#two lovely confident gay men

[ragtagravenart]

Drew more archley art bc i love them and gotta put them in situations (i was also encouraged by my partner to draw these bc what else would we do than instigate eachother)

[inkats]

Hiyori Tomoe + I was feeling weird about drawing and then saw a handsome woman and died a little bit.

[extraeggopath]

At the end of the poll, the two are just gonna start kissing so it's just a win win for both of them

[jonivngel]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

"You weren't sure what you'd stepped into, but you loved how your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest with anxiety, excitement, and desire all at once. The hungry gazes of the two men sitting at the table made you feel like you were treading into dangerous waters, like monsters were lurking in the dark ready to devour you and consume your soul whole."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,904

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭:: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, drunk sex, a bit of degradation, praise kink kinda, oral (male on male, female on male, and male on female), mxmxf sex, mxf penetration, overstimulation, edging, car sex, dangerous car sex lol (don't do this shit pls), voyerism, exhibitionism, just overall filth ngl, satosugu is bisexual so gay stuff, fluffy at the end

a/n: yea... this is my favorite reader insert I've written. maybe also the best smut... enjoy! not really edited since the contents clouded my judgment..

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.

You dressed yourself in a pretty black dress and black cat heels. A gold necklace around your neck glistened in the light of the luxurious restaurant you found yourself in. You looked good and it boosted your confidence. There was nothing that could deter you from the objective for tonight's meeting. That was- judge the pretty little thing Suguru was sneaking around with from head to toe and scare him senseless. Although, you knew the scaring part was impossible, after all, you weren't oblivious to the identity of the man you would meet. You just wished he'd feel just as jealous as he'd made you.

Suguru told you that his other lover was eager to meet you. In fact, he insisted on taking you both to one of the most prestigious locales for fine dining in the city. You felt flattered. Perhaps that was the goal because it created the impression that this meeting was a momentous occasion for both of you.

You were excited. You could tell Suguru was excited too, because the mischievous smirk you've seen on him so many times before didn't falter for a second since you left your home. It made you even more curious to find out just what would happen when you saw him for the first time. The anticipation felt like ants crawling under your skin, you were restless. The restlessness causes your eyes to search hastily through the sea of people for vibrant blue eyes and stark white hair.

You felt out of place in a restaurant like this. Everyone seemed like they were nobility, hearty laughter that reeked of money echoing in your ears. Rich bastards that hadn't a single care in the world. It made you feel uneasy because he either chose this place to pamper you or to throw you off your axis, play this game on his home turf. You couldn't show weakness, though, so you held your ground, searching for him with determination.

Then you spotted him. Sitting in the far back of the restaurant, a coupe glass in his hand filled with a pink fizzy cocktail. French kiss. Nice touch.

Suguru ghosted his hand over your lower back, urging you to go first. You did. With your head held high and your hips swaying tastefully and deliciously, the short dress revealing enough to get any man to drool at a single glimpse of you. There was nothing to be afraid of when you looked deadly as sin and so sweet and tasty at the same time.

It didn't take long for him to spot you, probably because he could feel the cursed energy radiating off of Suguru and you both, the magnitude of your appearance altering the atmosphere instantaneously. He turned slowly though, feigning nonchalance, showing you he had no reason to be afraid of you either.

Once you walked up to him he stood up and towered over you, just as Suguru always did. He was even taller. Oh, it made you feel so tiny. He looked like he could crush you with one hand. Not at all the pretty little princess Suguru described him as. It made a rush of blood go straight to your abdomen, heat consuming your entire being at the thought of what might transpire by the end of the night.

“Satoru, I presume.” You smiled at him and stretched out your hand in a greeting.

He took it and bowed down to place a tender kiss on the back of it, your thoughts spiraling immediately. “That's right.” His voice had a seductive lilt to it and suddenly you were livid Suguru even thought about hiding this man from you. Then you reminded yourself that you were there to judge him, not fall for his beautiful face and hands and shoulders and- “You must be, Y/N.”

When he smiled back and folded his glasses into the pocket of his suit jacket, suddenly all air was sucked out of your lungs.

He was gorgeous.

Wow, was the only thought that appeared in your head, jealousy and determination washed down the river of your unholy thoughts.

You never liked men with such fair features, Suguru being case and point, but the pristine aquamarine eyes staring back at you were like a sparkling and swirling potion that could get you addicted to him. In appearance he was the complete opposite of your Suguru, they looked like a match made in heaven. A tasty treat for you, too.

You sat down when Suguru pulled out a chair for you, feeling your cheeks warm up with the way this man was looking at you. He clearly didn't see you as competition. He saw you as prey. He had a devious smirk on his face, pearly white teeth shining in the dim light of the restaurant. His eyes were devouring the sight of you without shame, from head to toe, until he looked at you through his fluffy angelic eyelashes with an even bigger grin.

“I've heard a lot about you, Satoru.” You said sweetly and cleared your throat, picking up a menu to flip through the pages and decide on a drink for yourself. You had to look away from him because, now that you saw his face, all you could imagine was him and Suguru in the back of that black Mercedes you took to the restaurant. It was too soon to let those kinds of thoughts get the best of you.

He chuckled, “All good, I presume?” He was cocky. You liked that. It suited him, and you understood quite well what Suguru meant when he said that he knows he's pretty. You thought you were confident, but confidence was this man's middle name, you were aware you probably had no chance to win this game from the start.

“Of course,” you purred in response, glancing at Suguru, who seemed like he was having the time of his life.

Your beloved was gazing at you with lust in his eyes, a dark and deep desire that had you completely cornered with Satoru gazing at you the same way. It was like you'd walked into the wolf's den and you were looking straight into its sharp canines and drooling mouth. As if the Michelin star food you were about to eat was just an appetizer for the real main course- you. It thrilled you to your core, to be desired so wonderfully by two most handsome men you've seen in your life, making you realize why some women crave such male validation. It wasn't the validation that you were seeking, though, Suguru provided enough of that throughout your relationship.

It was the hunger. The deep perverted hunger he infected you with when he mentioned how good his other lover takes him before he returns home to do the same depraved things they did to you. Curiosity, too. Because no matter how hard you tried to get it off your mind, you couldn't stop thinking about whether all you heard was true.

Satoru called the waiter over for you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you ordered a cherry negroni, trying to coax a reaction out of him with the abhorrently bitter choice for your drink. He raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his beautiful face. He was aware of the game you were playing, subliminal messages in every little choice you made since you walked in.

“I would've picked the Shirley.”

“Hm, I know.”

This made him laugh and you smiled, feeling like the ice was finally broken and the buzzing atmosphere officially assumed a friendly light.

“Should we order food?” Suguru questioned, speaking for the first time since you sat down. He seemed to realize that this meeting was going in a great direction and suddenly felt like speeding things along to get to the fun part.

You didn't object and you all ordered, the waiter nodding and walking off.

“So, Y/N…” Satoru mused, leaning forward as he propped his chin onto his palm and looked at you with that seductive, half lidded stare, “Are you really as sweet as our dear Suguru described?”

Your mind was sent on a trip of its own once again with the deliberate phrasing of that sentence. “Depends,” you huff in amusement, giving him the same look he was giving you while crossing your arms to push up your clevege, to which his eyes immediatelly dropped down for a split second before returning back to your face.

“I guess I'll just have to check for myself then, hm?” He leaned back, licking his lips, and crossed his legs, a dangerous glint lurking beyond the aquamarine pools.

“Satoru,” Suguru chuckled, “Let her be. We're here for dinner, remember?” His tone was the same sweet tone he'd whisper the most beautiful words of love to you, but he was looking at his other lover scornfully, silently signaling that he should back off a little and know his place.

“We're just getting acquainted, Suguru.” He looked back at you, “Do you not see the pink on her cheeks? They're just yearning for a bite.”

You weren't sure what you'd stepped into, but you loved how your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest with anxiety, excitement, and desire all at once. The hungry gazes of the two men sitting at the table made you feel like you were treading into dangerous waters, like monsters were lurking in the dark ready to devour you and consume your soul whole. The game didn't include only you and Satoru, there was an unspoken tension between the two men as well, Satoru being keen to get a piece of you since Suguru presented you to him so graciously. And Suguru seemed to struggle with knowing that.

The electric tension buzzing in the air made you want to skip dinner too.

Although, you needed the energy if all three of you were going to return to your home. So you enjoyed your meal, drank a few very strong cocktails. You three talked about nothing in particular, Suguru and Satoru discussed the well-being of their former classmates and you listened while downing some more cocktails. By the end the alcohol was swirling comfortably in your stomach, heating up your whole body to the point that you felt like the skimpy dress you wore was too many clothes to be wearing.

You were about halfway through imagining that same skimpy dress being torn off your body by one, if not two handsome men, when Satoru called the waiter over for the cheque. You felt like it was your call whether or not he was going to be joining Suguru and you tonight, so you took the final sip of your final drink and spoke up.

“’Toru, why don't you join me and Sugu for some more drinks at our place, hm? I'm sure we can manage a little sweet Shirley for you…”

He was grinning almost ear to ear, agreeing without a second thought. “If Suguru doesn't mind…” He turned to look at the dark haired man, “Do you?”

“Not at all,” Suguru stood up and pulled out your chair, suddenly in a hurry to get going, “You're always welcome, Satoru.”

Moments later you found yourself in the back of a black Mercedes, a certain white haired man with you. Suguru was driving, of course, glancing into the rear-view mirror every once in a while to check on you.

You were a nervous wreck. It was like the alcohol was making you even more eager to be touched, fantasizing about what it would feel like to be folded in two by someone almost twice your size on the very seat you were sitting on. The drive was going to be a while longer, you needed to entertain yourself somehow.

You pulled out a packet of gum and popped one into your mouth without thinking because, damn, those negronis were really bitter.

“Can I have some?”

You turned your head to see Satoru with his palm up in expectation, like a little kid asking for sweets on Halloween.

An idea sparked in your mind. There was surely no need to hold back, you were well aware where this evening is going to go. Even though there was still some doubt in the back of your head, you felt a sick and twisted urge for payback towards Suguru for all of this. And Satoru looked so delicious when your system flooded with liquor that you didn't care. You just simply couldn't wait any longer.

“Yeah, sure,” you said and leaned over, pulling him in by his neck and crashing your lips to his, finding his tongue with your own to share the sweet taste of the gum in your mouth. He let out a whiny moan once the sugar melted on his tastebuds, muffled by the insistent and captivating work of your tongue.

Suguru nearly crashed the car.

Satoru's hands were immediatelly on your thighs, slipping under your skirt, fingers sinking into the soft flesh and pulling you onto his lap. He kissed you like he was starving for it, rutting his hips into yours from below, making the heat between your legs become almost too much to bear.

There was no hesitation and no protest from either of the men, which you were pleased about and so, so damn ready to let Satoru fuck you right before Suguru's eyes. It was a form of payback, showing him that you could have as much fun with Satoru as him- if not more.

You kissed a trail from Satoru's mouth across his cheek, until your lips were right next to his ear. “You like fucking in the back seat, right?”

The noise that escaped his mouth was nothing short of animalistic, his hands doing quick work to unbuckle his belt as an invitation.

“Satoru…” A low grumble came from the front seat, warning the white haired man.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “C'mon, Sugu, she's asking me…”

A dangerous gleam flashed in the eyes glaring at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

“You don't want to see us have a little bit of fun, my love?” You grinned, the sickly sweet tone of your voice making Satoru’s cock jump in his pants under you. “You don't want to see your two sweethearts fuck the frustration out of each other? You got us here, lovely.”

You ignored the annoyed huff coming from the front seat, reaching down to pull Satoru's cock out of his pants. And once again you were left speechless, eyes wide at the agonizingly delicious sight of him. You looked back into his eyes, glossed over with depraved, sinful desire and lips parted with heavy breaths huffing past them. He was pretty and so wrecked already, just from kissing you and from feeling Suguru's angry eyes on you two being so perverted together.

“’Toru, baby, rip these panties off of me, please?”

And do that he did.

The torn piece of flimsy cloth was thrown on the seat beside you and his fingers wasted no time to toy with your sensitive clit. The sweet pleasure had you squealing out in surprise, thighs tense as you tried your best to hold yourself up over him.

“Suguru, where did you find this little minx, hm?”

Suguru was still silent in the front seat, driving as fast as he could without breaking any laws, turning corners sharply and running through yellow lights to get you home as soon as possible. He was angry you'd started without him- he's the one who introduced the two of you. But at the same time, he couldn't help the torturingly delightful satisfaction he felt from seeing the two of you make a mess out of each other. He felt like he was still the winner here.

You were drunk enough to not care whether he was going to punish you or praise you for getting along so well with Satoru. The white haired man had you whining and mewling out his name as his fingers found their pace inside of you pussy, stretching you out as preparation for the large cock that was pushing up against your thigh in the tightly confined space of the backseat.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I'm so glad I got to meet you,” he whispered, his free hand finding its place around your throat, gently squeezing to make your head muddled even more, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss that made you tighten around his fingers.

“M-Me too, - ah.. hngnh S'toru-”

He smirked and sped up the pace of his fingers, making the coil in your abdomen snap as you squealed quietly, vocal-chords paralyzed from the intensity of the orgasm consuming your entire body. The feeling was made even more intense with the hellish look on Satoru's angelic face and the sensation of being watched and listened to by your sweet Suguru.

“There you go, sweetheart, cum for me.” He whispered softly, his fingers becoming more tender inside of you, helping you come down from your high. “Does Sugu make you feel this good, hm, baby? Look at him-” He muttered and made you turn around to look at Suguru, his eyes fixated on the road in a last ditch effort to not crash the fucking car before you get home. “Look how worked up you've got him, I bet he wants to ruin your sweet little pussy as much as I do.” He's lifting your hips up and rubbing his cock against the sloppy mess of your tight hole, hand flying to your face to make you look at Suguru once again after you start turning back around. “Keep looking at him while I fuck you stupid, sweetie.”

He eased you down onto him slowly at first, making you keep your eyes glued to the man in the front seat, feeling like filthy scum as you groaned loudly in bliss, feeling yourself be stretched out over Satorus cock.

Suguru's cheeks were red, his eyes bleary with arousal as he locked eyes with you, the car stopping in the middle of traffic. He cursed quietly, chest heaving with the heavy breaths. He watched you slide down on Satoru's cock, mesmerized and unable to look away.

“Sugu- ru-” you whined out, making his cock twitch in his pants, his hand rushing to stroke it on instinct.

Never in a thousand years would he have imagined that seeing his girlfriend take his boyfriend’s cock right in front of him would fill him with pure unfiltered lust instead of raging jealousy. And the fact that you still called out his name? It made him want to stop the car on the side of the road and get in the back seat to show you why you were his, once again.

“Fuck- Suguru, she's so tight.” Satoru's head fell down to the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the pulsating vein under your skin, making you feel lightheaded. “You're so evil for keeping us from each other, y'know? Oh- fuck- She's taking me so well-”

You whined again at the indirect praises, feeling Satoru's pace pick up speed as the car finally started moving again.

“You two are so lucky I'm driving,” Suguru said, the words like venom dripping off his lips, the sound of his belt unbuckling following soon after, “So fucking undisciplined.”

You giggled, crying out immediatelly after from the feeling of Satoru rearranging your guts at a superhuman speed. “’Toru, ‘Toru, ‘Toru- I c-can't, ah- nhhhhgh- FUCK!” The muscles in your legs spasmed as you felt liquid gush out of you and soak Satoru's cock and pants, earning a low, devious chuckle of satisfaction from him.

“You're so fucking dirty, cumming so hard on my cock while your sweet Suguru watches…” He whispers into your ear, making you turn around to look at Suguru again, seeing his hand in his lap stroking his cock as he drove with one hand. “Oh, fuck- He's just as bad as you, it seems.”

“Sugu, I'm-”

“You wanna apologize?” The dark haired man grumbled. “Come over here and suck my cock, honey.”

This car ride was becoming increasingly dangerous and you felt a nagging guilt at how depraved you were, how easily you submitted to the carnal pleasures instead of thinking how Suguru might crash the fucking car because of this.

“Don't worry, baby, I won't crash. We're almost home.” He seemed to have read your thoughts, his voice earnest and sweet, reassuring you before speaking again- “Now get that filthy mouth over here.”

Satoru chuckled, turning you around forcefully and pushing you between the two front seats until your ass was facing him and your face was in Suguru's lap. Your mouth was immediatelly stuffed full of cock, a low groan resounding from deep within Suguru's chest.

“Mhm, fuck-” He felt his heart race, trying his best to look at the road with your lips wrapped snugly around his dick. “Go deeper,” he pushed your head down just as Satoru stuffed your pussy full of himself in the back seat, “Suck my dick like a slut since you want to be one so bad.”

You cried out around his length, feeling it scrape the back of your throat, your jaw tense with the familiar feeling of his girth filling your mouth entirely.

“So filthy,” Satoru huffed, sloppy sounds echoing throughout the cramped space as his cock kept ramming into you, “You couldn't even wait ‘till we got home, huh?”

Tears fell down your cheeks from the onslaught of pleasure and the cock in your mouth that kept you gagging every few seconds. Suguru was holding your hair in a vice-like grip, guiding your movements and never letting you come up for air.

“Your throat is so soft, baby, don't you dare make me pull out.” He moaned, turning the last corner onto your street, stepping on the gas as he pushed your head down, “Shit- We're here.”

He pulled into the garage of your house, letting go of your hair as Satoru pulled his cock out of you.

You were gasping for air, sprawled out over the middle compartment between the two front seats, pussy and jaw aching from being filled with cocks for the entire ride home from both ends.

“Oh my-” you panted, unable to lift yourself as Suguru's fingers tangled with your hair once again, this time in a soothing manner. “I'm so tired.” You whisper, but your break doesn't last long because you're being pulled into the back seat and then out of the car, scooped up and carried inside by Satoru.

“No time for rest, sweetheart, you started this.” He said tauntingly, following Suguru as he unlocked the door.

It didn't take much time for their long legs to take you to the master bedroom, where you were thrown mercilessly onto the bed while the two men towered over you like hungry lions ready to devour their feast.

“I'm- AH!” You yelp as your dress is being tugged off your body so swiftly you don't have time to react.

Suguru is stripping his shirt, an evil smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “We're not done yet, honey.”

Satoru bites the insides of your thighs, his pants and shirt already gone once you look at him, taut muscles and flawless soft skin on display for you to see. It was a beautiful sight, the two of them so worked up over you. The shared depravity between you three felt comfortable, reaffirming. It made you feel less guilty for being so insane as to let this all happen in the first place. The labels and the sick love triangle between the three of you were reduced to nothing but animalistic greed for pleasure and you were ready to drown yourself in that feeling.

“Satoru,” Suguru growls, angrily pulling Satoru's head back by the snow-white strands of his hair, “Stop being a greedy whore, it's my turn.”

Suddenly you're the one watching, seeing the debauchery unfold in front of you. Satoru is on his knees in front of your beautiful boyfriend, defiant eyes flashing up at him and you're so mesmerized at the sheer magnitude of what's unfolding. It has you squirming on the bed, breath caught in your throat as Suguru manhandles the pretty boy in front of him, pushing his cock against his lips until the white-haired menace finally opens his mouth.

You don't even realize you're touching yourself until your legs are shaking and your pussy is throbbing for something to fill it. “Fu-ck-” you whine, “You two are so fucking hot.”

Suguru chuckles, feeling Satoru's squeals of protest against his cock, “Don't worry, darling, I'll get to you in a second.” It's a warning and a promise. “Gotta teach this brat a lesson first.”

Satoru is drooling around Suguru's cock, ice cold eyes staring up at him like he was God incarnated, taking him whole down his throat without gagging once. He didn't have a fucking gag reflex.

“Yes, there you go-” Suguru's head falls back, long hair swaying around his shoulder as his abs tense from the pleasure. “All the way to the b-back.”

You're unable to look away from them, eyes jumping back and forth between them as your fingers struggle to get you over the edge. You whimper helplessly as you watch, craving Suguru's touch to help you finish. It makes you jealous for a split second, so you call out to Suguru, your voice whiny. “Sugu- Please, help me cum-”

He smiles at you and steps toward the bed with his cock still buried into Satoru's throat, “You feeling lonely, baby? I'm sorry…” He says and releases Satoru from his grip, the white haired man gasping for air. “Come sit on my face while you watch Satoru suck my cock.”

He lays on the bed, Satoru climbing between his legs and you follow his instructions reluctantly, pussy above his face as you look at Satoru. You feel shy completely exposed like this, looking directly in the eyes of the man who was taking a part of what you love the most right before you. His eyes were devilish, never leaving yours as he licked a long stripe up Suguru's length, as if taunting you with the fact that he gets a piece of your lover, too.

But as soon as Suguru's tongue started working its magic on your aching pussy, all of that melted away and you were left with nothing but the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. “Oh- fuck-” you yelped and Satoru looked down to where your pussy was leaking all over Suguru's face, his eyes lighting up at the beautiful sight.

He was about to get up, but Suguru's hand pushed his head back down. “Keep going, slut.”

You felt like Suguru was being mean, but Satoru groaned immediatelly after, as if this is exactly the reaction he was looking for, rutting his hips into the bedsheets for any type of friction.

“S-Sugu-” you tried to say but what left your mouth were incoherent babbles as you felt yourself on the brink of orgasm. It was so sinful and so messy and so enjoyable to be in such a tangle like this, to be feeling so much pleasure watching your boyfriend's cock be stuffed down Satoru's throat. The little whine Satoru made when Suguru bucked his hips upward, his throat assaulted by the forceful movement, pushed you over the edge and you damn nearly drowned Suguru.

He groaned, feeling his dick twitch on Satoru's tongue, his seed spilling down the pretty boy's throat as he licked up every last drop of what you gave him. He didn't stop, though, trying his hardest to make you break, letting go of Satoru and holding your hips down so you couldn't move. “S-Sugu- I c-can't! S-Sto- ahh!” You were near tears, which made Satoru feel horrible because you were being punished for something you did together.

“It's okay, sweet, come here…” He leaned down, giving you a tender kiss that clashed with the feeling of Suguru torturing you so mercilessly.

You groaned and cried out into Satoru's mouth until you hit your second orgasm and felt tears spill down your cheek. You could taste Suguru on his tongue, mixed with the same sweetness you tasted on Suguru's when he'd come home late with so many excuses. It made your tears swell up even more, it felt cathartic in a way, but Satoru wiped them away, holding your face until you stopped shaking and Suguru finally let you go.

You pulled away from Satoru, moving over to fall on the bed, unable to stay on your knees with how weak your legs were. You felt like jelly, wobbly and trembling from the intense orgasms you just went through.

“Are you okay, honey?” Your boyfriend asked you, kissing your cheek tenderly as if the state you were in wasn't his doing.

“Y-Yeah-” you finally managed to catch your breath, gazing into Suguru's eyes. “I think you need a towel…” You giggled, fucked out of your mind, as you pointed out the droplets of your mess on his face.

Satoru cleared his throat and threw the towel he just retrieved from the bathroom at Suguru's face. “You know,” he huffed, “I didn't get to cum yet.” His eyes were on Suguru, to which the man rolled his eyes and pulled the ‘whiny slut’ onto the bed next to you.

“Sweetheart can you suck Satoru's cock while I fuck you from behind, please?” And he asked so sweetly, so innocently, that you didn't have the heart to refuse. Even though you'd much rather have had him cum down your throat earlier, him cumming while being buried deep inside of you didn't sound bad either.

You nod, giving him a quick kiss, still able to taste yourself on his tongue. “Yes, baby.” You smile at him and turn to face Satoru, ass up and face between his legs.

“Such a good girl,” he purred behind you, spitting on his cock and rubbing it through your folds before sinking in slowly, groaning out your name. “F-Fuck- so tight for me no matter what huh?”

Your legs were still trembling from everything you were made to endure so far, so you tried to focus on your own task. You looked up at Satoru, who was gazing at you with his slutty half lidded gaze, cock jumping the moment you begin to moan Suguru's name.

“Don't be shy, baby, put him in your mouth.” Your boyfriend encouraged, watching as you took Satoru in your hand, giving the tip of his cock light kisses that had the white haired man in an absolute frenzy.

“P-Please-” he choked out, “Stop teasing me..” And you chuckled, to which he gave you a scornful look. It disappeared the moment you actually took him in your mouth. “Sh- iitt-” His hand tangled in your hair, but never pressing down, only giving you tender encouragement. “Y-Your mouth is so fucking g-good- mhhngh.”

“Thank you, ‘Toru.” you giggled, feeling Suguru twitch inside of you at the sound of your voice calling out his other lover's name. “Come here, sweetie.” You said and Satoru leaned in, his cock still stimulated by your hand, but instead of kissing him as he thought you would, you commanded for him to open his mouth. “Open wide, please.”

He looked at Suguru, confused for a split second before he obeyed and your fingers slipped into his mouth, all the way down his throat. “Oh my- You really don't have a gag reflex- I bet that throat feels heavenly around my Suguru's cock, hmm?”

The depraved, slutty words rolling off your tongue had both of them groaning in pleasure and you smiled to yourself. “P*-pleathe*-” Satoru begged around your fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your hand picked up its pace. “Your mouf plea- nhhhg”

The whiny moans you were so skillfully coaxing out of Satoru made Suguru pick up his pace from behind you, incredibly aroused by the whole display before him.”You're so good, baby, making S'toru moan for us- fuck-”

You pulled your your fingers from pretty boy's throat, stuffing your face full of his cock to muffle your own moans as Suguru's pace kept picking up. It nearly sent Satoru over the edge, his poor cock edged enough for one night, which you realized was Suguru's punishment for his misbehaving and fucking you before he got to.

“Am I allowed to make him cum, sweetie?” You ask Suguru quickly, mouth immediatelly back on Satoru, making him cry out from the intense feeling of your tongue working wonders around his tip.

“Y-Yeah-” your boyfriend could barely talk, pussywhipped completely, slamming into you and making your legs shake once again.

You cried out with Satoru nestled deep in your mouth, gagging as he begged you to just make him cum already. So you sped up your movements, bobbing your head up and down with his cock slamming into the back of your throat and making you gag while Suguru fucked you like a madman from behind.

“I-I'm gonn- cum-” Satoru groaned, “Bab-y stop-” but you didn't want to. You wanted to taste his cum on your tongue as Suguru fills your pussy because it felt heavenly to be used like this and to torture each other endlessly with pleasure.

“She wants you to cum in her throat, Satoru, don't hold back-” A hard slap against your ass made you squeal and you started shaking again, about to cum undone around Suguru's cock.

Satoru's dick was twitching on your tongue, his thighs tensing up under your fingertips as you kept his legs from closing together. He was a mess, groaning both your and Suguru's names over and over again as you sucked every last drop of cum out of him, never letting up your pace.

The sight made Suguru ravenous, his hips slamming against yours as he told you what a good girl you were for taking care of both of them. He pushed you towards Satoru, your body suddenly sandwiched between the two men, feeling their sweaty skin stick to yours with Suguru's cock still ramming into you at full force.

Suguru's lips crashed onto Satoru's, his hand flying up to Satoru's throat, holding him in place while your hand still pumped lazy strokes over his cock.

You cried out right next to his ear as Suguru fucked you, eliciting a sweet groan from both of them. It was messy and you felt like you lost yourself for a moment in that tangle of bodies, close to blacking out once Suguru buried himself so deep inside of you that you were certain your insides have been rearranged.

He was still kissing Satoru when he came inside of you, bringing you over the edge with him and Satoru, too, overstimulated from your hand never letting up the quick jerks on his cock.

You buried your face into the slope of Satorus neck, kissing him and still mewlimg out small cries of pleasure as you slowly came off your peak with Suguru still deep inside of you.

“Fuck, we made a mess…” Suguru chuckled as he looked down at the soaked sheets, your release mixed with Satoru's and Suguru's dripping down your thighs as soon as he pulled out.

“'m not cleaning up, can't move my arms,” you whimpered, Satoru chuckling in your ear as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, his arms hugging you close to him. It felt like heaven to be held so tenderly after all of the strenuous activity, so you surrendered and returned the hug, melting into the warm feeling of his skin.

Suguru left the room for a moment and you heard water running in the bathroom.

“’Toru, are you jealous of me being with Suguru?”

The question seemed to surprise the white haired man, but he shook his head. “It doesn't matter, sweet, he loves both of us equally, he wouldn't lie about that.”

You take in a shaky breath, smelling the familiar scent of his vanilla and cinnamon shampoo still lingering in his hair, mixed with your perfume and Suguru's musky scent. “Yeah, I guess…” you whisper, “It was nice meeting you.”

He nods, “You too, hun.”

“The bath is ready, bring her over here.”

Satoru picked you up like you weighed nothing, carrying you over to the bath and letting you stand on your own two feet gently. He held your hand to help you join Suguru, watching as you settled against Suguru's chest and relaxed completely in the warm water.

You expected him to get in as well, but he was about to get in the shower instead. “Satoru, come here.” You told him, frowning at the thought that he didn't want to relax in the bath with you.

He turned around and saw your hand gesturing for him to get in. “Okay.” He grinned and stepped into the bath, to which you pulled him into you, your fingers immediatelly tangling into his soft white locks.

“You thought you could escape us, huh?” you giggled, content with being pressed snugly between the two men.

He shook his head, lips pouty as he replied, “I thought I'd be intruding.”

You rolled your eyes, “You were balls deep inside of me and Suguru was balls deep down your throat, and now you're intruding?”

Suguru burst into laughter behind you, giving you a peck on the head. “You're always so blunt, baby.”

Satoru melted into your embrace, fingers tangling with yours like the needy little princess that he is. “Fair point…” he muttered, “Maybe I should take you guys out to dinner again sometime…”

You weren't sure whether or not this should be a regular thing. After all, this man was still your boyfriend's mistress. Were you truly ready to share? Yes, one time is fun, but what would become of your relationship in the long run? It doesn't hurt to give it a few more goes, though…

“Yeah, you should…” you decide, running your fingers through his soft white hair, “Or maybe you should take me out since Suguru kept us from each other for so long…”

Suguru grumbled and gave you a light bite on your shoulder as a warning. “Don't you dare.” Satoru and you burst into laughter, realizing that it was Suguru who was the most jealous one out of the three of you.

“You know, that might be a good idea…” Satoru teased, “I have a great car we could try out… A lot more spacious than Suguru's”

“Now you're just being assholes.”

“Awww, are you jealous, baby?” you mock.

“No.”

“Liarrr…”

“It's just unfair.”

“What, that your boyfriend and girlfriend are getting along?”

“Fuck you guys,” he huffed and looked away from the two of you, his cheeks flushed from being made fun of.

“Okay, okay… we'll stop. Don't sulk.” Satoru chuckled and relaxed in your embrace once again.

Suguru wrapped his arms around both of you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was content with how the meeting turned out, even though he wasn't expecting anything less. Both you and Satoru were amazing and there was no doubt in his mind that you would've liked each other.

“So, you wanna stay the night, ‘Toru?” you asked, your fingers drawing small circles into his palm.

“You sure?” He muttered.

“Yeah, the bed is big enough for three.” You told him, tangling your fingers with his. “Besides I'd feel bad sending you home without getting some cuddles in.”

“So sweet,” Suguru muttered into your hair.

“Okay,” the white haired man smiled up at you. “I can stay the night.”

“Suguru will make us pancakes for breakfast.”

“And when did Suguru agree to this?” the man behind you grumbled.

“Just now.” Satoru replies quickly.

“You're unbelievable.”

“Oh, shut up, you know you love us.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then we're gonna get dinner without you.”

“Don't you dare.”

You and Satoru both burst into laughter, making Suguru smile as well. He was truly content with how everything turned out.

You thought you could be, too.

a/n: thank you for reading!

tags: @trishiepo0

[malereadermaniac]

Barrack bunny ~ BNHA guys x Bottom Male Reader

Military AU - Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI Characters: Bakugo, Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, Hawks Top!Characters x Bottom!Reader word count: 4.8k (holy shit thats so long for me) Some pictures of the guys as soldiers is at the bottom to help with visualisation!

In an all men's unit, within which all of the guys worked out constantly and looked the part, you were different

You were evidently gay, something which is thankfully accepted nowadays

But most of the guys took a liking to you despite you out-ly being gay - something still slightly frowned upon in the army

You weren't annoying and you did your job, but you were nice to everyone and would always check in on guys when they looked down

But the thing that your peers noticed the most was the fact that you were the dictionary definition of a barrack bunny

Not that any of them were complaining about it - they were all young men around their 20s which still had hormones and needs

It just became tricky when most of the guys took a liking to you which was further than a sexual one

Katsuki Bakugo

The man was practically made for the military - he follows orders to a tee and sticks to the set routine

Bakugo is serious about his role in the army, even if he is in the lowest rank there is

He takes training seriously, which is very evident when you take a look at his body - he looks like he was sculpted by a god

The blonde's pecs and abs were chiseled as hell and his back was massive just like his arms

The way Katsuki carries himself just exudes confidence - and holy fuck he just looks right with a rifle in his arms

Bakugo had noticed you around, you did stick out like a sore thumb at the end of the day

The blonde really did take a liking to you, despite not really showing it

He would subconsciously look out for you on the field and would blush whenever you helped patch him up

And whenever the explosive man would need to release some steam, you were always there for him

Katsuki had never questioned his sexuality - he'd always thought of himself as straight

But hey, the army brings out parts of men that they didn't know they had

Whenever Katsuki wanted you- no rather he needed you, the blonde would walk over to your bed and knock on the frame three times

A small signal he'd established with you to let you know he needed to feel you around him

You would then tip-toe over to somewhere quiet and go at it like bunnies - just like your nickname suggested

You'd always found Katsuki at his hottest in his uniform, so he made an effort to wear it most of the time when fucking your brains out

He looked so good, maneuvering your body and making you do exactly what he wanted while in uniform

The muscular man also would go fully out when fucking, a dominating and sadistic persona coming out of him - to your utmost of pleasure

Katsuki would make you worship his body toe to head (literally)

The man would make you kiss his boots, make you take them off and kiss his feet before letting you move up all along his body

The blonde would make you choke on his veiny, sweaty dick, his bushy pubes stuffing your nose and limiting the already little oxygen you were receiving

Bakugo loved having power over you, so most of the time he'd let you put in little to no effort while he ruined you

Katsuki covers your body in his own unique marks while he pounds into you

He forces you to kiss him and his body while he drills his dick into your prostate

By the end of the night, you've both came twice and half the barrack is awake - but neither of you could care less

The two of you were like a perfect match, affectionately and sexually - so it made things complicated when Bakugo began wanting you to himself

The built blonde started showing his affection towards you more publicly

Katsuki would also be more brutal during training, shooting glares at his peers which are also frequent visitors of your barracks

And the sex would only get more possessive and more rough as Katsuki's feelings for you strengthened

He wanted you to himself more and more

Izuku Midoriya

If there was another person that didn't really fit in with the other soldiers - it was Izuku

He was more meek and less hard-core about the army than his peers

However on the training grounds, it became evident that Izuku belonged in the army

The man was ruthless, he had his mind set on the end goal and we would reach it

His body was incredible, built perfectly - he wasn't incredibly muscular but he most definitely wasn't unfit

Midoriya and you became friends the first day of your mandatory service, and he immediately took a liking to you

The green-haired man found you caring and calming - he could always be relaxed around you

Being reckless on the training grounds meant the man was always in need of bandages

And Izuku loved how careful and dotting you were whenever you patched him up

The meek man, of course, knew about your reputation as the unit's barrack bunny, but he couldn't care less - it just meant he had more reason to like you

Whenever Izuku craved your touch, craved your body, he would tiptoe to your bed and scratch your head, ruffling your hair for a hot minuet before making hid way to the disabled bathroom

No-one in your unit was disabled, so that poor bathroom was your go-to spot for sinful activities

Midoriya loved it when you rode him, he loved holding your waist with his rough, scared hands and just admire your the contrast between your bodies

The muscular man also wasn't small whatsoever, the small bulge in your abdomen every time you sank on his veiny cock was proof of that

You loved listening to Izuku try to hold in his moans, small whimpers escaping his throat through his gritted teeth, his face scrunched up as he struggles not to cum while holding in his noises

The sound of your ass slapping against Izuku's muscular thighs would echo throughout the bathroom along with your moans - which you never bothered to hold in, half the barracks had heard them before at their own hands

Izuku would kiss you constantly, your lips plump from how long the man makes out with you for - and when he isn't kissing you, he's marking your neck with his own light pink lovebites

And due to Izuku's fit nature, he can last for a long time

Your poor self is fully spent, having came 3 times by the time Izuku finally shoots his boiling hot load inside of you

What pushes Izuku over the edge of lust to love is the many moments you two have shared after the green-haired hunk has re-arranged your guts

Your heavy breathing harmonising with his as you comfortably lay your naked body on Izuku's

Midoriya likes to run his rough fingers up and down your back, the two of you Chat about almost anything during that time - he's never been so close with someone before

When Izuku comes to terms with the fact that he likes you, he starts to be more possessive of you - he calls out his peers when they talk badly about you and glares at guys who say they need a piece of you

But mostly, Izuku's sex drive increases ten fold - he fucks you day and night, at the training grounds or even your own bed with the others around

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto was ranked just slightly above the others - of course due to his efforts in the army, but mainly due to his father making a generous donation

He still slept in the same barracks and would only be in charge of your unit if absolutely no other superior was on the field

The others liked Shoto, he didn't get much special treatment and he still put in a lot of work - he would train like a maniac

The stoic man would spend most of his free time in the gym rather than anywhere else

Shoto knew about you, but he'd never really been interested in you

He'd heard his peers talk about how good you were and how charming you were, but the half n' half man was never really interested

That was until he really paid attention to you on the field

You caught his eye and he couldn't wrap his head around 'how someone could look so good on the field while also doing so well'

Shoto really admired your dedication to your role - and it really did help that you were fucking drop dead gorgeous

The tall soldier had decided he wanted to see why everyone was so smitten over you

So the two of you started talking quite a lot; to the point where Shoto would subconsciously look for you first in a new room

Another perk that came with his father's donation was that Shoto had a private bathroom - a room which the two of you became very familiar with

Shoto would even bother being sneaky about it, the man's ego would actually get inflated when he would ask you in front of everyone to go fuck

"(Y/n), join me in my ensuite?" That's all the man would say and you're already perking up and following behind the tall soldier

For a sheltered rich boy, Shoto can sure get down and dirty with you

He strips down fully and likes to watch you stare at his slim-toned body, a blush creeping on your face as blood rushes to your dick

If there's one thing Shoto likes to always do with you it's watch you squirm against him as he fingers you ruthlessly

The toned man puts his slim, long fingers to good use, sitting you naked on his lap - your skin against his - as he abuses your prostate constantly

Shoto fucking loves watching you squirm and try to hump against his dick while he curls his fingers against your gummy walls

The man gets off to your whimpers too much for his own good

And by the time he re-arranges you to impale you on his dick, you're already stretched out enough to only feel the pleasure of Shoto's skinny, veiny 8 incher

Shoto's go-to is having you lay on the closed toilet while he towers his thin, muscular body above you - his dick plowing into you while he hand wraps around your throat gently

Your moans fill his ensuite immediately, accompanied by Shoto's own moans and groans at full volume - the privacy of his ensuite coming in clutch, as the two of you like to get noisy

The man holds you in place gently by your throat, his thumb caressing your cheek as he wipes away the tears his dick is forcing out of you

Shoto also loves to tease your dick, wanking you off while he pounds his cock deep inside of you - teasing your dickhead from time to time, his moaning chuckles echoing in the room as he watches you writhe in overstimulation

Once Shoto discovers that he has feelings for you, his ego becomes a real problem

The two-tone haired man wants everyone to know that you belong to him - whether you actually do or don't

Shoto wraps his arm around your waist and makes you sit on his lap whenever the unit is hanging out during free time

Or he'll fully tell other guys to fuck off of they're with you

He also fucking lives off of the looks other guys give him when he does things like that

Shoto just can't help it, he needs you to be his

Eijiro Kirishima

The redhead exudes masculinity - he really was made for the army

Kirishima is one of the most well-liked of your unit, almost second to you

The man is extroverted and helps out his peers when the need it, but best of all, he looks really fucking good in camo

Eijiro immediately took notice of you, he was one of the first to talk to you and eventually get with you

The redhead was quite fond of you, he liked how you cared about your role but you weren't too hard-core

You really liked Eijiro too, he didn't go to the gym much, despite staying so muscular somehow

He was very well built, his back and arms looking perfect 24/7

It was almost impossible for you two not to have sex at some point

It just so happened that the aforementioned point in time was very early

Kirishima also fucks like a beast - while also looking like a sex-god as he plows your brains out

The redhead likes to pull you to the side whenever he's horny and he drags you to a place where he can get it on with you

Kiri also knows how horny you get whenever he wears his tank top, so he most definitely wears it every time you two get it on

His arms and back just look so good in it, and he likes to watch you physically get turned on by his body - it seriously inflates his ego

Ejiro also fucking loves to dominate you - it's a common trend amongst military men

The redhead loves to force your body into positions where he holds all of the power

Full Nelson is his favourite by far, Eijiro loves showing off his strength by holding you up, forcing your body down on his thick cock with such ease

The muscular soldier also can't deny his affinity for being worshiped

Especially his smell, Kirishima gets so turned on when he makes you smell his sweaty body after training all day

He makes you sniff his musky balls and dick before sucking him off, forcing your nose into his forest of pubes for minutes at a time just forcing you to inhale his scent

Kirishima also likes making you ride him, watching you struggle to take his thick, veiny cock while you moan and whimper, dick twitching pathetically

Eijiro particularly likes to take control once you get into a rhythm and give your system a shock with a new pace, a rough pace

It then that Eijiro grabs your hair tightly and forces your head into his arm pit while he fucks up into your abused hole

Your head woozy from the muscular soldiers musky sweat and your body trembling from his cock plowing into your poor prostate

The man also doesn't keep quiet, so your whole barrack can hear Kirishima as he cums deep inside of you, claiming you as his own for just that little moment in time

However, once the Beast of a man has had his fill, he's incredible at aftercare

Kirishima goes out of his way to clean you up to a tee and then let's you rest on his warm, muscular body while he plays with your hair

Eijiro really enjoys the moments after sex, sometimes even more than the sex itself - the first time he thought time it immediately clicked that he liked you

Initially, Kiri is subtle about the fact that he likes you

He might be more physically affectionate when around other people

Or he may be more careful with you in bed even though you insist you can take more

However, once other guys start to show interest in you in more possessive ways, Kirishima feels the need to match their level

So his arm is around your waist whenever the redhead can get it there

And if any other soldier tries to make a subtle move on you, Kirishima finds that the best deterrent is to awkwardly call out their behaviour

"Are you trying to flirt with, (y/n)? You think you have a chance?" In the most sincerely confused tone was Kiri's go-to and it sure did work

Sero Hanta

Sero was another one of the more social soldiers

He did his job when he had to, but an opportunity to slack was never not taken

The two of you were friends before anything happened between the two of you

You would only hangout with each other, Chat and play shitty games - like normal friends

He knew you were a barrack bunny and he couldn't give less of a fuck, he would call out anyone bad mouthing you and would say "that's a slay from you though" when you would tell him about a recent fuck of yours

The two of you were nothing more than close friends, you two weren't afraid to shoe physical affection

So one time when you were sat in Sero's lap facing him, most people would of thought something was going on there - but there wasn't, not yet at least

It was when you fell asleep that the problem began

It was late at night after a huge training day, so while the other members of your unit played a game of cards, you were sleeping like you'd never slept before in Sero's lap

But once everyone else had gotten tired and gone to bed, you and Sero remained on the floor - your unconscious body snuggling into Sero's

Unfortunately for Sero, you move a LOT in your sleep, resulting in the poor man popping a boner

Which would just not go away! Mainly due to your unconscious and accidental grinding against his dick

So, as Sero profusely blushed and tried to move you off of him, you woke up

And you felt Sero's raging boner pushing against your ass

What happened afterwards was a blur but it went along the lines of you two rushing into the bathroom and going at it

Sero's very gentle with you - despite his slim-toned build

The man focuses on your pleasure, your moans and whines egging him on as he fucks up into you while playing with your nipples

The two of you don't fuck very often, but when you do it's earth-shattering and comfortable at the same time

It also isn't awkward to stay friends even though you two share such intimate moments, the real problem arises when Sero's platonic and sexual feelings for you become slightly romantic

His behaviour barely changes, but when you two are doing your usual clingy friendship activities, the toned soldier holds onto you just a little tighter

He also becomes obviously upset when you're hanging out with someone else

And during sex, Sero hugs you and kisses you while softly fucking into you - marking your neck with soft hickeys

He softens even more than usual when he starts to like you romantically - it's a nice change, contrasting your other peers who absolutely demolish you

Denki Kaminari

Unlike most other soldiers in your unit, Denki slacks at any given moment - even if he knows he'll get in shit for it

He's such a dumb yet lovable idiot, his shocked and scared expression slightly charming when he's getting an earful for dozing off on lookout

He's one of the more hormonal soldiers to say the least - and it doesn't help that he has quite the perverted side to him

So when Kaminari heard that your hobbies include getting fucked by every other member of your unit, he knew he needed to get a piece of you

The two of you were friendly to begin with, but the fact that you had a soft spot for goofy men who look fucking hot in uniform really helped speed your relationship along

All it took was for Denki to accidentally blurt out that he thought you were ridiculously attractive and that he didn't mind getting shouted at by superiors of it meant he got to sneak around with you - and with that you were ready to pretty much jump on his dick

If there's one thing Denki likes to do with you it's make out

The soldier will drop all his duties and sneak around the superiors just to hide away with you and hold you in his lap while the two of you kiss messily for half an hour - Denki dry humping his clothed crotch up into the smooth curve of your ass

The blonde looks so, so good in uniform, his white tanktop highlighting his slim, muscular body while the camo cargoes just suit him so well

He doesn't like to be subtle about the fact that you and him fuck, so whenever it's just your unit with no superiors, he likes to rub it in the others faces that you and him are heading off to a supply shed

And holy shit is Kaminari good at what he does

After making out for God knows how long, the man will move you into his arms, Denki standing up while his tongue is still playing with yours

The blonde likes to show off how strong he is - despite being a slacker, he does train a lot

Denki holds you in his arms, your legs around his waist while he one handedly unbuckles his cargos and pulls yours down the curve of your ass

Kaminari certainly shows off his strength when he moves you up and down on his veiny dick with such ease, hitting your prostate with every thrust while you hold onto his broad shoulders tightly

Being kind of a perv, the blonde fucking loves watching you drool and blush from the size of his dick, your fists tightening to hold Kaminari closer and your eyes being forced to look up from the pressure and pleasure his dick was forcing onto your ass

It's only when your chief loudly bangs on the door of the shed that you're fucking in that Kaminari takes his eyes off of your fucked out face and slows his pace down

"Kaminari! What's taking you so long?" The chief shouts

Denki quickly moves his hand to your mouth, his rough palm keeping all of your moans from escaping

"S-SORRY SIR! C-CUUUMING NOW!" The blonde shouts as his pace quickens, your walls clenching against Kaminari's thick dick so tightly that he actually starts cumming

You can hear your superior walk away faintly, the sound of his steps mainly blocked by Denki's whimpering and grunting in your ear as his cum seeps out of your cock-filled hole

"Sorry I couldn't help myself... You're just toooo warm and good~"

Now while Denki may be very sex-brained, he struggles to separate sex from romance - so he falls for you pretty quickly

He's one of the only members of your unit to loudly state that they like you

Most of his peers make fun of him for saying things like

"I can't wait to leave here and date, (y/n)..."

Your peers telling the blonde that you would never settle for him in a million years

But Denki couldn't care less about what they say - he's ups his game by being super sappy and clingy around you, but you don't mind exactly; you can't deny that you like the attention

The rest of your barrack is fucking fuming that Denki gets to do shit like that with you, so most of them follow suit and try to one-up each other - all thanks to Denki

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Keigo is one of the older members of your unit - he's a 30 year old surrounded by mainly 24-26 year olds

But he's got a young spirit, so he fits in exceptionally well

And fucking hell does he fit into the army well as well - he's another one of the guys which was made for the military

The blonde constantly works out and takes his role very seriously - his body reflects that on so many levels

His arms and his back are insane, and this legs are so built it's crazy

Keigo had noticed you immediately, the man knew he was bi and couldn't turn down releasing some stress so the two of you were on each other almost straight away

Being older, Keigo has so much more experience, so you've always liked being with him - whether you two were spending time together or he was fucking the daylights out of you

The blonde soldier was charismatic and affectionate but not in an over the top way - which got you riled up all the more

He would have one of his veiny hands on your waist or shoulders all the time, he'd smirk at you while looking down into your eyes with his arms crossed - the man was incredibly attractive to say the least

When hanging out with other members of your unit, Keigo loves to exert dominance by having you on his lap, an arm around you waist and his head resting on your shoulder - smugly grinning when the others give him a jealous glare

And when he wants to let you know he wants you cumming on his dick, all Keigo does is gently grind into you - but if you're already in bed, the tall blonde bend over you and kiss your neck slowly

Keigo would then leave to the bathroom, chuckling to himself when he hears your hurried footsteps behind him

The man fucks like an animal in heat

He likes to strip you naked but keep himself fully clothed in his casual uniform, bending you over on the ground as he plays with your exposed hole

"So fucking tight, even with all the dick you take, sweetheart" Keigo compliments you as he smacks your ass, hard

He likes to push on the small of your back as he lines his hard, veiny, uncut dick with your entrance - forcing your back to arch perfectly for him

Keigo likes to start slow with you, sinking his cock all the way inside of your tight walls and immediately starting to thrust into you slowly

Your breathy moans echo in the bathroom while Hawks' rugged moans grace your ears

The muscular blonde then likes to pick up the pace, fucking you rougher and harder by the second until your a drooling, moaning mess

He also moans really loudly, his masculine groans filling your ears along with sadistic chuckles and laughs from the immense pleasure Keigo is feeling from your tight ass and watching you look so whorish

He fucks you into the ground, his thick dick splitting you open while your dick dangles between your legs, leaking precum constantly

As Keigo starts to lose himself in the pleasure of fucking you, he moves his bare foot onto your head, pushing your head harder against the ground as his body shifts to get his dick into you deeper

The blonde laughs and moans as his veiny hands grip onto your waist, pulling you hard onto his dick

The usual slapping sound of sex is muffled by Keigo's cargoes and his tanktop is now see-through as its drenched in his sweat

The older man's pace speeds up even more when he cam feel you tighten, your moans raising in pitch as your dick twitches in pleasure

By the time your loud, slutty moans are registered by Keigo, he's balls deep in your ass shooting his hot, thick cum deep inside of you - rutting his hips against your ass, therefore rubbing his tip even more into your prostate, overstimulating you just enough so that it's still pleasurable

Once the blonde soldier pulls out of you with the wet slurp of his cum-covered dick, Keigo likes to watch his thick cum drip down your thighs and onto the floor

He admires his work for a bit and then cleans you up

Keigo is extremely good at aftercare - even military men need to be taken care of!

The two of you lay on each other and tiredly chat about life - during this, Keigo likes to roll his fingers over your body, admiring you

He never thought he'd fall for you - Keigo always saw himself as above the other, more mature, he thought he could handle a no-strings relationship

But seeing you with others, knowing that other men get to experience the heaven that is being around you and being inside of you - it really pisses Keigo off

The man, just like most of the other members of your unit has fallen for the barrack bunny - he becomes slightly more possessive than he already was

But again you don't mind, it may make you seem like a bad person, but the attention is a nice bonus on top of the good dicking down you get everyday

A couple bonus pics to help visualisation ^_^

Art Credit: KADEART (Hawks) - couldn't find artistis for the other 2

[swappermanent]

Laying the Foundation

Owning a general contracting firm isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it does have its perks. And by perks, I mostly mean the eye candy. Whether it’s a sweaty crew under the summer sun or a client’s husband who catches my attention during a site visit, there’s enough visual appeal to keep my day interesting.

I’m glad I can admit that now. For the first 40-something years of my life, I refused to acknowledge the part of me that liked men. It wasn’t just denial—it was an ironclad, church-fed certainty that I was the straightest man alive. I had the life to prove it too: a wife, two great kids, and a job that kept me too busy to dwell on feelings I wasn’t ready to confront.

But five years ago, I couldn’t lie anymore—at least not to myself or my wife. The realization hit me like a freight train one afternoon as I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and it scared the hell out of me. I’ll spare you the gory details of how I came out to her; it was messy, emotional, and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But if you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear how kind she was about it.

We got divorced. Not because she hated me—far from it—but because she deserved better. Someone who could love her fully, the way she’d loved me. She was understanding, even supportive, but understandably, she wanted a fresh start. She moved a few states away, which meant our boys, Elias and Remy, followed. They were in college by then, so it wasn’t like they needed me every day, but still—it stung not to see them as often.

Now, I only saw them on the breaks they got from school. Holidays, mostly. Elias was 22 and just starting to figure out his life, and Remy, at 19, was busy living his best college experience. They were good kids, and they didn’t resent me for coming out. At least, I didn’t think they did. But I could tell there were things they didn’t say, questions they didn’t ask. I tried not to push.

In the years since my divorce, I hadn’t exactly been a Casanova. You’d think that, as a newly single gay man, I’d dive headfirst into the wild world of dating apps and endless hookups. But it hadn’t played out that way. I didn’t know where to start, honestly. Bars felt too young for me, apps were overwhelming, and after decades of repressing this part of myself, I felt like I didn’t even know the rules.

And so, I stayed busy. Running my business. Keeping in touch with the boys. Pretending I wasn’t lonely. Pretending I wasn’t deeply, madly crushing on Tomas.

Tomas was one of my best guys—a foreman who had worked for me for almost six years. Early thirties, 6’1”, with the kind of lean, sculpted build that made work boots and a tool belt look like runway fashion. Tomas had short-cropped black hair, caramel skin that seemed to glow in the sun, and a confident swagger that made my heart skip a beat every time he walked past me.

He was also, without a doubt, the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I wasn’t sure if it was his deep, musical laugh, the way his smile seemed to light up an entire room, or the sharp intelligence he brought to every project. Whatever it was, I was hooked. Hooked in a way that made my chest ache and my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t.

I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. I was his boss, for starters. And besides, for all I knew, he was straight and happily taken. But every time I saw him in the field, bending over to check a level or cracking a joke with the guys, I couldn’t help but fantasize. About what it would be like to pull him close, to feel his strength, to hear him say my name in a way that wasn’t professional.

I tried to keep my distance. Tried to focus on the work, on the business, on anything but the growing knot of desire that had taken up permanent residence in my chest. But Tomas was always there. Always just a few feet away, making me laugh, making me blush, making me feel things I hadn’t let myself feel in years.

I didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was anything to do about it. But one thing was for sure: I couldn’t take my mind off him.

---

The worst part about my unrequited crush on Tomas was the fact that I knew he was gay. I hadn’t guessed or pieced it together from subtle clues—no, I knew. I’d stumbled across his Grindr profile late one night while I was lying in bed, half-torturing myself by scrolling through profiles I had no intention of messaging.

Seeing his photo there had been like a punch to the gut. He looked incredible, of course—shirtless, smoldering, his chest lightly dusted with hair. I had stared at the profile for longer than I should have, memorizing the details: 33 years old, "masc4masc," and then the words that dashed any wild hopes I might have been clinging to: Please no guys over 30.

I closed the app immediately, my face burning with embarrassment even though no one else was there to see it. For days afterward, I kept replaying those words in my head. No guys over 30. Meanwhile, I was 50. Twenty years his senior, his boss, and, apparently, the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

After that, I resigned myself to suffering in silence. I’d accepted that my feelings for Tomas weren’t going anywhere and that I’d just have to live with it. It wasn’t like I could quit my job or fire him—he was too damn good at what he did, and I needed him on my team. So I kept my head down and my feelings buried, figuring that was the best I could do.

That is, until Miguel came along.

Miguel was the newest addition to the team, just 21 years old and fresh out of trade school. He was the youngest guy I’d ever hired, but he came with glowing recommendations, and within a week of working with him, it was clear they hadn’t been exaggerated. Miguel was a dynamo—hardworking, quick to learn, and always eager to take on more responsibility. He had an upbeat attitude that set him apart from the rest of the crew, and he never let the tougher, more grizzled guys intimidate him.

But while Miguel’s work ethic was impeccable, his looks were something else entirely. The kid was gorgeous. A fuckboy face if I’d ever seen one, with sharp cheekbones, thick lashes, a sexy dusting of a beard, and a jawline that could cut glass. His hair was a messy mop of jet-black curls, and his dark brown eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that could make you question all your good decisions.

Even at his young age, Miguel had this natural charisma that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He wasn’t trying to be sexy—he just was. Whether it was the way he laughed or the easy confidence in his stride, you could tell he had everyone swooning at his feet. And that included Tomas.

I wasn’t blind. I saw the way Tomas’s eyes lingered on Miguel during lunch breaks or how he found excuses to talk to him on the job. At first, I thought it might just be professional—Tomas mentoring the new guy, making sure he felt welcome. But it didn’t take long to realize there was more to it than that. Tomas was interested in Miguel. You could see it in the way he stood just a little too close or laughed a little too hard at Miguel’s jokes.

The funny thing was, Miguel didn’t seem to notice his effect on everyone else. Despite his looks and charm, he had this air of innocence about him, like he didn’t quite realize the power he had. He worked hard, showed up early, and went home late, never sticking around for beers or banter with the guys. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face.

Watching the dynamic between Tomas and Miguel unfold was like a slow kind of torture. On the one hand, I wanted Tomas to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. On the other hand, the idea of him falling for someone so much younger, so effortlessly magnetic, made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not toward Miguel, exactly—he hadn’t done anything wrong—but at the reminder of what I couldn’t have.

---

A few months into Miguel working with us, I reached my breaking point. Watching Tomas flirt with him day after day, while Miguel remained blissfully unaware, was driving me insane. Tomas’s lingering glances, the playful shoulder taps, the overly friendly banter—it was everything I’d fantasized about, happening right in front of me, but directed at someone else. Someone younger. Someone who didn’t even notice.

Damn it. Why couldn’t that be me?

I had to do something. Anything. The jealousy was eating me alive, and the hopelessness of my situation was unbearable. So, in a moment of desperation, I decided to use something unconventional. Something I’d never planned to use at all.

A few years ago, I’d taken a trip to South America—a solo getaway to clear my head after the divorce. While exploring a small town nestled in the Andes, I’d stumbled upon an old shop filled with trinkets, charms, and artifacts that seemed plucked from legend. One item caught my eye: a smooth, jet-black stone about the size of a silver dollar, etched with intricate carvings that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long. The shopkeeper had insisted it was a swapping stone, a relic capable of exchanging bodies between two willing participants.

At the time, I’d bought it as a novelty. A conversation piece. But now, staring at it on my nightstand, an idea took root in my mind—an idea so reckless and audacious that I couldn’t believe I was considering it.

The next morning, I pulled Miguel aside during a coffee break. He looked surprised but didn’t question it, following me into my office.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, plopping down into the chair opposite me with his usual relaxed energy.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Miguel, I’ve been watching you these past few months, and I’ve got to say—you’ve been doing a hell of a job. The crew loves you, and you’ve been busting your ass out there.”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “Thanks, but I’m just doing my part.”

I nodded, then leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. “Look, I know how hard this kind of work is. It’s physically demanding, and you’ve been carrying a lot of weight for someone so young. So I wanted to offer you something.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offer me what?”

I pulled the stone out of my desk drawer and set it between us. “A swap.”

Miguel tilted his head, his confusion evident. “A swap?”

“Yes. A swap. With me.” I gestured toward the stone. “This… is a bit of a long story, but let’s just say it’s not an ordinary rock. It has the power to let us trade places—temporarily, of course. I’d take your body, and you’d take mine.”

Miguel stared at me, silent for a long moment, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Boss, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m serious.” I pushed the stone closer to him. “Think about it. You’re out there every day breaking your back, while I’m in here taking calls and pushing paperwork. If we swap, you’d get to enjoy the perks of being the boss—shorter hours, no manual labor. You could take my car, my house, my money. Do whatever you want for a while.”

His ears perked up at that. “Whatever I want?”

I chuckled. “Whatever you want. Look, I may be in my fifties, but I’m still in good shape, and I’ve got the resources to make it worth your while. You could have some fun. Live it up.”

Miguel leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Okay, but what’s in it for you? Why would you want to swap with me?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something that didn’t make me sound like a crazy old man. “Honestly? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I want to understand it better. Really get a feel for what it’s like to be on the ground again.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“And…” I added, with a sheepish grin, “maybe I want to relive my youth a bit. See what it’s like to be in my twenties again. Humor an old man, will you?”

That got him. He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else.”

“So, what do you say?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Miguel studied the stone, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. Then he looked back at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re serious, boss, then yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

Little did he know, my motivations had nothing to do with reliving my youth or gaining a new perspective. My eyes were set firmly on Tomas,

We both stood in my office, the stone resting between us on the desk. Miguel seemed skeptical but game, his trademark grin lighting up his face. I couldn’t help but marvel at his confidence—effortless, natural, the kind that came with being young and having the world at your feet.

“So, what’s the magic phrase, boss?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

“It’s in Spanish,” I said, picking up the stone and holding it out to him. “I did get it in Chile, after all. We both have to hold it and say, ‘Quiero cambiar.’ It means, ‘I want to swap.’ Simple enough, right?”

Miguel gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement, then shrugged. “Alright, boss. Let’s see this thing work.”

He wrapped his calloused hand around one side of the stone, and I gripped the other. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then I glanced at him, at the youthful energy in his face and the opportunity shimmering in his eyes, and I knew there was no turning back.

We spoke the words together: “Quiero cambiar.”

The moment the last syllable left my lips, I felt it. A strange warmth radiated from the stone, seeping into my palm and spreading up my arm like a current. My back arched involuntarily, and a sensation like liquid sunlight flooded my chest, pulling me out of myself. It wasn’t painful, but it was overwhelming—intense, euphoric, like every nerve in my body was alight.

Across from me, Miguel was going through the same thing. His head tilted back, his body trembling as the same warm glow overtook him. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, guttural moan. We both stumbled a step back, clutching at the air, though there wasn’t anything visible leaving our bodies—just the overwhelming sense of movement.

And then it stopped. Like flipping a switch, the warmth vanished, leaving me standing there, panting, in Miguel’s body.

The first thing I noticed was how much lighter I felt. My limbs moved easily, like I could leap ten feet in the air if I tried. My skin was smooth, my shoulders lean but sturdy. I raised a hand to my cheek, running my fingers along the softer, smoother surface, and then down to my abs—firm and defined, cobblestones under my touch. It was like my body had been built in a dream.

Miguel, now in my body, flexed one of my arms experimentally. “Damn, boss,” he said with a laugh, staring at my bicep, which was massive and veined from years of heavy lifting. “I don’t know if my body’s really any better than yours.”

He turned to the small mirror on the wall, lifting my shirt and giving my old body’s abs a quick once-over. “You’ve been holding out on me, man! If I looked like this at 50, I’d be showing it off all the time.”

I let out a nervous laugh, still getting used to the sound of Miguel’s voice coming out of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” I said, my fingers grazing over my new, perfectly sculpted abs. “This feels like a serious upgrade.”

Miguel smirked, striking a mock pose and letting out a low whistle. “You’re not wrong. Your body’s hot as hell now. Don’t break too many hearts, alright?”

I grinned, I had quite the opposite in mind.

[st4rbwrry]

━━ 𝑘𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 .ᐟ satoru + getou.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.9k. fem chubby reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded, threesome but getou’s our boyfie so boyfriend’s best friend trope!, anal + vaginal penetration, oral [ f ], handjob, a few lil gay moments teehee, getou is kinda insecure, satoru takes most of the lead, spitting, choking, check ins, impact play, praising, condom use, cockwarming, creampie, potential polyamory?, minors aren’t welcomed!

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; dedicated to my bestie bc she harassed me about a getou + gojo fic since i never continued impure :/ <3 @thecoochiefairy

their postures are statue-like once you step foot out of the bathroom, both men eyeing you from head to toe, getou instantly standing to his feet with clammy hands he rested on his hips. satoru remained seated, legs spread as he groaned and pulled at his soft snow hair. they were lost for words. while they were busy finding a bar to grab a drink at the mall, you wandered off in search of a lingerie set, finding a simple pearl white babydoll, sheer mesh bodice, an open flyaway back, and matching panty set. it made you feel pretty, so you wore it for them.

their silence made your heart race nervously, playing with the fabric as your eyes flicker between the two faces, waiting for a response.

"you like it?" your voice is quiet as a mouse.

"i love it," they say in unison. getou blinks, forgetting he was here, honestly.

"you're fuckin' gorgeous, baby," satoru finally stands, being the first one to walk towards you, cupping the side of your face in his palm. you grow hot immediately. "stunning."

even though you've never had the slightest sexual encounter with satoru, the way he had your mind running wild with imagination was near insanity. of course, it was wrong to think of another man while clearly in a committed relationship. but, it was impossible when he was always around you. making jokes here and there about clearly wanting to fuck you. the infatuation was clear as day. you hated your attraction to him. that's why you had to do this, why you wanted it. both of them at once. your feelings were mutual towards them equally, and the sexual tension would never ease unless this happened. plus, it was your birthday. and as your gift, you asked getou for this one thing. your puppy dog eyes making him unable to object.

"give me your hands," you hold out both of yours, getou swallowing and coming forward to gently clasp your small hand, satoru doing the same before you smile and turn, the men stumbling behind you with their eyes on your ass, guiding them towards the bedroom.

a rush of confidence sparks through you now. you've been wanting this for so long, so it's only right that you show them. closing the door behind them, they stare ahead, looking down to see your fingers delicately skid across their abdomens, lifting their shirts and moaning at the abs on both of their bodies. they were toned, buff in the arms but nothing steroid-like. deeply cut v-lines and slim waists. you nearly drool from the feel, desperate to clutch their waists as they fucked you hard without a care.

"baby," it's clear you're referring to getou by the purr in your voice, tits pressed firmly against his side as he looks down at you with a clench of his jaw.

"mhm?" is how he responds, trying his best to remain complacent.

"take control," you bat your lashes. "it's your pussy before his."

getou groans, satoru's grin is sadistic, finding himself clasping your wrist, taking your attention from your boyfriend and burning his eyes in your own, tugging you near him. he caresses your face admirably, humming.

"aren't you obedient," satoru's palm slaps against the side of your cheek as he chuckles, and to getou's point of view, it's absurdly violent. you've never felt this spark before, the action making your heart thump with excitement. the look on your boyfriend's face was pure anger, that deadpanned expression only meaning that he was ready to snap. satoru tries to do it again, but is stopped as soon as getou catches his wrist forcefully.

"are you asking to die?" getou seethes, satoru only raising a brow, no remorse.

"you're really blind, huh?" satoru laughs, side-eyeing you. "she likes it. don't tell me your sex life is that dull."

getou inhales, releasing his wrist once you touch the side of his face reassuringly, smiling hazily. "i like it, it's okay."

he's stuck. not sure how to respond nor react. there's so much more he has to know about you. teach himself about. even though it's only been four months into your relationship, he feels like a stranger, uneducated about your sexual desires. now he's concerned if he pleasures you enough or not. maybe this was a lesson. maybe he should let satoru do most of the work and observe while still being present. watch your reactions to things he says or does that rile you up. there was nothing wrong with being taught.

"tell me what you want," getou clenches his jaw, grabbing the back of your head and tugging softly. getou was extremely soft and caring during sex, and although you were fond of it, sometimes you wanted him to be the opposite. "i'll give you anything. just say it."

warmth fills your chest, so entranced by his sweetness. your eyes lock with satoru's, "wanna ride his face."

satoru tongues his inner cheek, looking you up and down once more. " 'course you do."

getou has his eyes on you the entire time, those big eyes of yours wide with anticipation. "can i?”

"don't ask me with that innocent tone. you're anything but," getou grunts, taking you back by his side possessively. "come sit on me."

you follow like a lost puppy, getou taking his seat on the middle of the bed, one leg propped up as you crawl on your hands and knees to him, your face in his hands he caressed gently with his thumbs, kissing you and admiring you a while longer. satoru stands behind you, tilting his head to the side to capture a picture of the cute set on your body, his hands on your ass he brings back to rub the outline of his jean-clad cock against, groaning.

"fuck, you're really soft," his hand gropes your ass hard and it makes you whine, getou watching as you bite your lip and brush back against satoru who's dry humping you through the mesh thong you wore. "my dick is so fuckin' hard right now."

you swear your clits pulsating like a goddamn vibrator, moaning into getou's mouth after he kisses you, his eyes dark and pointed viciously in satoru's way, shoving his tongue in your mouth, barely paying you attention. he's watching satoru, making sure he takes care of you, doesn't hurt you. because if he did, he'd have to hurt him. satoru chuckles from the quiet obvious threat, molding your flesh in his rough palms. you're arching your back like a cat, panting in your boyfriend's mouth who's aware of your body sensitivity. the smallest touches leaving you feral. a cool breeze of air hits your soaked core as satoru pulls your panties to your knees, raising them so they're off fully, needing access to every region.

"fuck, that's a nice ass pussy," satoru grins, knitting his dark brows together, crystal blue eyes darting between getou and your weeping cunt. you yelp when two of his fingers brush over your clit, sliding it up to your core he taps a few times and hums. then he's bringing his fingers to his nose, liking the smell before he's sucking them off. "damn, this really all yours?"

getou rolls his eyes after satoru whistles, not waiting for him to say anything, which he doesn't, blocking him out anyways. it's all about you. he wants you and he's gonna stay focused on that. he's lowering to his knees on the ground, positioning your thighs so they're spread wider, barely preparing you before he's literally kissing at your cunt with tongue, like full on making out with it. you shudder instantly, mouth dropping and gripping at getou's thigh as satoru grunts and slurps up your juices, thrusting those same fingers into you. your eyes widen partially when his tongue trails up to your puckering hole, spitting, then kissing it up, bobbing his head up and down the entirety of you.

"ooo, my god. . ." you gasp, grinding back against his face, blindly tugging at the waistband of getou's jeans, getou studying you as your face turns in ecstasy, fumbling with your hands as you pull out his cock, whimpering as you spit into your small hand before wrapping it around to pump. getou clenches his jaw, placing his hand over yours to stoke it together, his bubblegum lips pouty as he kisses you hard, swallowing your moans.

"like fuckin' candy," satoru kisses your clit hard, lips wet before he's sucking on it hard, tongue moving everywhere, skidding over your thighs as he laps you up with a deep ‘fuck’, jaw moving side to side and his hand spanking your ass slow like he's drunk, the impact hard. it's a pattern, his spews of fuck become monotonous the more he eats at it.

fuck. spank, then moved his mouth. fuck. spank, then applies more pressure with his tongue. fuck. spanks you ten times harder, then growls. it was driving you mad, unable to stop shifting your ass.

"he's not gonna stop until you cum," getou says, now holding your throat in his hand, your face contorted as you whine.

"not once," satoru counters, getou looking over your shoulder with a brow raised, eyes trailing back to yours without disagreement.

"more than once."

"m'almost there," you cry, his mouth all too good, never reaching an orgasm this quickly.

"are you?" getou hums tauntingly, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. you nod, your breath hitching as he bites your lower lip and sucks, blood rushing. you jerk your hand faster, keeping it on the tip like he liked, getou folding easily, hips twitching.

"gonna give it to me?" satoru asks, never ceasing his assault, in love with the way your knees buckle.

"nnn, yea," you chew on your lips, already fucked out. not prepared for what they had in store for you next.

"yeah?" satoru mocks your tone, stuffing his fingers into you and moving to your desired pace. your vision goes static like an old television when you cum, falling forward to rest your cheek on your boyfriend's chest, both the men half stripping throughout your fixation. getou stops you from pulling at his dick, afraid he'll cum too quick. you have that affect on him.

satoru doesn't stop when you cum, he keeps going, more than once, he said. and he meant it. it's worse when getou pulls you up to suck on your neck, tugging at the hardened buds of your nipples , both men touching you at once was filthy, your head buzzing and your mouth nonstop with pornographic sonances. satoru takes his breath when he stands, licking you off his lips as if you were the best fucking dessert he's ever had. while you're left breathless, getou and satoru are pulling off the rest of their clothing, achingly hard they couldn't stand it any longer. you could read them well, especially getou, knowing when he's near done.

getou lays on his back and he pulls you on top of him, your messy face still so adorable. satoru grabs the bottle of lube and two condoms stashed in his drawer before coming back to the bed, brushing the white hair from his face and staring down at you as you turn to look behind yourself, teasing him by grinding your hips midair. satoru snickers, climbing on the bed and resting on his knees. he looks at getou.

"you go first."

your smile is lazy, hugging your man by his neck and cradling your face between it. getou holds out his hand, satoru passing him a condom, the gold packaging being torn with his teeth before he's tossing it aside and sliding it down his cock resting on his stomach.

"lift your hips," getou rasps, hands calloused on either side of your thighs, helping you up till he's sinking you down on it, stretching you good like he always does. you whimper by his ear, clenching your cunt around him once he's fully inside, swaying your ass, belly to belly as you grind and say his favorite word he liked to hear most of all from you; his name.

after satoru's secure, he spreads the lubricant over himself and then some on his fingers he uses to prep you. your cute little hole tensing when the heat from them grazes you, satoru telling you to take a deep breath and relax yourself before he's pressing against the unused entrance. you gasp when he managed to get them in, carefully thrusting past his knuckles. his fingers were as long as getou's. getou tries not to lose it, your pussy warming his cock with little to no movement. satoru continues to prep you for two more minutes, wanting to make sure he eases the discomfort just a bit.

"satoru," you whimper his name, giving him permission to take his turn.

it's a clear signal, and he doesn't waste time, towering over you and pinning down your lower back to arch you a little more. getou soothes you by caressing the sides of your legs, as well as smoothing them over your back. satoru aligns his reddened cockhead to your hole, kissing up your back as he gently pushes into you, inch by inch. the unknown stretch burns, getou turning his head to whisper comforting words to keep your mind off the pain, lifting his hips to fuck into you. the mixture of pain and pleasure has you clawing at his shoulders.

halfway in, satoru decides to bring you up, clutching your chin and getting his turn to taste your lips, sliding, slowly, deeper inside the longer his mouth moved with yours, getou observing you both.

"it's good? you're good?" satoru says in between breaths, hips so close to touching your ass.

"m'good. move, please."

it's enough to make both men move in sync, satoru biting at your neck with his face scrunched up, eyeing getou beneath you. the pain subsides, and all you feel are the tingles in the pit of your stomach, dragging out your moans as they both pounded into you, satoru finally getting deep like he wanted since you relaxed more.

"jesus, fuck . . . mmm," for some reason, the erotic expression on satoru's face makes getou blush, biting his lip as he watches the two of you lose yourselves. how you scratch at his shoulder and the elicit eye roll satoru does. getou never thought he'd feel like this, or like seeing you fuck another man so much.

"you look pretty as fuck taking both of us," getou grunts, smacking at your tits and you keen in shock. satoru must be getting to him now. you scream as the two men fuck you like they'd lost their sanity, gushing around getou's cock while satoru aggressively knocks his dick into you, both following each other's rhythms for you. your skin clashing, pouncing back on them.

"shit," getou whimpers, hips stuttering as he cums inside his condom, chest heaving erratically. you rush your hand over his hair, tugging and riding them still. satoru has his arm around your neck now, slamming his hips against your ass which makes you let go of getou, holding onto his forearm as your tongue lolls out and satoru switches positions.

you're lifted off getou, satoru tossing his condom off to slide into your sluice cunt, groaning and closing his eyes from the new feeling.

"cum inside me," it has getou stunned since you've never said that once, deathly afraid of the idea of pregnancy. maybe you gained a breeding kink overnight. he wonders what videos you researched prior to this that sparked this sudden fantasy to be dominated by two men, two roommates, two new best friends.

"was doing that anyways," he licks the shell of your ear with a malicious cackle. "bet you'd let me fuck you raw every day if it meant I'd get to fill you up."

"yess, baby," you weep, out of your mind entirely.

"baby?" satoru whistles, glaring at getou who only blinked. what's up with you? were you under his spell or something? "i like that. you tryna' make one with me?"

"get smacked," getou threatens.

satoru only grins, grabbing your chin and pressing his nose to your cheek, keeping his eyes on getou. "don't wanna be a daddy with me? it'd be fun. I'll push the stroller and you hold her hand so she doesn't trip with the other kid in her belly."

"cut it," getou seethes.

"you're no fun," satoru pouts, still fucking you back on his dick like it's nothing, your head spinning. his attentions back on you. "say it one more time for me."

"baby," you slur, swallowing the extra saliva built up in your mouth from drooling, giggling when he groans in approval.

"good fuckin' girl," satoru hisses, yanking you back hard, like some rag doll, your screams softening the longer he prolonged, balls slapping against your sticky clit and your tits bouncing so cutely in your babydoll set.

you slap your hands on getou's torso once you cum for your third time, tone drowning out by satoru's who growls and paints your tight walls white, your legs frantically twitching as you fall forward, getou swallowing, endlessly fascinated by you as he rubs you to cool you down.

"wanna watch it drip," satoru keens, raising your ass and holding the dip of your spine down, licking his lips as he watches the way his cum glides from you. "damn, i think it's my birthday, honestly."

you're spent, still shaky and barely having air left in your lungs. satoru leans over you, kisses your cheek with a loud 'muah!' before doing the same to getou, only he kisses him on the lips.

"don't kiss me, asshole!" getou splutters, palm over satoru's face as he shoved him away. you giggle weakly into your boyfriend's chest, reaching behind yourself to keep satoru pressed to your back for warmth, the three of you snuggled up comfortably.

“thank you babe,” you smile, elated.

“you’re welcome, baby,” they say in unison.

getou rolls his eyes, a petty grunt released. “she’s not talking to you.”

“s’okay, her pussy did,” satoru cackles, kissing your cheek with tongue to piss the black-haired man off even further. he remains silent. this time.

© 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖊. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[unhingedangstaddict]

The bucktommy mpreg brainrot is so real wtf. I never thought in a million years I'd write an mpreg fic and well,,,

Here's my latest wip

Tommy was sitting on the bathroom floor next to the toliet again, crying for no reason again. He was so sick of the spontaneous crying and worse he didn’t even know why he was crying. Tommy had cried after the break-up, but he’d mostly stopped after two-ish weeks. He was sick of feeling the way he’d felt all week- horrifically nauseous and tired no matter how much he slept.

Tommy was so caught up in his wallowing and his crying that he didn’t hear Lucy enter the house, didn’t notice her standing in the doorway to the ensuite. He only noticed her when she set a plastic bag from a drug store down at his feet.

Tommy sniffled and looked up at Lucy. “I’m starting to regret giving you a key.” He wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“Is it really so terrible having someone look out for you?” Lucy crossed her arms.

Tommy was quiet.

“Thought so.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy curiously reached for the bag and looked inside.

“First time ever for me, the women's version of something was cheaper than the mens version. It’s the exact same thing, just different colored packaging.” Lucy said nonchalantly.

Tommy hardly registered what Lucy was saying as he plucked the box out of the bag. A three pack of pregnancy tests. In an instant it felt like his world had been flipped on it’s axis.

There was no way this was actually happening, but if he was- if Lucy was right about this, it would make sense. The headaches, the fatigue, the random crying, the nausea and vomiting- morning sickness. Now that Tommy thought about it, it seemed like his sense of smell had maybe been heightened the last week or so too.

“If I’m way out of line here Tommy, just tell me, it’s fine. I’ll keep ‘em for next time I have a scare.” Lucy offered.

Tommy swallowed thickly. His mind and heart were racing. This couldn’t be happening.

“Tommy?” Lucy prompted.

“I don’t know.” Tommy said quietly. Clearly Lucy had been thinking about this at least since they were on the phone not that long ago. Her suggestion to drink something made even more sense now. Tommy couldn’t believe this was his life.

“What- what do you mean you don’t know?” Lucy asked.

“I never uh, I never got tested to see if I’m a carrier.” Tommy couldn't take his eyes off the box of pregnancy tests.

“You’re joking right?” Lucy sounded shocked or maybe even pissed.

Tommy shook his head.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” Lucy questioned. “You- I can’t believe you never got tested. I can understand not getting tested as a kid with your dad being the way he is but Tommy, you’re- you sleep with men! How could you not get tested?”

Tommy spoke with a monotone voice, head clearly elsewhere. “Parents never bothered. Then I was in denial about being gay and thought I could make myself fall in love with a woman. Then it didn’t matter because I was never serious enough to ditch condoms. Then it didn’t matter when I was serious enough to ditch condoms because I was almost exclusively the top and I was too old. The thought never even crossed my mind in all the time I was with Evan.”

“Oh my god Tommy.” Lucy mumbled.

“I know.” Tommy swallowed thickly. “I guess I have to take one of these now, huh?”

“I’d recommend all three, actually.” Lucy told him. “These things aren’t the most reliable, always a chance of false negatives or positives, so it’s best to take more than one test but if you take two and get two different results then you won’t feel any better or worse than you did before taking them, until you take another. So three at once.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.” Tommy looked up at Lucy.

“I’m a woman who does not exclusively sleep with other women.” Lucy shrugged.

Lucy left the bathroom so Tommy could take the tests, and as soon as he was finished he set them on the counter, opened the door for Lucy, started a timer, and sat back down on the floor again, not confident that he wasn’t going to throw up again at any moment.

Lucy came in and sat next to Tommy on the floor. Just by looking at him she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk and for the time being she knew everything she needed to know. Tommy hadn’t even thought about the possibility of this so Lucy was certain that Tommy had no idea what he’d want to do about it- if Tommy was pregnant it was undoubtedly Evan’s, and Tommy was scared and heartbroken right now. Instead of talking Lucy just took his hand and held onto it.

Three minutes felt like an eternity, and if it wasn’t for Lucy holding onto Tommy’s hand, he was sure he would’ve completely lost his grip on reality. He distantly heard the timer on his phone going off, followed by Lucy giving his hand a squeeze. Tommy stopped the timer. He couldn’t look at the tests. He couldn’t move. “Can you look?” He rasped.

“Of course.” Lucy said gently. She stood, not letting go of Tommy’s hand and looked at the tests on the counter. There were two visual tests and one digital test with a weeks along indicator.

The visual tests both showed plus signs, meaning the tests were positive.

The digital test read ‘Pregnant 3+’, meaning three or more weeks along.

“Luce?” Tommy’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Positive.” Lucy told him.

“All of them?” Tommy wondered.

“All three.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy nodded slowly. “Okay.” He whispered as tears stung his eyes and quickly began to fall.

Lucy squeezed Tommy’s hand and returned to her spot on the floor next to him.

Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, rested the arm that wasn’t holding Lucy’s hand on his knees, put his head down, and sobbed for so many reasons it felt like there wasn’t even a reason to be crying at all.

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors? - Ep. 5

I'm traveling this week for very American Christmas reasons (i.e., football), but thankfully I'm a thot, so when I, in perfect health, look at my travel buddies and tell them I have a headache while rubbing my throat, they don't question where I disappear to for two to three hours, so here I am using my slutty excuse that only can be used once on this trip to watch my little gay show in peace!

And it was worth it just so I could see Pepper Keen tell JJ Thanon that he'll punish him later!

Keen better stop making heart eyes at Thanon on company time though because I don't think this will simply be an HR violation. No! Mother knows best, and her best is MURDER! She'll kill all these boys right where they sit as she is truly the only thing between these two who balance each other out (in white and black!).

I'm also glad I used my be-a-thot-to-get-out-of-group-activities pass on this show because Style was looking delicious trying to fight his good sense and his attraction to Fadel.

But I've been in love with this Black Brooder since the pilot trailer, and I too have slept with criminals, so I'd keep screwing this man if I was Style. Just like me, Style might not be the smartest, but he also isn't stupid!

Unlike his best friend!

This twink is going to be the death of him.

In multiple ways. (God, all these men are so beautiful!)

But Kant did do one smart thing and that was avoiding the camera outside of Bison's house by using a foam block to jump the gate, even though he didn't think about the very real chance there was a camera in the hidden room.

Which is why I NEED to know what Kant's true color is!

I'm still in the Kant-is-yellow-or-green corner like his spa key, but the people behind this show said he was dark blue like his cup.

And regardless of what Bison says, he is a Red Rascal, so either his favorite color is blue, and he turns red when needed,

Or he is picking up on Kant's true color and just playing the part of a docile boy as I suspect.

Bison noticed Babe's bruises, realized their female target would be more into Fadel, and knew James was following him, so unlike Kant who only noticed the exterior camera, Bison is far more observant of people and inner workings.

Every time Kant sees Bison's red side, he looks terrified, and we know he didn't actually date this Red Rascal, but only slept with him.

So I think Bison is attempting to tone down himself and his color by appearing blue.

He cares about this alleged (dark) Blue Boy.

Which is why I think he is trying to be what he thinks Kant would be interested in.

But the red is always there.

It's always around Bison, which is why I feel confident that he is a Red Rascal no matter what he wants to be.

And I think Kant is actually into it because red is always somewhere near him.

He smiled while looking at his phone when texting Bison and his shirts always have red on them, but, once again, red is also always around him in small ways!

So since he knows Bison's real color (because he does know he is a hitman), does he love him despite it?

I think he does and that these two besties are in the same swan-shaped love boat with their oddly colored couples' shirts.

Because it's clear that this (light) Blue Boy is in love with a criminal Black Brooder.

Not only did he explicitly state that he has feelings for this Black Brooder to his best friend,

But he also stepped into his true blue color this episode.

Blue Boys are loyal. They are trustworthy and provide a sense of safety, security, and calmness. So regardless of the circumstances, these two are actually in love since they are already exchanging colors.

Fadel told Style he wasn't that deep yet and he could get over Style easily, but Blue Boy Style already has Black Brooder Fadel baring parts of himself that he has had covered and buried for years. I stated Style was all flesh before, and I appreciate that the boy who doesn't mind being nude is the one to strip Fadel and expose his secrets.

Because just like his best friend, Style now knows exactly who Fadel is, yet unlike his friend who struggles with finding himself liking Bison despite Bison being a killer, Style seems to like Fadel MORE because he is the only one who finally gets to see what Fadel hides from everyone else.

So the tiny fact that their softest and most intimate moments happened at Style's place, an auto repair shop, the place where he restores beings by getting under the hood and repairing the broken parts isn't lost on me. Style wanted Kant's classic car, but he is realizing Fadel is the real classic. Style just doesn't want to get Fadel's engine revving; he wants to treat him the way a classic should be cared for.

Because a mechanic knows a classic never goes out of style.

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

This wonderful little show has come to an end, and I feel compelled to tell folks why I loved it, and why you should watch if you haven't yet. First, a big word of thanks to @isaksbestpillow for providing her excellent subtitles and making this show available to international fans. You can find all seven episodes here, get them while you can!

This drama understands that sometimes we really do want to fuck that old man

I don't know what to tell you, the man is hot. He is kind, patient, and generous, he's a master chef, he has a beautiful home with a garden that he tends himself, he is a loving dog owner, and on top of all that he has a hilarious dry wit. Who wouldn't want to fuck him??

Ishida is an endearing protagonist having a relatable quarter life crisis

Ishida certainly does! Which is a nice little revelation for him in a time when he's already struggling to figure himself out, as it's his first time wanting to fuck a man and his work colleague to boot. Ishida has hit a stumble in his original career choice and is feeling pretty apathetic about his job when he meets Mitsuya and gets his world rocked.

Mitsuya is a weary older man who has been burned

Mitsuya is quite a contrast to Ishida as an older adult who very much has his shit together, but has also survived some deep hurts living as an out gay man and grown reluctant to let people in. He and Ishida both see something in each other that the other needs.

It's a food drama that will make your mouth water

The food Mitsuya makes and serves to Ishida in this show looks so delicious that I had to make sure I was fed before watching each episode. Mitsuya can feel free to bait me with food any time.

Shige is my idol

We get to spend ample time at the neighborhood bar, where Mitsuya's old friend Shige serves drinks and hot goss. Shige is a great mix of the wise elder gay dispensing advice and the mischievous trouble maker who likes to stir the pot. I love him, and this show's understanding of the realities of men their age living out and proud.

Frito is a very good dog

FRITO! I'm not always too hype about pets with prominent roles in my shows, but in this story Frito is an important character and an emotional support to Mitsuya, and often provides impetus for Mitsuya and Ishida to grow closer.

Have I mentioned this show is hilarious

Truly, so funny. I laughed out loud during most episodes. Ishida is a walking comedy show as he flails through life, and the few moments when Mitsuya's dignified exterior cracks will have you howling.

It gave us one of the best dates I have ever seen on my screen

I still think about this date all the time. It was so beautifully written to underscore why this couple fits and how they each meet the needs of the other. Just having seen this one day spent together, it's easy to understand how a life between the two of them would unfold.

This show has a mature and nuanced understanding of relationships

We get deep into the show's perspective on love and romantic relationships via the return of Mitsuya's ex, Kaoru, a plot which the story handles with remarkable grace. I loved the space they gave to Mitsuya's former love and need for closure, and that Kaoru was not treated like a villain. He even got to provide an assist to Ishida!

The main romance feels deep and compelling

All of this adds up so that by the time we got to the finale, I really believed in this romance and why Ishida and Mitsuya needed each other, and the way the show dug into their hesitations and fears around that was so moving. My only regret is this show is short and we can't follow them to keep watching their lives together, but we got what we needed to feel confident in their future. I will miss them.

[hatosaur]

it's pretty implied that ellie never came out to joel in the proper sense. she lets him assume that she's into men, gives him the false satisfaction of "seeing" her "crush" on jesse, does not correct him. she's fairly confident in being gay in public for others to see and having others close to her know; so why not correct him? why dodge the topic?

was it out of fear? could it be that she never broached the topic despite being close to him in the early years because of the possibility of his reaction being negative? that she was afraid that out of all things that could force them apart (further apart after they split), him reacting badly to her being gay would be the worst?

what about at the dance? would she have been as wound up as she was if the moment hadn't been an encounter with a vicious homophobe? maybe she would've still snapped without this context, but why is she immediately on the defensive against joel after he sticks up for her?

what about the porch scene? why did she refute his question of dina being her girlfriend so insecurely, looking away, nervously and quietly stumbling over words? why isn't she mean about it? why doesn't she get defensive at the question? why did she lash out again when he expressed acceptance?

i think these scenes revolving around her queerness indicate it as such; that ellie never told joel for fear of a response, that she lets him think what he wants because that's the easiest way for it to be. then, when she's ready to face off against a homophobe, because that's the way things are, that's what she can expect, and joel defends her, she lashes out.

it's such a clear juxtaposition of support and hatred between joel and seth, and being faced with joel's acceptance is too much, makes her turn to the anger she'd been holding onto and reinforce what she thinks is true -- that she doesn't need him. and in the fallout, as her regret dawns on her, so too does the realization; he was protecting her, like always, without hesitation, over this thing she was always afraid he wouldn't accept her for.

in the porch scene, joel chooses his words wisely, and asks if dina is her girlfriend -- not "so you're gay?" or "why did you never tell me?" or "how long has this been a thing?" -- with such a casuality that it seems to throw her off. it's like ellie can hardly get the words out. she refutes the idea, fumbles for each following part of her response, is tense. she wasn't prepared for the question.

and when he finally asserts his support for her, in as explicit terms as he can, you can see ellie become emotional, touched for a moment but overcome, before she launches into the defensive again, exactly like at the dance scene -- meeting his kindness with hostility as a way to cope with her emotions.

and then, in response to her basically saying her life doesn't matter, he affirms that it does.

so he's now affirmed two things that ellie has doubted: that he accepts her being a lesbian, and that her life matters. a conflation of the two, in ellie's mind, may have come after; and after that, her olive branch.

and yeah, him affirming these things for her is fully in the context of his overwhelming parental love for her and her complex feelings about being the cure, but within a queer subtext, it means more. it's such a familiar thing to slink around loved ones and hide being gay/queer for fear of any type of response, and lying by omission in conversation just to keep that state of peace, of normalcy. ellie, with all her brutishness and bravery, falls into it like anyone else, because even while mad at him, she valued that response from him.

a lot of people seem to think that the approach to ellie's queerness is nonchalant, that it's just some unrelated thing about her, but i think that it holds more weight in the narrative that what is explicitly spelled out. it's subtle but it was a deliberate choice to place her queerness at the center of the confrontation. i think that's why ellie's relationship with dina took center stage in the story, and why so much time is devoted to just them -- because her being queer matters to her character, but in a way that perhaps only a queer person can see, analyze, and appreciate (without being blatant enough to anger certain other fans).

[newfoundstateof]

baby, we're the new romantics | benedict bridgerton

summary: engaged!reader learns that she is enraptured by both men and women at a late-night gathering

word count: 4.3k

warnings: nfsw 18+, threesome ffm

a/n: this one is for the gays!!!!! pretty tame for smut, too much plot but that's just what i prefer

Summer was fast approaching, and you and your fiancé, Charles Beckworth, shared a comfortable silence, taking a turn around the garden. While you checked on your flowers, he enjoyed the first warm sunlight of the year. After deciding that a tulip patch was growing nicely, you turned to your betrothed.

“Tell me where you run off to in the night,” you whispered to him. “You have been suspiciously leaving events early this season. Where are you going?”

Charlie looked at you, and a whisper of shock crossed his face. But his expression was quickly schooled.

“Home?” he said plainly.

“I know you are not retiring to your bachelor lodgings,” you pressed. “It’s eating me alive, so tell me. I am your most trusted confidant, yes?”

Your free hand squeezed his arm that was looped with yours, urging him to remember all that you have been through. 

You’d met last season. Needing some fresh air during another stiff ball, you stole away to the garden and found a kindred soul in the gazebo. Charlie also despised the social season. Initially, you thought him a rake and not ready to settle down. But he was just like you, simply mourning the youth that you hadn’t realized was over until its sudden death. The two of you concocted a plan: until one of you was ready for marriage, the two of you would pretend to court.

It wasn’t until you found him and another man half undressed, hidden from a gallery viewing, that you realized he would never be ready for marriage. He expected you to cast him out and was surprised when you proposed the next day. After a season of finding the company of men underwhelming, you supposed there were worse fates than marrying your best friend.

“Fine.” Leaning in, he continued, “You know I find pleasure with the same sex.”

You nodded slowly.

“I go to parties that allow me to show my affection to them,” he confessed. “But it’s no place for you. The ladies there are not-”

“Ladies are welcome?” you interrupted. “Parties where they talk of social reform? Humanism? Free love? Ladies are present at these?”

“I’m surprised you even know of such events,” Charlie teased.

You shrugged. “My parents complain about your sort endlessly. Radicals will ruin this country!”

“This country could stand to be ruined,” Charlie said. “And yes, those are the kind of parties I attend. You wouldn’t like-”

“Then I must come with you.”

“No,” Charlie said in a stern voice he had never used with you before.

“Yes,” you insisted.

“Hearing the things they speak of and seeing the things they partake in would make you faint instantly.” You laughed before realizing he was serious.

“Please take me with you,” you pleaded. “You know that I can keep a secret.”

Charlie pursed his lips. “Maybe one day, darling.”

It took weeks of bargaining and reasoning and flattery, but Charlie eventually yielded. Suffice it to say, your first party did not end well. The next morning, you still felt as if your stomach had more to wretch up, and you swore off alcohol for the rest of your life. But after a few more late nights, you could hold your spirits.

The arrangement required more lying than you were comfortable with, feigning illnesses or a small injury. Charlie, ever the gentleman, would escort you back home with his mother as a chaperone. But his mother, ever the romantic, would allow the coachmen to drop her off home first, so the two of you could steal some extra time together. To her knowledge, you made it home safely, and Charlie retired to his bachelor lodgings.

Having a secret was fun, especially since you kept it with your best friend. Although you and Charlie went your separate ways at parties, you still stole furtive, snickering glances at each other. Watching the other shine. Him with that week’s paramour, you with the university students, who were home for summer and whom you hounded with questions.

Tonight, Charlie was whispering to one of his favorite lovers by the staircase. As you watched in the living room, you observed what Charlie did best. Seducing. Alluring. Convincing the other man to follow him upstairs for some fun. You’d never had that sort of fun. You were a bit jealous of him as you gulped down the rest of your drink. Before Charlie disappeared upstairs, he flashed you a wink. You teasingly rolled your eyes in return.

Although gatherings like these were filled with debauchery, foreign drugs, and gallons of whiskey, intellectual conversations could be found if one sought them out. Tonight, the topic was Byron’s “She Walks in Beauty.” A pipe was placed in your hands, cutting off your flow of thought, as a lady sat down, joining you on the loveseat.

“Oh,” you gasped, holding the unfamiliar pipe between your thumb and index finger. “I don’t smoke.”

The lady chuckled, her sly smile contagious. “You do now. Open up.”

She leaned into you, bringing the pipe up to your mouth with one hand. The other came up to rest on your shoulder. Your lips wrapped around the wooden tip, and you looked up at her curiously, waiting for additional instruction.

“Breathe in,” she giggled.

You did as told. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in, the smoke setting your lungs ablaze. Soon, you were hunched over your knees and coughing.

“Oh, maybe you don’t smoke,” said the lady, taking the pipe from you. “It’s okay, it never feels right at first.”

“That was just tobacco, yes?” you asked, coughing once more into your hand.

“Just tobacco,” she nodded, taking a puff from the pipe. “My name is Victoria Leybourne. We’ve not yet been introduced, but I see you plenty. You’re Charlie’s wife aren’t you?”

“Fiancé,” you corrected. “We are to be married the day before Christmas.”

“It’s lovely what you’re doing for him,” Victoria said. “Though I suppose that he is doing a lovely thing for you in return.”

You hummed, a little confused with her wording. “He is my best friend, I would do anything for him. And it is an added bonus that I would be granted lots of freedom I otherwise wouldn’t have with another man.”

“You wouldn’t consider spinsterhood?” Victoria asked.

“No, why would I?”

Victoria paused, staring into your eyes in deep thought. “So you’re not… You are enraptured by the male species?”

You almost coughed. “Erm… yes. I suppose am.”

“And what of the female of the species?”

Her hand came up to brush a piece of hair away from your face, but she continued to stroke something small and invisible at your temple. Her eyes were sharp yet alluringly gentle. You never suspected you were like Charlie, but what could possibly explain the ache you felt between your legs?

“I have never once… considered it,” you told her truthfully, “but am simultaneously not opposed to the idea at all.”

“How fascinating.” She took another drag from the pipe but held the smoke in her mouth.

As she inched closer to you, you realized what she intended to do. Hesitantly, you let your jaw fall and craned your neck towards her. Victoria’s hands slid their way up your neck to cradle the sides of your face, ticking your skin.

The touch of a woman was so familiar. Your mother was constantly adjusting your hair just so, and lady’s maids dressed you each morning. But this was different. This made your heart drop and your mouth dry. It was scary how out of touch you felt with your body, but you knew that you didn’t want her to stop.

Victoria’s lips barely grazed your own, and she slowly exhaled. Following her pace, you breathed in her smoke. It stung, but this time you knew you could bear it. Breathing it back out, it enveloped Victoria’s round face.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked.

“Maybe not here,” you said, looking around the room.

No one was paying attention, too absorbed in talks on the state of the country and what the future had in store. But your eyes caught one man in the corner, drinking alone. He was watching the two of you intently. His fingers tugged his cravat from his neck, bringing it down to cover his manhood. But it was too late, both you and Victoria had seen the large bulge in his pants. Your cheeks reddened, realizing that he had been watching.

“Looks like our host seems to be enjoying the view,” Victoria sang. “We should extend an invitation. Would that be okay? From previous experience, I can assure you that you won’t regret it.”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. “Maybe he could watch?”

You couldn’t believe what you had just said. Just the same with lying with a woman, it had never before crossed your mind of intimacy between more than two people. But, you couldn’t help but relate to the man’s voyeurism. When couples hurriedly left the dance floor at balls, you couldn’t stop yourself from following to see what happened next—what truly happened when one loved another.

Victoria let out a delighted squeal and took your hand. As she led you across the room to the man, his gaze never left yours.

“Benedict Bridgerton,” she smiled, finally reaching him.

So this was Benedict Bridgerton. Being an unmarried woman in London, of course, you had heard the name. But the man himself was elusive. He rarely attended events of the ton; his mother always claimed nothing could pull him away from his art studio. You would have never guessed he had instead been hosting parties of his own all this time.

“Victoria,” he grinned. “Who do we have here?”

“Charlie’s girl,” she said, giving your hand a squeeze. “She’s a bit shy, so I’m afraid you can’t join us in the ways that matter. But she says you’re permitted to watch.”

His eyebrow quirked at that. “Fascinating.”

His gaze was glued to Victoria, making you fidget. You felt like a fly on the wall at that moment; it was a feeling you knew all too well from the various balls of the season. One debutant of nearly a hundred. Back then, you didn’t mind going unnoticed, but now, you realized that you wanted his attention. You wanted to be seen.

“I think the same of her, yes,” Victoria nodded. “Well, come now. Perhaps you can lend some advice. And of course, lead us to the best room.”

Benedict rose, finally acknowledging you again, scanning your body from head to foot. He greeted you by name which surprised you. You’d never been formally introduced. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“A pleasure, my lord,” you said instinctively.

“Oh, it will be indeed,” Victoria chuckled, pulling you closer.

The two of you followed Benedict through his bachelor lodgings, weaving between arguments and intertwined bodies alike. His confident stride led you up the stairs to a large bedroom at the end of the hallway. 

“Your personal chambers,” Victoria hummed, still holding your hand. “We are certainly receiving special treatment tonight.”

She finally let go of your hand to close the door, locking it with a quick click.

“This doesn’t happen often,” he admits, pulling a chair up to the foot of his bed, taking a seat, and kicking off his shoes. “But I’m certainly ready for a show.”

Victoria preened next to you, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Now, get on the bed,” he ordered.

Victoria left your side and crawled up on the bed, standing on her knees. Never in a million years would you have imagined doing this. Taking pleasure in another woman—in front of a man no less. But something inside you stirred in excitement, and you wanted to do a good job. For Victoria and for Benedict. You just weren’t sure that you could.

Benedict’s head lolled to face you. “You can change your mind, dear. We won’t mind.”

“No,” you croaked out. “No, I’m just nervous is all.”

This was your first… well, everything to be quite honest. Since joining Charlie on his late nights, men have approached you, remarked on your beauty, led you to a private corner. And you let them. You were curious. There’d been modest kisses and less than thrilling groping, but none of that counted to you. It hadn’t mattered a great deal to you, but this does.

Rising, Benedict crossed the room to you, taking your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No need for nerves. And we can stop whenever you like, just say the word.”

He led you to the bed, helping you up before returning to his seat. Victoria smiled, taking the same hand Benedict held seconds ago.

“You’re stunning,” she sighed.

“You’re radiant,” you said quickly. But it was true. Her dark hair and eyes drew you in like a magnet.

You were mere inches from her face and could feel her warm breath as she breathed heavily in anticipation. But somehow air was caught in your own lungs, and your muscles were too tense to give any release. Downstairs, you and Vicotria were hidden in plain sight, but now, there was nothing to hide your want for another woman. Now, you were positioned in front of Benedict as if on a stage.

“Take a breath, dear,” Benedict said gently. “No need to hold it in.”

You exhaled sharply. Almost a pant.

“Now, do what you could not downstairs,” he directed. “There’s no shame here.”

And in an instant, your hands found Victoria’s waist, and her lips were crashing into yours. Victoria’s lips were full and plush. Her mouth had a smokey taste from the pipe you shared, but despite this, they still tasted sweet. Her grip was stronger than expected as she took the sides of your face to pull you harder into her. Out of the corner of your eye, Benedict started to shed his coat and vest, making your heart race faster.

Although Victoria was the one to pursue you, she gave you most of the control. Underneath her soft curves, you felt strong muscles; she could’ve easily pinned you to the mattress, but instead, she followed your instincts. She was the one to fall to her back, letting you crawl over her, running your lips up the column of her neck. Her whines were music to your ears. You needed more. You needed a symphony.

Your hands kneaded at her breasts, her teeth pulling on your bottom lip, when Benedict appeared at your side. He leaned a hand on the bedpost but didn’t get any closer than that.

“Have you been intimate with a woman before?” he asked. No judgment, just curiosity.

“No,” you gasped, eyes still shut in pleasure.

“Would you like guidance?”

Your head shot up, eyes struggling to focus. At first, you thought to be insulted. What you lacked in experience, you at least thought you made up for in vigor.

“You’re doing well, don’t worry,” chuckled Benedict. “But I have some tricks that may increase your lady’s pleasure even more.”

“I thought you were just going to watch,” you said.

“I have more experience, dear.” He wasn’t smug, simply factual. “If you allow it, I wish to help.”

“Please, Benedict,” Victoria moaned underneath you. “If she allows it.”

He looked at you, unnervingly serious. “Do you allow it?”

You hesitated. “I allow it.”

Benedict immediately shifted onto the bed, urging you to sit up so you were straddling Victoria.

“You too, Victoria. We need to rid you of some layers,” he decided.

With your help, she rose from the bed. Her curly hair was wild and mussed. “Will you do the honors, my lord?”

Benedict’s gaze flicked to you, and you gave a quick nod. It was clear Benedict and Victoria had a trusting relationship. He certainly excited her as well. With expert precision, he stripped her gown, leaving her in a white chemise, and toyed with one of the lace straps.

“Follow my lead,” Benedict instructed.

Your left hand came up to Victoria’s other strap, and as if there were a mirror, your and Benedict’s hands moved in synch. The straps slunk down her arms like slow molasses, revealing the very top of Victoria’s corset that Benedict was already loosening.

“We’ll start small,” he said. “Well, not small, my dear.”

Victoria giggled as he shimmied the corset down her waist, revealing her well-endowed chest. Your hand reached out to gently massage her nipple that hardened underneath your touch. 

“Mmm,” she moaned, leaning into you.

“A natural,” Benedict chuckled. “Yes, keep circling your fingers around her. Even give it a slight pinch if you wish.”

You obediently followed his instructions.

“I’ll ease the ache of her other breast,” he said, his hand already snaking from her shoulder, down her chest. “How does it feel, Victoria.”

“Heavenly,” she breathed, eyes shut in pleasure. “But you know what I prefer, Benedict.”

“Yes,” he purred, mouth pressed against her ear. Just the sight caused a rush to your center. “She much prefers being worked by tongue. Are you ready for that?”

That was all the invitation you needed to lean forward and latch onto her breast. You could hear her heartbeat, feel her breath hitch, taste her sweet skin. You looked up to find both of them staring down at you in awe.

“A sight to behold,” Benedict said. “Try suckling, my dear.”

Like a kitten lapping at a bowl of milk for the first time, your movement was awkward yet eager. Sensing your hesitation, Benedict shifted to Victoria’s side and brought his own lips to her other breast.

“Like this, love,” he said.

Still working Victoria, your gaze flicked to him, and you studied. Observed the way his cheeks hollowed out, his tongue momentarily escaping to circle the underside of her breast. From above, Victoria let out small cries of pleasure, latching a hand behind Benedict’s head to guide him better. You followed suit and soon felt Victoria’s other hand gathering the hair at the nape of your neck. A chorus of salacious suckling and heaving breathing filled the room. You were a trio of moans.

Suddenly, you felt a rough hand grasp your own. Together, your and Benedict’s fingers found Victoria’s center. Hot and slick and velvety, it felt like your own when you touched yourself when no one was near. But at the same time, it was entirely different. A whole new world to explore, one that you wanted to dive into and never leave. Quickly finding her pleasure area, you circled it in the opposite direction your tongue rounded her nipples. When Benedict used his own fingers to enter her, Victoria pulled hard. Hard enough that you and Benedict came up gasping for air.

“The two of you are going to be the death of me,” she sighed before pressing searing kisses to first your lips, then Benedict’s. With her hands still grasping your neck, she gently guided your faces to each other. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you said together.

And then his lips were on yours. It took everything in you not to continue pleasuring Victoria with the same victor, but your mind was hazy. His teeth were nipping your lips and his fingers were soon filling your mouth with Victoria’s sweetness. Sure, you had allowed men to kiss you and roam your body before. But that had simply been for experimentation, trying something new for the sake of it. Kissing Benedict was different. You wanted it. You wanted to express yourself and explore him. His fingers retreated back down, but instead of Victoria’s core, they found yours underneath your skirts. You gasped. No other person had ever pleasured you there.

“She looks like she’s found eternal life,” Victoria moaned.

“I think I have.” Involuntarily, your head lulled back, but Victoria supported the back of your neck. Soon, she was joining the kiss, and you couldn’t tell whose lips, tongue, teeth were whose.

At your center, Victoria’s hand began to roam along with Benedict’s. She teased your entrance until you shifted your hips and took her down to her knuckle. Whincing, you adjusted to the tightness. It stung but with pleasure. As Benedict stroked you, Victoria started pumping. Despite everything, you wanted more and rotated your hips against them both, chasing this new feeling. 

“She wants it all,” Benedict chuckled, leaning back to watch Victoria litter your face with kisses. “An insatiable minx.”

“You’re doing beautifully,” she encouraged. “A naughty, naughty girl you are.”

Their praise only fueled you, and the small ache deep within started to grow and grow. Light tears prickled in your peripheral and small cries leaped out of your lips without you registering. 

“I…” you gasped. “I… I don’t-”

“You’re about to finish, my dear,” Benedict growled. “We’ll get you there, don’t worry.”

“Yes,” Victoria purred. “Don’t stop, my love.”

Benedict shifted around you, and both latched onto your neck, urging the ache inside you to release. Nonsense words babbled out of you before you finally cried out one final time. They continued to stroke and suckle until you had ridden out the high and came back down, gasping for air. 

“My word,” you breathed as each kissed your temples, caressed your breasts.

“Was that your first time climaxing?” Benedict asked.

“Yes, it was just about my first everything.”

Stroking your hair, Victoria smiled, “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

“We must do the same for the two of you.” You sat up straighter, waiting for instruction.

“No, no,” Benedict hushed. “Let’s just rest.”

Victoria hummed in agreement, pushing you softly to the mattress. They followed suit with Victoria taking the spot in the middle. You and Benedict curved around her, resting your heads on her breastbone—almost identical to your position earlier in the evening. A lazy smile crossed his lips before his eyes fluttered shut.

“This is heaven,” he whispered.

“Agreed,” Victoria said, stroking both of your heads. 

You nuzzled closer to her neck, breathing in her scent, intertwining your legs with hers. Although you could feel your eyelids sinking and your breath slowing, you wanted to express your gratitude.

“Thank you,” you sighed. “I’ve never, ever been happier.”

You woke with a gasp. Had it all truly happened? Looking around, you were in the same room you remembered. And next to you was a body resembling Benedict Bridgerton, but he was on his stomach facing away from you. Your heart sank, realizing there was no sign of Victoria. 

Climbing out of bed, you adjusted your dress back to its original state as best you could. By the time you slid your last shoe back on, Benedict stirred and woke.

“Abandoning me so soon?” he teased, rolling onto his side to better face you.

“I must get back before sunrise,” you said. “I suppose that’s why Victoria ran off so soon as well.”

“Yes.” Benedict rolled out of bed and began dressing. “She woke me when she left, but didn’t want to interrupt your rest.”

Once returned to order, he opened the door for you, and you both made your way to the exit. There were still a few stragglers, either sleeping or impossibly still conversing, but for the most part, the crowd had dispersed. Your shoulder brushed with his every other step as you descended the stairs.

“She asks if you will be back next week,” Benedict said.

You smiled. “How could I stay away?” 

“Good,” he replied in a proud tone. “She also asks if you’re free during calling hours tomorrow.”

“She asks that?” you laughed. “She knows that I am engaged.”

‘Right,” he said, wincing. “To dear Charles. How could I… she forget.”

Arriving at the front door, you waited for him to open it, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer. 

“I know how deeply you care for him, so I will not suggest it again,” he said.

“Oh, you misunderstand. You must know that-”

“I do know,” he said.

“He’s quite popular at these gatherings, yes,” you chuckled.

“No, I know because I’ve… been with him.” Benedict's gaze bore into yours, almost as if asking something of you. “Do you remember? Last season?”

You parsed through all the memories of meeting Charlie for the first time, pretending to court one another, and becoming engaged once you learned his secret. But Benedict Bridgerton was hidden in none of these memories. 

“You walked in on us,” he supplied. “At an art gallery. I saw you the moment you walked in, but you didn’t say anything. You just watched. And I liked being watched by you, so I didn’t say anything. Charlie only noticed when you tried to make your leave but tripped on your way out.”

“That was you?” In disbelief, you took a step closer to get a better look at him. “That was you, I suppose. I didn’t get a good look at you then.”

“Are you sure,” he chuckled. “Because you seemed quite enraptured in the moment.”

You slapped his arm playfully. “I won’t apologize for my… voyeur habits, for lack of better words.”

“I’d never ask you to,” he said. “But what I mean to say is I understand your arrangement. And I would never want to do anything that jeopardizes it, so I will keep my distance. In the social scene at least.”

“But behind closed doors?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I will never stray.” He bent down, capturing your lips and pulling you closer to him. 

It took multiple attempts, but eventually, you managed to pull away and depart. The sun was just starting to rise as he waved goodbye, leaning sleepily against the door frame. In the carriage he had prepared, you slumped against the seat. You couldn’t call off your engagement. Charlie was your best friend, your mother would be so impossibly mad, and above all, you barely knew Benedict Bridgerton.

You quickly batted the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you could not cancel your wedding for a man you’d just met.

- - - -

a/n: my masterlist is here! i hope you enjoyed, this took foreverrrr to write. just constantly putting it down and picking it back up. so sadly, a second installment is not likely. but of course, please imagine an eventual happy ending :)

[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

[cosyvelvetorchid]

So, I had an idea for a fake dating au, as well as 2 people suggesting prompts for Clipboard Buck.

Lo and behold I’ve managed to come up with an idea that combines the two.

I’m not sure if it’ll be a long-ass oneshot or a chaptered fic yet (we’ll see how inspired I am as I write it), but here’s a little sneak peek of part of what I’ve written so far.

Enjoy!

🩶

**********

Buck opened the door to the last person he expected.

“T-Tommy.”

The man smiled. “Hey, Evan. Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to let him through. “Is-is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He said waving away Buck’s concerns. “I actually have a, uh, favour to ask.” He scratched the back of his head. Buck hadn’t know him long—a couple weeks at best—but he seemed.. nervous? Maybe not nervous but he definitely had a little less confidence in his demeanour than Buck had seen in him so far.

From the moment Tommy had met them at Harbour station weeks ago, he’d oozed confidence. His body language, the way he spoke, the way he did his job—Buck had watched in awe at the way his hands delicately glided over the controls as he flew the helicopter back after the cruise ship rescue. In the handful of times they’d met since then, Tommy always seemed to come across quite squared away.

“Uh, sure.” Buck walked over to the counter. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So what’s the favour? Nothing illegal is it?” Buck joked.

“I- What if it was?” Tommy enquired with a curious look to his eyes.

“How illegal are we talking?.”

“Wait, so there’s some illegal activity you would be willing to engage in?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, like murder? No. Breaking into a lab to rescue animals—I’d be down.” He answered placing Tommy’s coffee mug in front of him on the island.

“Thanks, and duly noted.” He chuckled. “Nah, it’s nothing like that. You remember last night I mentioned I had family coming to town?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s my aunt Clara who’s coming.” Tommy said.

“Is she not very nice?”

“No, she’s great. Practically raised me after my parents-“ He abruptly stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “She’s a great lady. The problem is that from the moment I came out to her a couple of years ago she has constantly been trying to set me up with men she knows. And, God love the woman, but her taste in men is awful.” Buck couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you wanting me to set you up with someone? ‘Cause, I’m sorry but I don’t think I know any single gay men.”

“Oh, no, that’s not- That wasn’t the favour.”

“Oh?”

“I’m actually not looking to date anybody, which she cannot seem to accept. But, when she wouldn’t let it go on the phone last week, I kinda, sorta lied and told her I already had a boyfriend.” He admitted.

“And now she’s coming to visit..”

“She’s expecting me to introduce her to him.”

“Oh.” Buck responded.

“So-“ He elongated the word. “I was wondering if you would consider.. pretending to be my boyfriend for a day?”

“Oh.” Buck said again. He had zero idea of what the fovour was going to be but he never would have guess that.

“She’s only on town for 1 night and it would just be a couple of hours for dinner.” Tommy added.

“Why me?” Buck asked, truly confused as to why Tommy would pick him of all people. Tommy was effortlessly cool and accomplished—Buck was a dork.

“Honestly, I don’t have anybody else to ask. She met Chimney a couple of times back when I was at the 118 and knows he’s straight, that leaves Bobby, which, absolutely not, or Eddie and no offence to him but he screams straight guy—no way he could pull off queer.”

Buck laughed at the true statement. “But you think I could?”

“God, I hope so.” Tommy said. “Plus, you’re closer to my type anyway so it’s more likely that Clara would believe it.”

Tommy’s face was kind of adorable, really. Buck wasn’t sure if he was deliberately putting on those puppy dog eyes, but they were working, regardless.

“What would I need to do?”

“Just have dinner with us.”

“That’s it?” Buck asked.

“You are expecting more? I’m not sure that would be appropriate at the dinner table, Evan.” Tommy winked and Buck’s cheeks immediately pinked up.

“That’s not what I meant!” He protested to Tommy’s amusement. “I just meant like, would I have to hold your hand, have my arm around you etc?”

“You wouldn’t have to. Not if that would make you feel uncomfortable.” He explained.

“I-I don’t mind. When is the dinner?”

“Friday night.”

“Okay. That gives us 3 days to plan.” Buck said unlocking his phone and opening the notes app.

“I’m sorry.. plan?” Tommy said confused.

“Well, yeah! If we’re going to make this believable we need to make sure we get our stories straight.”

“She’s my aunt not the Spanish Inquisition, Evan.”

“And what happens if-if.. Say I order you a drink and it’s one you hate and she knows that you hate it.. wouldn’t that be weird? Or-or if she asks how we met and we give different answers.”

“I think you’re overthinking this a little.” Tommy said gently.

“I think you’re under thinking this a lot.” Buck countered.

Tommy looked at Buck for a few seconds and sighed resolutely. “I’m not going to win this am I?”

“Nope.” Buck replied with a grin.

Little did Tommy know that he’d just met Clipboard Buck.

**********

(Btw—I will give credit to those who sent the prompts once the fic is done 👍)

[herinsectreflection]

I'm So Evil, And Skanky, And I Think I'm Kinda Gay (Bad Girls)

In 1872, a full twenty-five years before the release of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Irish author Sheridan Le Fanu published Carmilla. This story depicts the relationship between the young and innocent protagonist, Laura, and the confident and mysterious title character, Carmilla. A friendship blossoms between Carmilla and Laura and the two become close, but over time Laura becomes suspicious of Carmilla’s strange behaviour. She flees from her, and it is revealed that Carmilla is a vampire who has been preying on Laura – feeding on her nightly and attempting to turn her into a creature of darkness. Carmilla is confronted, killed, has her head removed and body burned, and the ashes of both are thrown into the river. 

A simple story and much shorter than a true novel, Carmilla’s historical impact outweighs its length. Not only is it one of the earliest and most notable pieces of vampire fiction, and a great influence on Dracula itself, it is also the origin point of one of the most controversial tropes in this genre of fiction: the Lesbian Vampire.

The vampire myth as constructed by Dracula and its compatriots positions vampires as a corrupting sexual influence upon women. Older men sneak into the bedrooms of virginal young women, penetrate them, and therefore transform them into something tragic and ungodly. They personify a threat to patriarchy; a threat perceived in the form of female sexuality. The idea is that an unmarried woman having symbolic sex will irrevocably twist them into some kind of monster.

The Lesbian Vampire exists as an extension of this idea, focusing on one of the most diabolical threats to patriarchal ideology – a woman who sexually desires another woman. Carmilla’s victims are exclusively female, and her pursuit of Laura is very visibly romantic in nature. She kisses Laura, confesses love for her, the two take walks in the moonlight and embrace each other. This is what leads to Carmilla feeding upon Laura and threatening her death. Symbolically, there is no separation between the two. The danger Laura is in is caused by same-sex desire. Carmilla’s villainy is her lesbianism. The trope does not have to include vampires in a strict sense, but more generally the link of sapphic seduction leading to corruption.

Read More

[idesofrevolution]

Sweat and Polyester

Siyu Jiang was in love. After moving to the United States from Guangzhou to get his degree in Software Engineering, it was a hard pill to swallow that he was less than stellar at mingling with his peers. Guangzhou was a mega city, easy for him to blend in and mind his own business, busy enough for him to get a contact-high of sorts to feed his need for socialization. New Orleans on the other hand, while not a small town per se, felt tiny and almost claustrophobic to him. Everyone knew eachother, and everyone took the time to chat, go out, have a drink or a blunt, 'fraternize' if you catch my drift... and Siyu quietly observed from a distance, watching the world bustle by.

That is, until he saw Eduardo. In China, he had never felt attracted to men. Perhaps it was the somewhat hostile environment for queer folks, or perhaps it was New Orleans' more laissez-faire attitude about stuff like that, but when the new semester started and he walked into that chemistry class, it was like fireworks erupted from his eyes. Eduardo was on the basketball team, pretty great at it too. He was tall, he was fit, he had those big brown eyes that made Siyu see sideways. When he plopped down in his seat next to Siyu, still in the gym clothes he'd worn to practice an hour or so before and wafting the subtle scent of salty musk from his tattooed body, their eyes met for the first time. A simple smile and a gentle introduction made Siyu's heart flutter, he was laid back and spoke effortlessly with a relaxed and friendly demeanor. Over the first two weeks or so sitting next to him, Eduardo had really helped Siyu feel less alone and less isolated, simply by being kind and taking the time to strike up a conversation with him.

It wasn't long before Siyu was beneath the bleachers in the basketball court, watching a sweaty, jovial Eduardo shoot hoops and practice with the team. It was no secret around campus that Eduardo was bisexual, having streams of girls as well as several teammates going in and out of his dorm room all the time. As mentioned before, the people around there talk, and from what Siyu had overhead, he was a giver and one of the best beds in town. This only added fuel to his fire, as his obsessive love for this sweet, oblivious jock boy grew stronger with each whisper of his name and bounce of the orange ball.

Thus it came to be on that Tuesday evening on a cold November night that Siyu decided to make Eduardo love him. Though, there was a problem. Outside of the obvious signs: him being on the basketball team, him fucking anything that moved, him always have the subtle whiff of reefer about him, and some of the company he'd keep, Siyu really knew nothing of Eduardo's interests. Worse even, the ones he did know about were far outside of his own. Siyu was simply too different of a person to snag his crush's attention. Thus, he focused on who did catch his eye.

Enter Ethan Lafferty. Ethan was everything Siyu wasn't: muscular, tall (even more than the 6'2 Eduardo), confident, cocky even. He was point guard on the team, and Eduardo's best friend. The two couldn't have been more different. Eduardo was sweet, kind, relaxed, a flirt, everyone's favorite guy. Ethan on the other hand, was brash, loud, dumb as a box of rocks, stank of a locker room at high noon, and spent most of his time either banging the entire cheerleading squad on a livestream or downing bottles of Jameson and snorting mountains of cocaine at some hole in the wall bar in the French Quarter. Despite their completely polar personalities, the two were nearly inseparable. It always came off as peculiar that such a stereotypical straight alpha dude bro would be best friends with a queer guy, even if they were teammates.

Siyu began to frequent the duo's hoop sessions, masked in darkness beneath the cavernous space beneath the seats, taking notes on his phone of what he could observe. In his mind, he saw himself as a horny, gay Jane Goodall: observing the hot boys in their natural habitat, and how they interact. Their relationship became clearer over time. Eduardo would be the first to arrive, sitting on the bench and scrolling through his phone until Ethan would burst through the gymnasium door, holding his smelly red shoes and making a loud fuss about whatever girl he'd 'bedded' the night before. The two would sit on the bench, side by side, laughing at Ethan's shitty and demeaning jokes while he threw his arm around Eduardo's neck and ruffled his hair. Even from the clandestine cave he'd hidden away in, he could see Eduardo blush just at Ethan's touch. It was beyond him what a brute like Ethan brought to the table, but Siyu realized whatever it was, Eduardo was into it. If being like that mouthbreathing, smelly dumbass was what would make Eduardo love him, then so be it.

He started to wear a gold chain and earrings, just like Ethan. Sure, the earring was a clip on, and the necklace was cheap plate, but Eduardo quickly complimented him once he'd noticed a few days into it. He started to wear athletic shirts and shorts, some that he'd stolen from the dormitory laundry bin of course, but he'd hoped the effect would sink in. Eduardo didn't take as much of a notice of this, and thus began the diminishing returns of Siyu's efforts. He stopped wearing deodorant, thinking his own pheromones would compete, which they didn't. Not even an acknowledgement. He sketched marker tattoos on his arm, saying he was trying out designs to see what worked. He received a raised eyebrow and silence. The more he tried desperately to impress Eduardo, the less and less it seemed to make a difference. Frankly, he noticed Eduardo pulling away. Their nice little chats before lecture started to disappear, the friendly knuckle bump he would get as they ran into each other in the quad quickly followed suit. The more he tried to be Ethan, telling oddly misogynistic jokes and sipping whiskey from his water bottle in class... the more Eduardo wanted nothing to do with him.

It made no sense to him. He was doing everything right. When Ethan did it on the court, or in the dining hall, or in the library, or even in his dorm room as Siyu had his ear pressed against the door; Eduardo ate it up, his big brown eyes looked at him like he was the most lovely creature on earth. When Siyu tried it, it was met with an awkward glance and a miserable nod. He was losing him. All the work was for naught. It was time to take drastic measures.

Siyu searched high and low through every academic paper he could find in that library to find a way to make someone love him. When that came up with dead ends, he searched how to change your personality, which supplied an equal amount of nothing. Psychology, philosophy, sociology, anthropology, neuroscience, even religion... nothing he found seemed to address his quandary. That's when he dug into the dark corners of the library itself: the occult, cults, mysticism, mythology, demonology... That's when he finally came across it. The key. The knight in shining armor. The solution to his problem.

Siyu was absent from class that Friday, the only day he'd ever missed in Chemistry. He was far too busy preparing for what was to go down that evening in the gym. From sun up to sun down, he was squirreled away in his dark dorm room, a single light on his desk illuminating the old archaic book. To his left, the culmination of his research, a small spray bottle filled with a strange yellow liquid. His trash bin was filled with empty envelopes from Indonesia, Mozambique, Paraguay, Lesotho, Norway, and Russia. Remnants of a shopping spree of esoteric ingredients so outlined in the ancient texts, all of which were less than simple and far beyond illegal to obtain. Though, to Siyu, it mattered not. This was to be his final act, there were no consequences that would matter after it was all over.

As 7:30 struck, as expected, Eduardo entered the gym, setting his bag onto the shining wooden floor and scrolling through his socials. Siyu crouched in his standard spot in the shadows, watching Eduardo's feet bounce absentmindedly mere inches from him as he waited for his friend. It didn't take long, as Ethan kicked open the door, shouting his typical "Bruh! You're not gonna believe what happened last night." Siyu turned off his ears, uninterested in hearing yet another story about ecstasy, booze, and his weird thing for Charlize Theron's legs. Instead, he took the little plastic cap off the spray bottle, and sat silently beneath Ethan as he put on his stinking shoes. As he sat there, talking about absolutely nothing of substance, Siyu spritzed his feet gently with the concoction. He didn't notice a thing, continuing to chide and play around with Eduardo as Siyu sprayed the back of his legs and shorts, then his shirt and finally the back of his neck through the holes in the bleachers. By the time they got up and began to play their game, Ethan was entirely unaware he was coated with the elixir.

Ethan and Eduardo had a particularly impressive match between them. Eduardo had to keep up with Ethan's frantic energy, which he'd never had a problem with before. Hoop after hoop, he would scream and shout, rubbing it in his friend's laughing face. It was their best hoop sesh yet, fitting it would be their last. Go out on a bang, thought Siyu, as that energy quickly began to deplete. Before long, Ethan had complained about his knee giving out before he could dunk.

"Fuck, bruh. I guess kicking your ass tired me the fuck out!" Eduardo laughed at his friend, pushing his head down as he walked past.

"Your coke is wearing off I bet. I haven't seen you play like that in a long time, man! What the fuck did you take?" Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, a subtle ache beginning to radiate at the base of his skull.

"I didn't take anything, fucktard! I'm just that good, and you needed a reminder." The two laughed like morphine-riddled hyenas, before plopping back down on the bench above Siyu. Their delectable scent washed down atop him like a waterfall of pheromones. "But I may need a minute, huhu."

"Yeah man, take a breather. Wouldn't want you to get too exhausted before tomorrow's game." Eduardo winked as he picked up his bag, saying his goodbye before walking out the side door, leaving Ethan massaging his aching wet feet on the bench. It was time. Siyu slowly made his way out from beneath the bleachers, his cheap shoes squeaking on the court as he approached Ethan.

"What does he see in you?" Siyu strolled over to Ethan, who chuckled to himself as he put his socked foot back into his shoe.

"Ahh fuck, man. What the fuck are you doing here?" Ethan was panting. To him, he had a hard workout. To Siyu, the elixir was working.

"You are awful, Ethan. You're rude, you're crass, you treat others like shit, and you smell. You're a real keeper, aren't you?" Ethan turned to Siyu, his indifferent expression melting away to indignancy. He jumped from his seat, ready to pound this 5 foot nerd into oblivion, until that damned knee gave out again, toppling him back onto the bench.

"Fuck. You better be thankful I'm tapped after that workout, fucker. You should thank me really, you'd be in the ground by now." Siyu stared with absolute apathy, knowing fully well he would not be brutalized by this waning star.

"You're scum, but he would do anything for you. I can't figure out why, trust me I've tried. But you have something going on in that empty brain of yours that he can't get over." Ethan turned and snickered under his breath.

"I know you. You're that little fuckin' cocksucker who's stalking Eddy, aren't you? See-who or whatever your fuckin' name is. Listen, buddy, I'll just tell you. He's not interested, alright? You have nothing he's looking for, so just leave him the fuck alo..." Ethan tried once more to stand, only for his legs to once again give out. "Fuck! What the fuck is going on?" Siyu smirked.

"I know. I'm not what he's looking for, again: I have tried. But you are what he's looking for, and you don't even see it." Siyu walked closer to the sweating jock, dripping from every pore as if he were in the throws of scarlet fever. "I've decided to do something about that, Ethan. You're no good for a guy that's as incredible and lovely and glorious as Eduardo, and I'm going to make sure that whatever it is you have that I don't gets put to good use." Ethan looked down at his legs, growing smaller and frail by the second. It looked as if he were melting, his skin sagging, his muscles deflating, his body just sinking into a puddle of sweat on the floorboards. Whatever slurs he wished he could launch at Siyu were caught in his collapsing throat as he gurgled and bubbled. Siyu watched with a gleeful malice, watching the top competitor sink into a puddle of his own fetid sweat. There was but one single glance of abject rage from Ethan's face before it too had plummeted to the ground, leaving behind his sopping wet clothes and a silent gymnasium. Siyu took a couple of seconds to just breathe and bask in his success. He looked down at the clothes and shoes, wafting his enemy's pungent scent, imbued by the puddle of his own essence he'd become.

Now full of excitement, with a pep in his step, he gathered the dripping clothes and shoes, slipping them into Ethan's gym bag before stealing away into the night. He quickly found himself bolting across the quad, hoping and praying no one saw him with another student's bag in his possession. Bursting into the dormitory, he ran up the stairs to his floor, taking a moment to breathe before he gingerly opened the hall door. Tip toeing ever so quietly down the carpeted hallway, praying at the last minute he wouldn't be caught by a languid R.A. or a drunk neighbor. The universe, it seems, was on his side that evening, as he unlocked his door and slipped in entirely unseen. Collapsing onto his bed, the heavy and damp bag sat next to him, radiating heat from within it's shiny plastic confines. It was time to finish this.

He turned to the bag, slowly unzipping it, allowing the dank, wet air within to rush out into his room. Ethan must have lived out of this bag, as it was filled with basketball shorts, sweatshirts, socks, shoes, blender bottles filled with protein shakes, and of course the lone sweat-soaked joint at the bottom. Siyu began shucking the wayward clothes onto his chair across the room, pleased to know he would have a couple of outfits that would fit him once this was all over. He emptied out the bag until the Ethan-infused clothes were all that was left in the bottom of the bag, swimming in a puddle of musky liquid.

Siyu smirked as he took out each piece, laying them out on the ground one by one. Tee shirt. Shorts. Disgusting jock strap. Ripe socks. Even riper sneakers. Finishing it off with the gold chain and single earring. It was all there. Rushing to his desk, Siyu grabbed the very last component to his plan: two facemasks, one white and one black. These two would be the final inoculation that would keep his changes permanent over time. Two weeks of breathing it in, letting it merge with his own essence, he would ensure that the new Siyu would be around long enough to ensnare his sweetheart. He bent down, picking up the jockstrap and a sock, both still dripping, and wringing out a sizeable amount of the stinking sweat to fall onto each mask. The stage was set, the materials were prepped, and it was time to make himself the perfect soulmate for Eduardo.

He started with the jockstrap. Even post-wringing, it still sat warm and damp, yellowed with the sweat and cum that had long sunk into it's fibers. Putting his two lithe feet into the straps, he nervously pulled up, droplets of the sweat rolling down his hairless legs before it fit loosely on his skinny waist. The change was immediate. There was no momentary ounce of silence and some slow change. No, his groin immediately ballooned out, the pouch quickly filling and pushing out tout against the wet fabric. His ass inflated loudly, the sounds of stretching and creaking rubber marked the expansion of his flat rear into two round and hairy orbs like basketballs on a shelf. Siyu gingerly groped his ass, dripping in sweat from the wiry hairs he'd never before had sprout out of his smooth skin. He cackled loudly, pulling the front strap forward, and peering into his hammock. He was met with a long, uncut python and two egg sized balls wafting out his new masculine cocksmell.

Now entirely intrigued, blinded by a sense of foreign hubris he'd long suppressed, he grabbed the shirt, slipping it over his head in one quick motion. The shirt quickly started to quake, turning from white to black, before his arms dropped like sacks of potatoes. Two firm pecs burst out from beneath the slick fabric, followed by his shoulders widening to twice it's former length. Siyu continued his moans of hedonistic pleasure, while his arms bulked up: firm but lean biceps and forest of hair growing from his forearms down to his wrists, before tattoos sprouted down his tan skin. He held out his hands, raucously laughing as his fingers lengthened, callouses appearing on his sweaty palms, and veins snaking wildly all the way up his arms.

"Interesting." Siyu's insane laughter ceased immediately. His eyes darted around the dark room, searching for the voice which had loudly billowed out of the shadows. "Fuck, bruh I thought I was dead fucking meat back there. But shit, it looks like you fucked up your little recipe didn't you?" Siyu's hands began to slowly clap, not at all under his full control.

"What the fuck? Where are you? How are you here?" His sweaty hand clasped over his mouth, sticking his middle finger into his mouth like gag.

"Aww, Siyu. What's wrong, buddy? You didn't wanna get rid of me, did ya? Nahhh. You wanted to BE me." His left hand grasped the shorts, slowly pulling them up his legs while his calves and quads burst out, covered in a thick carpet of black hairs. He shot up in height, easily breaking 6' 3" in seconds. He looked down, the height disorienting him as he gagged himself. "You got your wish, fucker. Kind of, at least. See, you thought you could turn me into a puddle and wear my shit, get all swole and dope as fuck, and what... He'd fall in love with you?" Siyu's eyes widened in terror. "Yeah, fucker I can see it all! I'm in here with you now. I can see how you jacked off to the idea of him plowing your ass after a long game. I can see how you followed him all over fucking town all the time. I can see how you thought some fuckin' magic bullshit would make you like me so you could force him to love you. Gotta say, that's some fucked up shit killing off your crush's best friend so you have no competition." Siyu's body bent over, picking up the socks, before plopping down onto the chair, surrounded by Ethan's clothes.

"See, you think I didn't know Eddy was into me? You think we didn't jack off together in our rooms when we needed a release? You think I wasn't into him too?" The hands slipped on the sopping wet socks, as his feet started soak up Ethan's sweaty essence, quickly followed by the nasty red shoes. As the laces were tied snug, his feet began to crack and swell, his arch growing tall and his toes lengthening out. Tattoos sprawled over the tops of his stinking feet and ankles, as the red fabric quickly turned orange, widening and lengthening even larger than Ethan's, until they were two massive size 15's. "Heheh, he likes feet, just so you know. Right when we get home after a long day, he loves it when I peel off my shoe and shove his face in it." Siyu felt his hand pinch his cheeks, and his middle finger caress his tongue in his mouth. "Thing is, Siyu, I was straight. I only had eyes for pussy, and fuck bruh, I knew how to stick my dick in it. I liked it when he sucked my nasty cock clean, but you know, it was just something between bros, you know?" Siyu slapped his meaty thighs, standing up tall and picking up the white facemask there on the ground. Tears ran down his terrified face as his own hands drew it closer.

"But now that I'm here, now that you and I are one, I think you may be right, dude." Siyu moaned against the hand over his mouth, just before it slipped out and grasped the other side of the mask. "I think we and Eddy are gonna be soulmates." He shrieked as the mask adhered over his nose and chin, and around his ears. Siyu could do nothing as he felt his brows lowering, his greasy hair falling out of his chiseled skull, quickly replaced by a sweaty black fade. His lips pillowed out as his long, meaty tongue licked them as he smirked with his pearly white teeth. Siyu could feel Ethan's consciousness wrap around him, like a tight latex suit compressing him tighter and tighter and tighter, until he visualize Ethan finally penetrating him. He pulled down his shorts and began to pump his greasy dick, while Ethan made himself at home inside of Siyu. Their traits intermingling with eachother- merging everything between them that would have made them distinct, now creating an amalgamation of both. As his balls began to shudder, pre cum dripping from his hooded cockhead, there was no more Ethan, and there was no more Siyu.

The first volley of spunk shot from his dick, memories of fucking gals on the weekends and guys on the weekdays solidified in his mind. Second volley of spunk, a sense of cocky self assurance swelled within him, though washed with a sense of empathy and camaraderie to mellow him out. Third volley of spunk, he was booksmart in his IT classes, but dumb as a box of rocks, choosing to funnel his free time out of class into the team and chilling out with his bros. Fourth volley of spunk, he loved Eduardo. That sweet, adorable, kinky little fuck was the apple of his eye, and he'd do anything for him. Though, he couldn't get too lovey dovey, he knew all too well that being chased and obsessed over was the quickest way to turn him off. He would happily tease, flirt, kiss, suck and fuck him, but he would let Eddy come to him. Fifth and final volley, his identity now centralized and firm: he was Shan Eoyang, a Chinese exchange student on scholarship for basketball. He was cool, he was hot, he was the golden hearted bad boy that made everyone around him go wild. The world was his oyster, and he would be there with his man by his side, and the various others who would worship at their sweaty masculine feet. He opened his eyes, and Shan took his first deep breath, taking in his own scent embedded into his mask.

"Fuuuuuuuck dude, that's good." He slipped his cock back into his dirty jockstrap, knowing all too well that Eddy would be into it when they finally met up. Bringing his fingers to his ears, he came perilously close to prying off his mask, though something in the back of his mind told him it probably wasn't the best idea. He pulled out his phone, not recognizing it whatsoever. It had his boyfriend's face as the screensaver, but it wouldn't take his password or fingerprint. Must be the previous tenant's phone, he thought to himself, as he opened the window and chucked it from the building. He'd run out and get one in the morning before class, as he had a bunch of scholarship money to burn.

---

Eduardo waited outside the basketball court, wondering where Ethan was. It was almost 8, and while he was never particularly adept at being on time, he would have at least texted. He looked down at his phone, scrolling through his Grindr, looking for whoever was available after hoops. Ethan would definitely let him suck him off in the locker room, but meh, that wasn't really going anywhere anyway. Thankfully, Siyu wasn't in class, apparently he'd dropped out from what the professor had said. At minimum he was relieved that the creepy little guy wasn't going to be following him home at night anymore.

Just as he was preparing to call it a night, the door burst open at the end of the hall. He turned to give Ethan a hard time for being so late, but the man before him was not Ethan. He was the tall, dark, and handsome archetype personified. He sauntered over to him with a confident stride, oozing a sense of pride and sexual energy.

"Oh... shit man. You uh, you caught me off guard. I was just waiting for my friend." The man approached Eduardo with smiling eyes behind the black facemask on his chin.

"You're Eddy, right? I'm a new student, just got on the basketball team. Coach says you might be able to show me around the place, if you're down of course? Name's Shan." Shan leaned against the wall, letting his hand rest on his neck, and smirking beneath the fabric as his sharp pit musk wafted at his gorgeous new teammate. Eduardo, happily letting in the stud's scent, lapped it up and shuddered.

"Yeah, man. I'm so down, I'm Eduardo. Friends call me Eddy." Shan leaned in close, their noses now inches from eachother.

"Eddy, then. Sounds like a good time, someone like you would probably be able to show me a lot." Shan winked, and Eddy blushed a bright red, nodding gingerly. "Well shit, how's about we shoot a couple hoops, we go back to my room and we show eachother around, what do you say?" Eduardo looked down, seeing Shan's massive well worn sneakers, which had inched their way to his own until they were firmly touching. Oh shit yeah, this guy was perfect.

"I say fuck yeah, man. Show me what you're made of." Eddy made the move, letting his fingers slowly touch Shan's forearm. Happily received, Shan ruffled his soon-to-be boyfriend's hair, as if it were second nature.

"Oh I'm gonna kick your ass on the court. We'll see what I do with it when we're done." He slapped Eddy's back, tossing his sweaty arm around his shoulder as the two walked into the court. They would be inseparable once again, and yet inseparable for the first time.