes widening at the notification.

Geto Suguru now follows you.

"Well, shit..."

A/N: ahhhh, not me getting into the halloween spirit 💀 hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i enjoyed writing it...

399 notes · View notes

msgexymunson · 11 months ago

Text

The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all.

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist

This must be the spot.

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees.

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time.

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too.

“Hey, you leave me a note?”

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you.

“Yeah, you OK?”

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth.

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.”

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.”

He laughs, tipping his head back.

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!”

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing?

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun.

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain.

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up.

“So, you got something for me?”

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe.

“For you? Of course.”

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand.

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?”

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length.

“Twenty?”

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes.

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.”

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him.

“Here, twenty.”

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile.

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?”

“Sure, why not.”

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand.

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.”

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls.

“So, you're new? When did you start?”

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue.

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.”

“Oh really? What did you do?”

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits.

“What didn't I do?”

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad.

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush.

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move.

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second.

“Huh?”

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you.

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him.

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away.

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table.

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little.

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.”

“Yeah?”

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness.

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips.

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.”

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips.

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones.

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more.

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole.

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.”

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't.

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.”

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing.

“Do you wanna come to mine later?”

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord.

“Are you- for real?”

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned.

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.”

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.”

“Swear? On what?”

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?”

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go.

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!”

“Alright then, scouts honour?”

“You were a girl scout?”

“No.”

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign.

“I swear on Ozzy.”

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab.

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.”

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it.

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…”

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that.

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.”

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party.

********************

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit.

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense.

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door.

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers.

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised.

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house.

“And your last name is…?”

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip.

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him.

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-”

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock.

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??”

“The one and only, sweetheart.”

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.”

“Well, I'm a lot of things.”

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano.

“Dustins gonna kill me.��

Eddie shakes his head.

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?”

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.”

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second.

“If you want me to go-”

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-”

“Wait, you seriously don't care?”

“Nope. You're too hot.”

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer.

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing.

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you.

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing.

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.”

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer.

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?”

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.”

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?”

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor.

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy.

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.”

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy.

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing.

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm.

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you.

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there.

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation.

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on.

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on.

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth.

“Please, please, please-”

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside.

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb.

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm.

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other.

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him.

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone.

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips.

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine.

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe.

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life.

“Fuck, you are a dream.”

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word.

“Bedroom?”

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste.

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem.

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers.

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-”

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants.

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar.

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging.

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten.

“Fuck stop stop, please.”

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb.

“You OK there champ?”

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.”

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties.

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die.

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down.

“No. Leave them on.”

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you.

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God.

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour.

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it.

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours.

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.”

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important.

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-”

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard.

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty.

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.”

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth.

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach.

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!”

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise.

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?”

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end.

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed.

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer.

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?”

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can.

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.”

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?”

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room.

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up.

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out.

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.”

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence.

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in.

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin.

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.”

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o.

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.”

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home.

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back.

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours.

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back.

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.”

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-”

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!”

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately.

“Then stay. Stay with me.”

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!”

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other.

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care.

********************

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers.

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss.

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do.

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge.

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye.

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled.

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?”

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty.

“Sup, Dust Buster!”

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!”

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-”

“Until you were in my fucking house???”

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.”

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!”

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.”

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!”

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it.

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.”

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to.

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?”

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play.

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?”

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!”

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?”

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.”

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