#(surprisingly great behavior for the time) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.

“So—are you a therapist?”

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously.

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked.

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least.

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”

One hell of a fucking coincidence.

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly.

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?”

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.”

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.”

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.”

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.

A different bar, same band; one night only.

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it.

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now.

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.

Who speaks first?

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.

But to Eddie, it's shame.

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.

It was exactly what you wanted.

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

9K notes · View notes

cherryrainn · 3 months

Note

Since hazbin is out can I have platonic headcanons with fem reader with alastor and velvette? Seperate please thank you 💜💜

ALASTOR AND VELVETTE PLATONIC HEADCANONS WITH READER .

pairing ; alastor + reader (platonic), velvette + reader (platonic)

note ; thank you for your ask!

warnings ; none

ALASTOR ★

he often surprises you with rare and antique radios that he finds during his ventures in hell.

alastor enjoys spending quiet evenings with you, listening to the old radio shows he loves so much.

he also often surprises you with old-fashioned gestures, like offering his arm when you walk together or holding doors open with a flourish.

it's his way of blending his peculiar charm with a touch of gallantry.

he's knowledgeable about classic literature and often recommends books for you to read.

you've engaged in many discussions about the great works of various eras.

despite his often erratic behavior, alastor is a surprisingly good listener!

you've found comfort in confiding your thoughts and feelings to him, and he responds with expected wisdom.

alastor often challenges you to friendly and harmless board games or card matches.

doesn't matter if you like them or not

you WILL play with him

alastor is an excellent chef!

so of course, you've had lots and i mean lots of his tasty food

VELVETTE ★

late-night gossip sessions are a common occurrence between you and velvette.

whether it's discussing the latest drama in media or sharing personal stories, you two can talk for hours without getting bored.

velvette is your go-to demon when you need a pick-me-up.

her energetic and lively personality never fails to lift your spirits, and she's always there with a shoulder to lean on during tough times.

velvette is fiercely protective of you, especially when it comes to dealing with judgmental demons.

she won't hesitate to shut down anyone who dares to criticize or belittle you.

movie nights with velvette are a FUCKIN blast.

her contagious laughter make every movie night less tiring.

like this girl laughs so loud

velvette often surprises you with small, thoughtful gifts that perfectly match your style.

it's her way of showing appreciation for your friendship and adding a touch of glam to your afterlife.

shopping sprees in pride's marketplaces are a regular occurrence with her as well.

#HAZBIN HOTEL #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel velvette #alastor #velvette #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #velvette x reader #y/n #reader insert #x reader #ask #headcanons #platonic

813 notes · View notes

littlejuicebox · 3 months

Text

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

692 notes · View notes

hoshigray · 8 months

Note

hiiii!! I loveee your posts!! can you write something about Tojo or Geto being extremely jealous to the point y/n wants to break up but they don’t allow it? I don’t know I can picture it in my head but I can’t write anything good like you 😭

....why not do both? (¬‿¬) ty for the love, sweetie ♡ hope ya like this one! tagging @neptunes1nterweb bc they asked to be, lol, ily sapp!! ☆

cw: Geto + Toji x fem/afab! reader - smutty, so minors, move. - fingering (f! receiving) - biting (ears + shoulders) - clitoral stimulation (fingers + toy) - imagery of taking pictures of your naked body - pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart) - overstimulation - use of a vibrator and rope to tie your hands (geto); oral/cunnilingus (f! receiving) - impact play; pussy slaps (3x) - toji being a tiny bit of a meanie + possessive - overstimulation - pet names (baby, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and pinching) - heavy depictions of being given head - mentions of spit/saliva (toji)

You love your boyfriend, you know you do. And you know he loves you just as (if not MORE) than you. There's never been a day where you'd doubt this love. His love...but this love does have its bad moments — like this one.

Your boyfriend tends to be quite possessive of you, to the point of jealousy. There have been times you'd try and excuse the behavior; he's just your partner making sure you're safe and that no one gets any funny business when it comes to you. If anything, it's his way of showing his seriousness about you, right? Well, that's what you've been trying to tell yourself all this time, even when bringing it to his attention, to which he'll brush off or reassure you it's for your own sake. But today? Oh, it was the last of it.

Your friends invited you to a party they were having, and you, being your good partner, invited your boyfriend to tag along. It was all of good intentions, no? After all, it's not like you planned on staying til things went crazy; just meet and chat with some old buddies, eat some bomb food, a drink or two at max, the usual. And things were going great doing just that; you stumbled upon a very old friend you hadn't seen in ages!! Excited to see his face again, you spent most of your time catching up with him on the living room couch and seeing how life's been on his end. The conversation was going swell, nostalgia getting the best of the two of you. So much so that your old friend got a little tipsy from his drink and got a little handsy — putting his arm around you when the two of you would laugh reminiscing old memories together.

However, your laugh ceased when his laughs turned to abrupt howls of pain. You'd then turn behind to see your boyfriend standing behind the couch, who ripped the poor guy's hand off your shoulder and is crushing his wrist with a deadly grip. Immediately, you'd stand to stop the commotion and excuse your friend for your man's actions (he surprisingly expressed forgiveness), and you two left that party. No words were exchanged in the car ride home, but you had your mind set at that late hour. There's no point in being with someone who's just going to be envious of anyone who has your attention — even old friends, for God's sake! This is it, for sure! Those were the words you went with as you stormed from the bathroom and into the bedroom where your boyfriend lies on the bed of your shared bedroom. With crossed arms and furrowed brows, you tell him these words with a confident breath:

"I think we should break up."

ʚ⁺˖↪ Suguru Geto

"Mmmph!! Ahhhnnn!! S-Suguru, stop!! Your hands, too fa—Ahhhh!!!"

"Hold still, baby." He coos to your ear before teasing it with a blow; shudders run down your spine from the breath play.

With your back to him and your hands tied with a rope, Geto uses this position to play with your vulnerable body. Your panties exposed for him to see, a wet patch blossoming more and more from the touches of his slender fingers as they roughly rub on your clothed, leaky cunt. The lacy material becoming drenched with your fluids, he has your body twitch on him, and he sneers at the pathetic display.

"Ohhh, fucking shit—hic..." Tears well up from shut eyes, the swift motions of his fingers increasing the pounding in your head. "Suguru, pleaseee, it's teww muuuch!!"

"Awww, is it?" He mocks your whines. "Serves you right, though. You scared me with what you said earlier. Breaking up with me after I was trying to make sure that guy didn't try anything funny with my princess?"

"Nnnnmm! I'm s-sorry, Suguru! But he was my friend, and you were bei—Iiiiieee!!!"

Your body jerks when Geto snakes his hand inside your panties, using a forefinger on your clitoris and rubbing harshly on the sensitive bud. You can just picture the cunning smirk with the chuckle you hear while he kisses your bare shoulder. "Well, your friend seemed to be a little too touchy for my liking. And you," Geto suddenly sinks his teeth into your shoulder, having your nude figure jump at the bite. He uses his free hand to keep a leg to the side, making sure your legs are wide for him. "You seemed too close with this friend, huh. You were practically making him blush the entire time."

Did I really? Was I being too open? You couldn't answer those questions; it hurts to think with your boyfriend's fingers inside your slit, fingertips grazing your spongey walls, turning your brain to mush. The squelching racket from your southern lips and his digits ring your ears to a lewd trance — it makes your face dial to an unbearable heat.

"Nnmaaa, Ahhhhh!! Suguruuu," a tear makes its way down your hot cheek. Geto hums into your ear, and you shiver as he nibbles on your lobe. "Pleaseee, forgive me...I should've known you were just there for—Mmmm! M-Me...I'm sorry, so please..."

It's best that you couldn't see Geto's eyes narrow at your apology, the bedroom light donning his dark orbs a purple hue. He snickers, "See? My Y/n is understanding. Such a sweetheart for me, huh." He lays sweet kisses down your neck. "You're forgiven. Not thinking about breaking up with me now, right?" You nod erratically, earning a hearty chuckle while he grabs for something on the side. "Good, but we're not done yet."

Your sweat runs cold when you hear a familiar buzz when Geto presses a button on a small remote. You turn to see a bullet vibrator, the mattress experiencing the whirr of its vibrations. And when he picks the toy up and brings it down to your inner thighs, your anxiousness scales to an all-time high.

But you're too late to voice concerns as the toy makes contact with your clitoris, the delicate bud unprepared for the touch of the cold surface and intense buzzing. Especially with him pressing down on your clit and bringing his fingers back into your vagina again, his digits scraping your tender walls, your orgasm hit you within seconds.

Your nude body bucks to the aftershocks of your climax, your cunt pulsing around Geto's fingers, and come coating his digits and sliding down to the sheets. The pitch of your wails descends with every exhale, your mind too fuzzy to think of anything else but sinking into your man's hold.

Geto rubs small circles on your clit with the vibrator; you gasp and try to squirm away, yet to no avail. "Did so good, princess. Kinda wanna take a picture for your friend. Show him how much of a great time you're having with me...I'm kidding, I'm kidding~, so don't cry. Okay, princess?"

ʚ⁺˖↪ Toji Fushiguro

"Hoohh!! Ohhhh!!! Tojiiiii!! W-Wait, I already came—Eeeyahhhh!!"

Toji's got you with your back to the bed, legs propped up by his hands, and your bare cunt not even centimeters away from his face. His mouth is situated on the folds of your chasm, tongue lapping around your slick walls, and nose brushing on the fragile button that is your clit. Your moans at a higher pitch than before as your man is feasting on you for another orgasm, his chin already painted of your come from a few minutes ago.

Your legs tremble from the pleasurable abuse on your sore nerves, yet Toji's hold prevents you from so much as writhing away from him. He lifts his chin from your sloppy cunt, licking traces of your come from the scar on his lip. "C'mon, mama. I know you can cum more than one time." He gives your inner lips a suck before swapping his mouth with his fore and middle finger, the two sliding into your vulva with ease. Your brows skewed down and mouth agape for moans to escape, Toji enjoys your disheveled display with a devilish grin. "Heh, look at you. Lookin' all pretty like this because of my fingers."

"Haaaahh, Tojiii, Ohh, Jesus..." You grip the sheets below as his digits swirl and pump to and fro into your cunt, difficult to breathe with the hot air surrounding you and heat spreading from your cheeks to your ears. "Pleaseeee, I'm too sensitive — hic — G-Give me a min—Ohhhooo!!"

"Aht aht aht, don't act soft on me now," he gives your slit a smack, the rough hit from his palm catching you off guard, almost choking on your breath. The stinging pain pushed tears to roll from hot cheeks into the pillowcase. "You already tried that with that lil' friend of yours. Lettin' that fucker get too close fr' my eyes, and then you walkin' up here actin' all high and mighty talkin' about a breakup. Where's that now, Y/n? Hmm?" He licks circles on your clit, having you howl his name in despair — music to his ears. "Did'ja let the kid make you forget who can make you crazy like this?"

You peer down — big mistake — to see his fierce emerald eyes honed in on yours. You chew on your lip at the helpless atmosphere you're drowning in. "Mmmph...Toji, please, I'm sorry. I—Ohhhh, fuck!!" Toji's fingers do a 'come hither' motion, skimming your walls with the tip of his digits. "I really am...You just made me really upset that time, but, Hmmmm...I love you, I love you lots..."

The smirk on his face gets broader. "Ya know I ain't mad at you, not with that cute face of y'rs." Toji kisses your inner thighs, lightly nibbling on the skin to make you yelp. "Just teachin' my baby a lesson." Another slap to your hole results in a sudden scream from your puffy lips. "Who does this belong to?"

"...you—Ahhhhhh!!!" A third smack.

"Louder."

"Yours!" Your voice sounds broken. "I'm yours, only yours..."

"Good," you flinch at the feeling of his palm on your slit again, but he soothes the pain away by rubbing gently. "Now you just sit still while I finish, 'kay, sweetie?"

He doesn't give you time to reply, stuffing his mouth on your cunt and sucking on your folds. The image of his raven hair buried down to your thighs and his gruff moans as he eats you out shed you into another level of embarrassment that you throw your head back to the pillow. The commotion between your legs and his mouth is the only thing you hear that suffocates your senses, along with the growing heat.

Tingles crawl up your spine. "Nnnmm, naaaaa, Toji, I'm so close, I'm gonna..."

Toji hears your pleas, a hand dragged to your clitoris, giving the swollen bud a few pinches while he resumes using his mouth to stimulate your heightened nerves for another release. And it comes in hard, choked sobs lashed out from your throat as your body is stimulated to experience your second climax of the night.

With his grip still on your legs, your body is forced to endure your crescendo, muscles tensing, abdomen tightening, and your essence being lavished by your boyfriend, his tongue moving to gather your come to drink and savor from your messy entrance.

And when things finally calm down with your body following a steady rhythm, he withdraws from you with a satisfied grunt. Licking the last remnants of you from his thirsty lips, he gazes down with a proud leer. "Always tastin' so fuckin' good fr' me, mama." He takes off his shirt, his eyes still honed in on you. "We're not done yet, though. Gonna spend all night makin' you go crazy fr' me."

1K notes · View notes

chronicbeans · 3 months

Text

Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #maladaptive daydreaming #alastor x reader #platonic headcanons

571 notes · View notes

lexsssu · 4 months

Text

Light (Sung Jinwoo)

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, a/b/o dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, death threats, breeding, impregnation, oneshot Ao3 ver.

‘E-Rank Hunter’ Sung Jinwoo, a title that followed him wherever he went.

Despite being a Hunter, his power was barely above an ordinary human aside from his slightly more durable constitution and slightly increased healing factor.

So it’s only natural that he’d always get hurt. Hell, he’d even nearly gotten killed several times already too!

It’s not that Jinwoo wanted to be a Hunter in the first place, because aside from the danger, others also made fun of him for his weakness. Even the pay was surprisingly not that great.

Unfortunately, someone in his mid-20s who lacked any viable skills that could land him a normal, stable job could only work for the Hunter’s Association as one of their Hunters thanks to their medical aid. Had it not been for that, he wouldn’t have been able to afford the millions of won in medical bills he owed to the hospital that took care of his mother.

It’s not even just his mother that he had to provide for, but there was also his little sister and…

“Look Yeonjin, it’s Papa!”

Worn out from another hard days’ work, E-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo felt all the fatigue in his body seemingly melt away into nothingness as the sight and scent of his wife and child soothed his weary soul.

“Baba!” Yeonjin babbled excitedly as his father made a beeline straight towards you both.

“Welcome home, honey.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling up at him with those beautiful eyes he always finds himself lost in.

This is why even if he didn’t want to, he would still participate in these Association supervised raids.

No sacrifice is too great when it comes to his loved ones and regardless of how incompetent he was as a Hunter, Jinwoo will do everything in his power to ensure that they are cared and provided for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been with Sung Jinwoo ever since you were both just awkward teenagers in high school. When his mother succumbed to Eternal Slumber and left the two siblings to fend for themselves, instead of leaving you surprised Jinwoo and moved into their cozy little home and took it upon yourself to keep the house running.

While Jinwoo did his best to provide for the family’s needs, you would ensure that Jinah and the house was taken care of, this of course also included the man himself whenever he came home from a raid. You even managed to get a remote job that helped with the bills in spite of juggling that with your online college classes as well.

You and Jinwoo had gone through so much together over the past decade so was it any surprise you’d end up married and with a child?

Former friends and schoolmates might have tried to dissuade you time and time again to leave him, pitying you for spending your youth making ends meet and watching over your comatose mother-in-law, Jinah, and now your own baby.

But you don’t need their ‘advice’ when it all basically boiled down to having you leave your family because you ‘deserved better.’

They are already what’s best for you.

Why can’t they see that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ How are you and Sung Jinwoo? Sorry I couldn’t check up on you guys sooner. Life’s been pretty hectic on my end.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your baby shower before! I had an important appointment that I couldn’t bail out on back then. Why don’t we go out for coffee to catch up?”

“...way too long since we last got together! Our whole class is gonna have a reunion this weekend. Everyone will be stoked to see you and Sung Jinwoo there— ”

Beep.

You don’t have the chance to reply to the latest call you received from another ‘old friend’ when your husband pressed the ‘end’ button in one swift movement. Though his face looked impassive, his scent clearly revealed his agitation…not to mention the shadows that seemed to curl spread from the soles of his feet.

“First they tell you that I’m not good enough for you and that you should leave me, but now they’re all tripping over themselves just to get to me through you…” His lips stretched into a snarl, power rolling off of him in waves at their blatant shamelessness.

Jinwoo’s inner alpha snorted and growled, the mere thought of these impertinent swine daring to involve themselves with his mate even if to gain some sort of favor from him made him see red.

How dare they?! He will rip and tear into their bodies and reap their souls to become his puppets if they so much as even approach you. Did they think he was bound by the rules of ordinary mortals? Foolish!

The hunter’s alpha grinned diabolically, cackling from within the confines of his soul at thought of giving them their just desserts.

“My big, strong alpha…Always willing to jump into the fray to provide for and protect us…How can I even think about choosing anyone else?” You crooned and purred at him, the soft sounds and your calming scent enveloping him and taming the shadows that once agitatedly tried to claw their way out of him to carry out his will.

Burrowing into his arms, you embrace his waist and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as best as you could considering his height had also shot up recently. A few soothing kisses and kitten licks against the skin of his neck later, Jinwoo’s darkness ceased pouring out of him.

Because now he focused on wholeheartedly pouring every last drop of cum into your quivering pussy, thrusting weakly even as his fat knot plugged you up. Your lower belly bulged with the amount of cum he’d already fucked into you, but he still didn’t think it was enough.

At the rate he was going, he’s definitely gonna knock you up again.

Not that you were complaining. It was about time for Yeonjin to finally have a sibling to love.

#lexsssu writes #solo leveling #solo leveling smut #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo smut #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #crossposted on ao3 #sung jinwoo x reader

1K notes · View notes

mavrintarou · 5 months

Text

[Daddies in Decembers] Sakusa Kiyoomi

I'm 4 days into December but thought, I should dedicate this month to the daddies being dads lol. This was not supposed to be this long, I can't guarantee that the other characters will have something this lengthy. Enjoy~

Warning: fluffy and dreamy Omi, Omi who knows how to waltz, Omi who is a beast in bed (we all know that though) smut . You met Kiyoomi a few months ago after you found out he was going to be your partner for your friend’s Bridgerton theme wedding. Your first impression of this man was that he was cold and unapproachable. He was always standing at a distance from everyone else and kept to himself.

“It’s normal, that’s Kiyoomi.” Hinako text you. She admitted that out of all the other bridesmaids, you were the best fit for Kiyoomi because of his attitude.

Engaging with people was usually a breeze for you, even when it came to strangers. However, Sakusa Kiyoomi was on another level. Despite your best efforts to connect with him for the sake of the wedding, he remained unyielding. His piercing glares suggested annoyance, and he rarely cracked a smile or engaged in conversation. Moreover, his face was often half-covered underneath a mask 99% of the time. Whenever you tried to start a conversation with him, he would only respond with a simple answer.

You immediately adjusted to his behavior and only engaged in a conversation when needed.

The exact moment you started feeling drawn to Kiyoomi was unclear. Hinako and Youta’s wedding required great preparation. The ten bridesmaid and their groomsmen were expected to learn how to waltz and participate in three of the dances that were part of the reception program.

Your initial waltz class with Kiyoomi was anxiety-inducing. Aware of his strong aversion to germs, you were uncertain about how he would react to holding your hand. Prior to the class, you took extra precautions by washing your hands three times.

It was the first occasion you had witnessed Kiyoomi in casual attire, excluding his sport outfits. Following the instructor’s guidance, he took your hand and encircled his other arm around your waist.

“Let me know if my hand positioning makes you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbled. You assured him he was fine.

Kiyoomi surprisingly showed great skills in waltzing. He picked up the steps and movements immediately and was praised by the instructor for how gracefully his body moved.

“Relax and just follow me,” Kiyoomi commanded softly after you struggled to follow the tune and his steps, stepping on his toes as a result. You looked up and your eyes nearly bulged when he said that he had his mask pulled down below his chin, giving you a full view of his face. “I’ll go at your pace.”

Just like that, two were the first pair to nail the first dance.

Your relationship began to flourish since that day.

You both dedicated extra time outside of dance class for practice, and in the private moments shared between just the two of you, a different side of him emerged – a soft side.

He was gradually growing at ease in your presence, evident in the way he would swiftly discard his mask as soon as he was around you.

“Closer,” Kiyoomi whispered, pulling you right against his body. “Remember, the instructor said we must be more intimate?”

“Waltzing should be intimate, I know you guys aren’t romantic partners but you all should try to put more emotions into it,” said the instructor at their last class.

Nodding your head, you relaxed and tried not to blush even more at how close you two were. You shift your gaze to his coffee table that’s pushed against the wall, anything to distract you from staring at his gorgeous face. The dance studio was closed for cleaning and neither of you knew until you arrived only to be disappointed at the sign on the door.

You were on the verge of suggesting that you guys could reconnect again in a few days, given your upcoming busy schedule with work over the next two days.

“You comfortable… coming to my place? It is nearby.”

You had to refrain from smiling, seeing how he couldn’t look at you in the eyes and his ears were bloodshot red.

“Sure,” you gesture, “lead the way.”

Each dance and song used to be a drag to you, but recently, you’ve discovered that you’re getting lost in the music and the steps, completely immersed in the dance. Before you realize it, you and Kiyoomi find yourself at the end of the waltz breathing heavily, locked in a gaze, deeply connected through the rhythm.

The moment it began was a blur, but gradually, you both discovered comfort and support in each other’s presence, sharing smiles and laughter as you immersed yourself in the dance.

“We did it,” you grinned, realizing that both of you had mastered the dance steps, reaching a point where mistakes were almost nonexistent. From the very beginning to the end, you and Kiyoomi seamlessly executed the waltz.

You aren’t sure if it was a mistake to look into Kiyoomi’s eyes but you did and found yourself lost in his. Your fingers itched to thread through his curls, brush your thumb against the two beauty marks on his forehead.

“Y/n,” he exhaled deeply. You realize it wasn’t due to the dance, as you had already caught your breath.

“… yes?”

His eyes shift lower, you feel them shift to your lips. “Can I – may I… kiss you?” Before you could answer, he quickly withdrew from you, turning away. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “that was stupid of me to ask.”

You closed the distance and tugged his sleeve to turn him around. He looked down at you with a frown and a frustrated expression. You ignored it all but what you couldn’t ignore was realizing how tall he was compared to you at that exact moment.

Looking around, his coffee table was right beside you. Without much thought, you stepped on the table, gripped the collar of his t-shirt, and pulled him towards you before pressing your lips against his.

It was a simple innocent kiss.

Until you were about to pull away but a hand wrapped behind your head, and Kiyoomi’s lips moved over yours in a hungry and deprived kiss.

“Mhmm,” you moaned, hands cupping his face. You move your mouth with his, eagerly meeting his kiss.

You both pulled away, breathless, more breathless than when you two waltzed together.

You pressed your forehead against him, realizing with you standing on his coffee table, you were slightly taller than him.

“S – sorry,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you,” you corrected, frowning.

“And then I kissed you.”

“But I’m not sorry?” You retort.

Everything shifted from the moment the kiss occurred. In the presence of others, Kiyoomi remained close, yet he retained his stoic expression, and nobody else seemed to discern the shift between the two of you. You found peace in subtle moments, such as when his hand gently brushed against yours or his pinky subtly intertwined with yours – a private exchange that went unnoticed by everyone else.

The wedding came around and before you knew it, it was the real dance.

You faced Kiyoomi, and despite having walked down the aisle alongside him earlier, you found it challenging to fully comprehend how handsome he appeared with his curls styled to the side, dressed in a sharp black suit.

Throughout the wedding, neither of you had the chance to share a moment together, let alone exchange a simple, routine kiss. Every time you two finally found a moment to gaze at each other for longer than three seconds, one of you would inevitably be pulled away for something else.

“You look stunning,” he whispered the moment you two closed the distance and were pressed against one another.

“You look dashing,” you smiled, following his steps.

You twirled around, your back pressed against his chest as you mirrored his steps. Your heart quickened as his hand firmly pressed against your belly instead of his usual place on your waist.

Kiyoomi nudges your head, making you tilt your head, your eyes closing in response as you feel the music and the dance. You felt his nose graze against your ear. In a quiet, low voice, he murmured, “I was starting to lose my patience because I couldn’t catch a second with you.” With that, he spun you back around, guiding the dance with grace. “I just want to be with you.”

For a few seconds, the others around you blurred and you could no longer hear the music. You stared deeply into Kiyoomi’s eyes repeating the words he just said.

In recent nights, you’ve found yourself foolishly attempting to unravel the sexual tension lingering between the two of you. Did he desire it as well, or were you the only one harboring such delusions? These thoughts began to weigh on you, leading to a sense of melancholy as you pondered what would become of your connection once the wedding concluded. You wouldn’t have an excuse to see him anymore.

Shooting your shot, you asked, “do you want to come back to my room tonight?”

Did he understand the hidden meaning behind your question?

What if he shot you down?

He blinked at you as if trying to comprehend what you just asked him.

Your ears began ringing and you felt embarrassed.

“Can we go now?” he asked shyly.

“Ahh,” you moaned, back arching as Kiyoomi pounded you from behind. You lost track of time, let alone how many orgasms he has squeezed out of you. “Ki – yomi… Kiyoomi – wait… slow down… ple – please…”

You two made it back to your room and all your clothes were discarded, mixing amongst each other and becoming a trail that led to the bed.

The headboard thumps loudly against the wall. It was the reality for you as to how deep and how hard he was pounding into you.

Your arms and knees gave in as your body collapsed onto the bed. That did not stop Kiyoomi and his movement, if anything, he continued and penetrated you deeper.

You were going to die. You are convinced of that.

“Omi… Omi,” you moaned into the pillow, you tried to lift yourself but it was useless. Each time he thrusted, he penetrated so deep into your body sending you over the edge. You were going to cum again.

The bed shook in waves with his thrusts as he neared his own orgasm. Your body bounced and each time you felt his cock deeper into your pussy.

Kiyoomi’s last thrust stilled and you feel him tremble as he came inside the condom.

His groans were cute, you thought to yourself amid the moment.

“What is funny?”

Did you laugh out loud?

You glance over your shoulder, seeing him tower over your back. His weight was supported by his knees and elbow but he remained deep inside of you.

“You’re a beast, Kiyoomi.”

He burst out laughing before rolling you both over. You ended up falling asleep in his arms, warmed and protected through the night.

You had worried for nothing as he asked you to be his girlfriend the next morning. He expressed his worry, the same worry as you, about not seeing each other once the wedding was over.

That was when he realized how he felt about you.

“I like you,” he tells you in his husky morning voice that you instantly fell in love with. “You made me feel things I never felt for anyone.”

“Is that why you set out to make sure I wouldn’t be able to walk this morning?”

He chuckles and you tighten your arm around him.

“I like you too,” you tell him after a few minutes of silence.

Kiyoomi tightened his arms around you and rolled you onto your back. “Say it again.”

“I like you,” you repeated.

It was hard for you to believe that this grinning from-ear-to-ear Kiyoomi was the same one you met a few months ago.

You lean up to kiss him, you love these new discoveries about Kiyoomi, his morning voice, his chuckles, and his smiles.

They say it takes about a year for you to learn the true nature of someone but some, you find their true nature a lot sooner.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not who you thought he was.

The icy and solemn man you initially encountered was far from the one currently resting on your lap, arms embracing your waist, his face nestled into your stomach.

“Don’t stop.”

You hummed while gazing down at the large puppy, thinking he had drifted off to sleep.

Instead of repeating himself, Kiyoomi grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head, wanting you to continue to keep petting him and run your fingers through his curls.

You giggle and continue to keep massaging his scalp, knowing he needs it after a long day of practice and dealing with his teammates.

Your husband of a month and soon-to-be daddy had become even clingier after the life-changing events of your wedding and your pregnancy.

He needed to be beside you at all times, even in the mornings when he was tired and you got up to prepare his lunch. He would grumble and cling on to you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you. Sometimes in the same position, he would chop up the vegetables while you made his sandwich, all while clinging on to you.

Despite finding it bothersome, you recognized that his love language centered around physical touch, only with you, of course. You endured his behavior because of your affection for him.

. . .

E/n: I try to write about other characters too and not just my usual Omi and Rin.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa smut #sakusa fluff #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #Sakusa Kiyoomi

885 notes · View notes

pandoraslxna · 1 year

Note

luna bby, craving for lo’ak angsty smut please give it to me 🌬️

The Fall

adult Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

Words: 11.5k

Summary: It was like falling off a cliff. A slow, steady fall and then the blinding crash. But in reality, a fall would’ve hurt less. Less than this.

Warnings: explicit smut, angst, friends with benefits, p in v, love confession, oral, begging, Lo‘ak being a switch, arguments, mentions of arranged marriage, one sided love, drunk sex, sleepy sex, handjob, creampie, praise kink, Lo‘ak is 26 & reader is 24, jealousy, possessive behavior, hair pulling, overstimulation, language barrier, teasing, sexual tension, (let me know if I missed anything)

Notes: this is probably my longest fic ever and I had so much fun writing it. Thank you mica for your request, it really motivated me to finally post this, I hope you like it! <3

Na’vi translations:

tanhì - (little) star, bioluminescence freckle

sevin - pretty

kalin - sweet

It was like falling off a cliff. A slow, steady fall and then the blinding crash. But in reality, a fall would’ve hurt less. Less than this.

The first time it happened was the day of Tuk‘s Iknimaya.

You remember that day like it was just last week. The clan celebrated her rite of passage and welcomed her and a handful of other young omatikaya into adulthood with a great fest. People were dancing, singing and the night was filled with laughter and stories told by the elder. The food was fantastic, but unfortunately, so were the drinks.

And Lo‘ak was never one to say no when there was liquor, especially not when Spider challenged to drink him under the table.

The night ended just a little sooner for the two of you, when Lo‘ak was on the verge of passing out and his father began worrying for his sons wellbeing. Probably worrying for his reputation too, but that was just how Jake was.

"Get this knucklehead home before he throws up and ruins his last chance to find himself a mate", he told you, shaking his head and trying to hide the grin of a father who was dwelling in memories of his own troublesome youth.

You remember how you had promised the olo’eyktan to bring his son home, but unfortunately, you were just as drunk. You had clung to each other, your arm around his waist and his arm thrown over your shoulder, stumbling and laughing all the way through the forest and you almost made it back to the village…

You don’t know how exactly it had happened. It was a moment of drunken weakness, jokes turning into something serious and one thing lead to another and then he had kissed you and you had kissed him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed before, but that was when you were kids. This time, it was different. And sometime between kissing and biting each others lips and hands grabbing whatever flesh they could reach— you somehow ended up tangled into each other, fucking your brains out, until you both passed out in the middle of the forest.

You remember waking up the next day with the worst headache ever, but your pain was quickly brushed aside when you cracked your eyes open to find yourself laying on a very familiar chest. You remember the panic you’ve felt, thinking this might ruin your friendship, that this was a mistake and it would create some unwanted tension between the two of you, that it would be awkward now. But surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.

It was still Lo‘ak when he woke up. Your Lo‘ak, your best friend, that weird kid you grew up with.

And it somehow just… it worked. It was just sex and you were drunk and he was still your best friend. No weird feelings and no awkward tension as you originally thought, you even laughed about the whole situation on your way back home. The next few days, you would snicker and glance at each other whenever someone questioned where you two had been at the end of the night and it was like some sort of inside joke between the two of you that caused people to roll their eyes in an "always the same with these two"-manner.

But then it had happened again.

And this time, you weren’t drunk. You were very far from that, actually.

Lo‘aks heart was beating hard in his chest, almost as hard as it was the first time he had kissed you, dizzy with the knowledge that this was something forbidden. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen.

He had sex before, obviously. Most of these times without any major feelings involved. Hookups nothing more and nothing less. But this was still different. You were his best friend and unlike the first time, he couldn’t blame what he was doing on any warriors drink now. He did it simply because he felt like it. Because he was horny and you were alone in the forest with him, to hunt originally, but you just looked so tempting. Forbidden things always attracted him anyways. And besides, you did it once already, so why not do it again? It would be a shame if he were to hold it in until he was back at home, just so he could jerk himself off, give himself an unsatisfying release– when you were right here.

It must’ve been something in the air that day, but by the flush of your cheeks and the way you had clenched your thighs together, he could tell that you were just as needy. So he made a move, not really thinking much about it, because he was more of a do now and regret later type of guy. To think before you act, that was Neteyam’s style and not his.

Lo‘ak had pressed himself closer to you, moving his lips on your own as if he tried to quiet down the thoughts and the doubts running through your mind. You were hesitant at first, didn’t move until he got one hand holding the back of your head, fingers carding through your soft hair in soothing motions, and the other on the small of your back, pushing your bodies together. It was then, that you finally wrapped your arms around his neck and a soft little moan escaped you, like you were finally letting yourself go.

And that brought you to a pause, returning you to the moment.

With a gentle push to his chest, you made Lo‘ak break the kiss. Taking a few steps backwards to put some space between the two of you, you leaned yourself against a tree and sighed, "Lo‘ak I’m… we can’t— we shouldn’t."

"Why not?", he chuckled and shrugged. It wasn’t a pressuring question, no, he was genuinely curious. "You’re hot and I’m hot and the sex was amazing the first time and we both know that we could really use a good fuck right now. Just imagine how–"

"Ew", you laughed, before you gave him a playful shove to his shoulder.

"What? So I can’t call my best friend hot?", he chuckled, "Okay then, I’m hot and your mildly attractive enough to–"

"No, skxawng", you laughed some more and shook your head, "I said ew because you called yourself hot." You had scrunched your nose and playfully reached for his hair, before you continued to tease him, "When’s the last time you washed those braids, huh? You’re not hot, you’re nasty."

There was a reason why you always felt so safe with Lo‘ak. He would never make you feel uncomfortable, no matter what happened, no matter what you did or said. It would never become awkward or weird between the two of you. You could kiss and fuck and fight but in the end, you were still friends, soulmates even.

"Oh please, we both know all the ladies love me!" Lo‘ak winked at you and you grimaced, causing both of you to laugh even more.

"Is that so?", you snickered, both of your eyebrows raised high in astonishment, "Why ask me then? Go and beg some of your 'ladies' if you want to get laid."

"Tanhì, c‘mon, you know what I‘m trying to say", Lo‘ak groaned and let his head fall back against his neck. He’s never been a man of many words and it was always so easy to win an argument against him. But still, you had to admit… he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Fuck.

Were you really that easy? Or were just that horny today? You were surprised with yourself that you actually considered this. It must’ve been just another moment of weakness and you really couldn’t believe it, but you actually found yourself agreeing to the few points that he made.

Actually, the idea wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You would both get your piece of cake without all the commitments and struggles of a relationship. It was basically just a hookup, but with someone you knew really well. And that sounded almost too good to be true. It sounded like possible trouble and problems.

But Lo‘ak was right, no matter how insane that may sound. It had happened once and your friendship was still intact, so chances were high this could actually work. Right?

You remember how you had sighed and rolled your eyes at him, as if you actually couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of your mouth, "Alright, alright… but we—"

But before you could even finish the sentence, Lo‘ak had pressed his lips against yours once again.

Immediately, you had leaned into the kiss too, allowing him to deepen it. He parted his lips, pressing harder against your mouth and you made a muffled sort of noise, to which he pulled away just slightly to let you speak.

"I didn’t agree yet", you told him panting, lips brushing against his as you spoke, but then you quickly leaned into the kiss again. You swiped your tongue against his bottom lip and he parted them, allowing you access to his mouth. "You can stop me if you want", he told you grinning, before your tongue curled around his.

"No", you whispered against his lips, "I don’t want you to stop." Lo‘ak chuckled at this, then reached down and his hands found the curve of your ass to grab a handful and squeeze. You were grinding yourself against him, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerked against yours. He was so hard beneath his loincloth, you couldn’t help but press yourself further against him, almost desperately so.

Without breaking the kiss, he carefully untied your top and pushed it aside, exposing your breasts to him. His cock throbbed when he felt the soft flesh of your chest in his hands, slowly running a thumb over one of your nipples, which caused you to shudder.

When he eventually did pull away from your mouth, his breathing was hot and heavy. He resisted the urge to lean forward and trap you in another kiss right away, in favor of showing your chest some attention.

"Fuck, you really have some pretty tits", he murmured as he lowered his head, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he licked a wet stripe from under your boob up to your nipple, where he closed his lips around it. He traced his tongue over it, gently bringing them to peaks. Your head fell back and you moaned when he tugged on a nipple with his teeth, especially careful not to hurt you with his fangs.

Once you had both managed to get out of the rest of your clothes, never leaving the other ones lips for more than a brief second, Lo‘ak had picked you up and pressed you against a nearby tree. You had wrapped your legs around his waist and he had pushed his cock between your wet folds. Your slick helped him along, as he was gliding the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

"Lo‘ak, please", you impatiently whined and he smirked, grinding himself there for a short while.

"You sound good when you beg", he had told you, voice low and barely above a whisper, and then he finally drove himself all the way inside. The stretch was delicious and you sighed, relieved to be so wonderfully full of him again.

"Holy shit", you heard him groan next to your ear, "I missed this– missed this tight little pussy so much."

You were clawing at his board shoulders once he had started fucking into you and if there was any doubt, that this was the right thing to do, it flew right out of the window in this exact moment. If there was only one thing Lo‘ak was good at, probably better than anyone else, then it was to fuck. And by Eywa, he knew how to do it. He knew how to hit all of the right spots, like he had spent the past twentysix years of his life studying your body like the map to a treasure.

You knew that a big reason for the sex being so great was, that you knew each other better than anyone else, better than any hookup ever would.

Lo‘ak moaned and cursed and whined, just as much as you did. You raked your nails up the length of his spine and he groaned, giving you an especially hard thrust. Your mouth fell open and he took the opportunity to sloppily kiss you again, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and you moaned into the kiss.

His hands were still firm on the back of your thighs, lifting you up and pushing you down onto his cock, until the tip was roughly kissing your cervix, making you mewl.

You almost sobbed as he angled his hips up a little, hitting that special spot right there.

"F-Fuck Lo, ah– I’m gonna, gonna come", you whimpered, "Don’t stop! Right there, right t-there!" He got the picture pretty quickly as he aimed just so, abusing that place that made you see stars. "Yeah? Right here?" His hips snapped into yours and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck for purchase.

"C’mon, mama. Come for me, I won’t last", he gasped, "You feel way too fucking good baby, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock. Do it for me, please, baby, c’mon please—“

The heat that pooled in his lower abdomen felt as if it would overflow at any second. You were so hot and wet, everything just felt so intense. Lo‘ak was moaning, literally moaning, without a care in the world because what else was he supposed to do when you felt so fucking good?

He felt your walls clamp down hard, your legs around his middle tensed and squeezed his waist and then his hips began to stutter too. Your eyes were closed tightly and your brows pushed together and then you choked back a sob and it felt like you were falling down a cliff and taking him with you.

You moaned his name as your orgasm hit you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist, you could feel every tremor of his hips. He had fucked you through it, his pace barley faltering for a second. And as if he had only waited for you to finish, as if he wanted to satisfy you first, he then finally came too.

And again, it worked. It had happened twice now and it worked just fine.

That’s when Lo‘ak came up with the glorious idea of adding some sort of 'benefit' to your friendship.

On the same day, you came up with some, let’s call them 'rules', regarding your dirty little agreement. Lo’ak said it was more of a do‘s and don’ts list but whatever, in the end it was the same thing. It contained things like, what you were into and what not and things that he enjoyed, his boundaries and visa versa. There were also a few major rules that you both immediately agreed on. One of them being, that if either one of you would ever get into some sort of relationship or were to mate for life with someone, then your agreement would end and it was back to you just being friends. Apart from that, both of you could end this at any time, no questions asked.

Another big rule, basically rule number one, was that this would and will always be just sex. No feelings were allowed, no feelings were involved— don’t even think about catching them. In this case, they were a deadly disease. They were to avoid, forbidden and unwanted. Your friendship would remain untouched from this agreement, no matter what. It was just sex.

Naturally, because how else was this supposed to go, it became pretty messy after that day…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The thing that Lo‘ak hated most about his brother was, that he was always right.

"Have you lost your mind?", the hiss of Neteyams voice had startled him, and Lo‘ak tried his best to act composed. But of course he failed miserably to do so, starting from the way he almost choked on his spit. "Please don’t tell me you sleep with her", Neteyam was almost whispering, but his voice was laced with anger as he furiously pulled him to the side, away from any possible unwanted listeners.

"W-What? With who? Of course I don’t, bro."

Yeah, that pretty much gave it away already…

There was a pause, like Neteyam was considering if he really wanted to dig any further and probably get involved into something he didn’t want anything to do with. Well, it was too late for that anyways, he thought.

"I saw her sneak out of your marui just this morning, when I went out to hunt", his brother sighed, "You still lie like you’re five years old, baby bro."

Lo‘ak swallowed dryly, shoulders tense as he shrugged them, "Okay, and?" There’s this thing that he does, like pulling up a facade when he gets cornered. Lo‘ak then likes to act all cool and tough when he feels everything but. "Yeah we do it from time to time, what about it? It’s just sex", he shrugs again, avoiding all eye contact, because he knows the look he would find in his brothers face if he would dare to glance in his direction.

"Lo‘ak", Neteyam starts and said brother rolls his eyes at the lecture that’s about to follow, "You’re gonna loose her as a friends if things go wrong. You know that, right?"

Yes, he knew that. They shouldn't keep doing this, they really shouldn't, but they do. And they kept doing it.

Neteyam had warned him… But unfortunately, his brother had already replaced his brain with his dick.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lo’ak was maybe, just a little bit, kind of an idiot.

Okay, he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was a complete and total idiot. How could he let this happen? How could he have allowed this to build over the past few months, without even considering that things would inevitably go this way?

It wasn’t until months, probably even a year later, that Lo‘ak first realized something had changed. He couldn’t pinpoint just yet what exactly that was, but he knew it had something to do with you. More so, with the way you were interacting with others. And by others, he specifically meant other men.

He had seen you flirt with other guys– even more frequently, he’s seen other guys flirt with you before. Hell, he used to be your wingman once. But that was before your little agreement. That was when you both still had to put in some actual work in order to get laid. Which made him wonder why you were even allowing this guy to flirt with you. Why not come to him instead? That would’ve been much easier. That’s what your agreement was there for, he thought.

Okay, just because you were batting your pretty long lashes at some random guy, that wasn’t even that good looking, didn’t mean you wanted to sleep with him. And it wasn’t against the rules either. Truth be told, Lo’ak had no idea why it was bothering him so much. It wasn’t his business after all.

Still, there was something about the way that guy looked at you, that made his stomach turn into a tight knot. Suddenly, there were spikes of rage, fear, possessiveness, sadness— all mixed together and fogging his mind so much, Lo‘ak could barely think as he approached you.

Laying an arm around your shoulder, he briefly stopped your little conversation, making you look up to him now, instead of that guy. "Oh, hey", you smiled at him, but there was a hint of surprise written on your face that he didn’t miss.

Neither of you had anything against the close proximity, the public display of affection. But that was mainly because Lo‘ak played it off as a friendly touch- brotherly even. And that’s exactly how it looked like to others, that’s what it looked like to you– just Lo‘ak being close with his best friend. Being physically close to one another was definitely not unwanted or unnatural to either of you, not even in public, but it still caught you off guard in this moment.

"Hey, sorry, uhm, can I borrow her for a while? It’s urgent", Lo‘ak told him, pressing his lips together into a thin line and forcing a half hearted smile to appear. He then turned his attention back to you, "Walk with me?" Thankfully, you didn’t question his intentions any further and nodded, excusing yourself.

Whatever that guy’s name was, Lo‘ak didn’t really care anyways, then reached out and gently caressed your upper arm as he said his goodbye. It was an innocent gesture, nothing more than a second passed when his thumb brushed over your skin and he knew that you probably didn’t even noticed it. But still.

It felt like Lo‘ak had been shot in the chest.

And then it finally dawned on him. He was jealous. No— No way.

That had just been a slip of his thoughts, right? Something accidental in the moment? He was pretty sure he was just confusing something here. There was no way it was really the case. There was no way he was jealous. You and him both, you were just in it for the sex. And jealousy, jealously meant feelings. And there was no space for complicated things like feelings here, which was why it was impossible for him to feel jealous. Really.

"That guy looked at you like he wanted to fuck your brains out right there", Lo’ak said, his Na’vi accent still lingering on his voice even after all these years of speaking the sky peoples language so fluently. "And I hated every second of it. Made me want to puke."

His fingers continued to pump in and out of you as he spoke, two of them buried to the last knuckle in your sopping cunt while your juices were running down his wrist. It was good that you actually believed that the thing that was so urgent was the raging boner under his loincloth and not just an excuse to get you away from that guy as fast as possible.

"You know I hate when you do that", you murmured, breathing heavy and eyes half lidded as you glanced down on yourself to meet his eyes. Your brows were furrowed, but Lo‘ak had no idea if that was because you were trying to glare at him or if you were just feeling good. He definitely hoped it was the latter.

"Do what?", he asks, before he retreats his digits and attaches his lips back to your clit instead, making your hips jolt.

"Lo‘ak", you say his name like a warning, or at least that’s what you intended to do, but it comes out as a moan instead.

It was funny that you still refused to learn the sky peoples language, even after so many years of living side by side with them. You just never felt the need to, never participated in anything that would require you to understand it. Most of the humans living in high camp were almost perfectly fluent in Na‘vi, so it wasn’t really necessary anyways. Lo‘ak on the other hand spoke their language like he grew up on earth. And he loved to take advantage of this. He did this since you were kids— indirectly talking to you, in a language that you didn’t understand. He did it whenever there was something he wanted to tell you, when there was something on his mind that he needed to say out loud to get it off his chest, without actually wanting you to understand it.

"You’re so easy to tease", he chuckles, before he guides your hips lower, making you sit on his face properly. Immediately, his tongue darts out to lick a wet stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit and you gasp. Your hands find purchase on the top of his head, fingers gently combing through his hair as you move your hips in slow circles. The forest ground is hard beneath your knees, but you barely pay it any mind as you chase his tongue with your clit, grounding yourself against it.

"Dude", you swallow thickly, a breathy chuckle leaving your parted lips and then you carefully lift yourself off of his mouth to give him the opportunity to respond, "say it so I can understand or I’m going."

Lo‘ak knew you wouldn’t leave, not right now. Not when he was devouring you like a starved man. Not when you were dripping all over his face, needy and wanton for a quick release. He chuckled and the comically sight of him peaking out from between your thighs was enough to make you giggle.

"I said, I heard he has a small dick. Just wanted to give you a heads up before you get disappointed", he said with a sharp grin.

"Who said I was going to sleep with him?", you asked in a teasing tone to which Lo‘ak bit the plush inside of your thigh.

"You looked like you wanted to", he murmurs, "And you were wet before I even started. Like you’ve been thinking about it."

"I might as well go and ask him then, if you don’t stop with all the talking a-and… oh fuck", you were interrupted when Lo‘ak closed his lips around your clit again and sucked. He hungrily kisses the little nub, flicking it with his tongue and just as you’re about to move your hips and ride his face, he stops again.

"And? Go on, sevin. I‘m listening", Lo’ak chuckles, causing you to glare at him. Leaning back on your palms, you feel for his cock behind you. Once you get a grip on his hard erection, you stroke him, once, twice and then squeeze his shaft just a little harder than necessary. You feel some of his pre-cum leak and drip over your knuckles and the whimper that escaped the man between your thighs is enough to make you grin. "Okay s-sorry, sorry", Lo’ak groans and allows you to lower your core against his face again. With a gentle tap to your thigh he gives you permission to move, ride his face as you please and that’s exactly what you do.

You feel his nose bump against your clit, while his tongue prods at your entrance, lapping on your sweet juices before he begins to tongue-fuck you. Lo‘ak has always had a smart mouth, but just a few months ago you realized that talking wasn’t the only thing his mouth was incredibly good at.

No, there was really no way Lo‘ak was jealous. This right here, this was all that it was. You were both just in it for this, the sex. Making each other feel good, using each other for pleasure and nothing else.

Except now you were dragging yourself across his face, head thrown back and humping his tongue like you were in heat. When you came, your eyes flew open and you looked down on yourself and Lo‘ak made the mistake of glancing back up at you. And then your eyes met and you, you just looked so good, so pretty as you fell apart for him— because of him. With little beads of sweat on your temple and eyebrows scrunched together, your delicate fingers tugging at his braids. You weren’t even touching him properly, his dick laying heavy against his stomach, twitching and the tip swollen, turning purplish and leaking pre in streams, completely neglected of all sort of touch. But he still came, thick spurts of warm cum shooting up and landing all over his stomach with a loud groan. He really just came just from watching you, just from feeling you and making you feel good. He came completely untouched simply because he made you come.

And that’s when Lo’ak realized he truly fucked up…

Now that he was aware of it, Lo’ak knew that this had been going on a lot longer than he was willing to admit. And now that he could finally put a name on it, it was especially hard for him to keep it together.

He was a lot more clingy than before, something you probably realized right away but simply chose to ignore for whatever reason. Physical boundaries hardly ever existed in your friendship anyways and his touch was never unwanted, so you didn’t mind it.

It was when Lo‘ak’s friendly teasing and the affectionate bullying that went back and forth for all these years suddenly turned into genuine compliments. That’s when you started to become suspicious. It was just once or twice that it slipped. A friendly, innocent, "you look so pretty today", that wasn’t moaned in the heat of the moment or said lowly, whispered in your ear to rile you up. It was sincerely, said with a smile and your brows instantly furrowed. Lo‘ak quickly realized how out of character that must’ve sounded and brushed it off with a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek and cursing himself. From now on, he would have to be more careful not to let anything like that ever slip again.

But he sees the way you’re looking at him now. Like you’re trying to communicate with your eyes, trying to tell him to stop whatever he was doing and don’t– don’t catch feelings. Rule number one, Lo‘ak. Don’t fall in love.

But it’s too late already.

Lo‘ak was head over heels in love with you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Come over", you heard his voice coming from the small ear piece he had gotten you a few years ago. It was an older throat com model that would’ve ended it the trash if it weren’t for Lo‘ak to snatch it from Norm and give it to you instead. It was nice to have some way to communicate with each other, when one of you were on patrol or away with the war party. It also bought you a lot of comfort, knowing that your little dumbass was still alive when you weren’t there to keep him from doing dangerous things.

But now, it wasn’t just used as a simple form of communication when either one of you was away. Now it was also used to locate the other when things got a little… hot.

"Lo‘ak… it’s the middle of the night", you groaned, barely able to keep your finger on the speaker button before you halfway drifted off to sleep again. You hear something rustle on the other end of the line, some movements and a breathy laugh before he speaks again, "I‘ll be quick, I promise. Please, tanhì." He sounded a little whiny and you couldn’t help but smile.

"You’re always quick", you joke and then you hear him chuckle a soft, "ouch". It’s silent for a while and it’s like he knew you were considering it, because you literally felt the grin on his face, even when you couldn’t see him.

"Okay", you finally sighed, "But you will come over! And you‘ll have to do all the work. I‘m too tired to move."

"You’re the best! I‘ll be there in two."

Lo‘ak showed up to your marui in a heartbeat, no surprise, letting himself in as if he lived there with you.

You were half-asleep again, your thoughts syrupy-slow and you barely registered how he settled himself next to you, curling himself around your back. Lo‘ak presses himself against you and he’s warm and his breathing fans against your ear. Fit together like this, you could feel your bodies responding to each other. Arousal begins to heat your blood when you feel his erection poke against your back.

"Hey," he whispers and you turn your head to kiss him. In the dark, you only manage to kiss the corner of his mouth, where his lips are curved into a smile.

It’s him who leans in to try again, and then your mouths finally meet. It’s less than a kiss and more of a tired, pressing together.

Thankfully, Lo‘ak doesn’t waste another second of keeping his hands to himself, before you feel his fingertips ghost over your hips and move towards your core.

"What’s got you so needy in the middle of the night?", you giggle as you drape your thigh over his, spreading your legs to make room for him, "Couldn’t sleep?"

"Oh no, I did sleep", he chuckles, "Had some very nice dreams actually."

His hands move to pull the cloth aside that covers your private parts. He doesn't need to see your face to know that you’re smiling lazily and he places a kiss on your neck, enjoying how you tilt your head to accommodate him. He could spend all night just feeling you, getting you slowly worked up but this wasn’t the time. Lo‘ak knows you’re tired and he’s afraid that if he took his time, his actions would come across as too lovingly and that you would get suspicious again.

"What did you dream about?", you ask him, voice low and seductively.

About you. I was dreaming about you.

"Hm dunno. Can’t really remember much, just that I woke up and…", he grinds his cock against your lower back, letting his body speak for him and you hum.

You’re sleep-warm and pliable, so willing to be manhandled that it drives him insane. His cock is so painfully hard, it’s been hard for hours just from thinking about you.

Lo‘ak shifts to cup your sex with his hand, fingers gently swiping through your folds and feeling for your wet entrance. He coats his digits in your slickness, two fingertips prodding at your entrance before he sinks them inside. You gasp at the sudden stretch, toes curling when he begins to move them.

"S-shit, baby I need you so bad", he whispers against your ear, "m'gonna fuck you so good."

"Please", you whimper and he feels your walls squeeze around his digits when he curls them just right, hitting that spongey spot inside you. "Fuck me Lo‘ak, please, please I need it", you sleepily brabble.

Lo‘ak feels how hard his heart beats against his chest when you moan his name, almost like it wants to escape his body and fly away. It would be so much easier that way. He wouldn’t have to feel the guilt that’s eating him up inside, making him feel dirty and wrong when he breaks the most important rule you’ve both so strongly agreed on. He’s not using you for pleasure anymore, it’s not a give and take and it has turned into something different. For you, nothing has changed. But for him, for him it’s so much more than just sex now.

Lo’ak wonders if that makes him a bad person. He’s not only breaking the number one rule, but ignoring one of your boundaries too. And respecting them used to be– no, they still were his priority.

He feels bad about what he’s doing, yet he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t bring himself to end it, because Lo‘ak feels like he can be more honest with his body than his words. You would probably never realize it like that anyways and for now, he’s fine with that. He would willingly take the guilt, if that meant being able to feel you, being able to have you like this whenever either one of you desired.

Your breathing is decidedly less even by the time he's finished getting you thoroughly wet and he can't wait any longer. He lines his cock up with your slick entrance and slowly pushes forward, until he's completely buried inside. Lo‘ak takes a minute to savour it, his head tucked in the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent. It has grown more intense, so rich and sweet, since the day he realized he felt something for you. It was like your body called for him.

He then pulls out just a few inches before he sets his pace, lazy and deep strokes, and you draw your knees up to give him better access. His next thrust hits you in an even better spot, if your quiet gasp and the sweet little mewl is any indication.

Lo‘ak slips a hand down your body to stroke your clit and the second his fingertips begin to move, he felt your wall squeeze hard around his cock. "Fuck, that’s it’s baby", he groans lowly, "I fucking love when you do that, you’re so tight. Do it again, c‘mon." He gives a light tap to your clit and your hips jerk. You flex your pelvic floor muscles as best as you can, earning a breathy moan from him.

Lo‘aks head felt dizzy.

He was completely absorbed by the feeling of your sweet little pussy. It seemed to lovingly embrace his cock, to massage it and cling to it whenever he dared to pull out just a few inches.

Slowly, his pace increases, until he’s moving his hips fast and hard, panting heavily. His face was bright with arousal by now, bare chest wet with sweat and it felt so, so fucking good. Nothing on Pandora could ever be compared to this feeling, to the tight clutch of your pussy and the noises you made just for him.

Maybe… maybe he should tell you.

No. No, that would only make him feel worse, because there was only one way this would go. Lo‘ak was the one that had started this and he would be the one to end it, if he were to ever confess his true feelings to you. No, he couldn’t tell you.

When Lo’ak opens his eyes, he can’t take them off of the bioluminescence freckles decorating your skin. His free hand comes up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh and gently tugging on your nipple. He loves the freckles on your chest the most. It’s like a path, a pattern, leading all over your body and he wants to kiss every single one of them.

You’re so pretty and no one knows you as well as he does. Lo‘ak doesn’t know anyone else like he knows you— body and mind, all of you.

That’s why he knows to dive down and press more kisses to your throat and why he knows just how to touch your sensitive clit, how to circle that little bundle of nerves just right. When you moan from the sensation, Lo‘aks body shudders in response, like your pleasure was ultimately connected to his own.

"C-Coming, Lo I‘m… oh fuck I’m coming", you whine and that’s what snaps him out of his thoughts. He feels your legs tremble, how you hold your breath and more slickness begins to seep out of you and then it crashes through you.

It’s a feeling of pure bliss for him, to know that your coming on his cock, that he’s the one making you feel like this. He’s relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper and sob, reaching down to try and shove his hand away because he’s starting to overstimulate you. It doesn’t seem to stop him.

"Give me one more, please tanhì, come for me again", Lo‘ak groans next to your ear, adding just a little more pressure to your clit to make you cry out and shudder from each firm, deep stroke of his cock. Your inner walls cling tightly to his shaft, squeezing him, flexing around his warm, intruding length, coaxing him deep inside with each thrust.

"Shit– you feel so good, I’m gonna cum too!" His eyes were foggy with lust, and his shaft twitched and throbbed wildly inside you. The velvety-soft feeling of your walls was enough to make him forget everything but the pleasure he craved. Lo’ak wasn’t himself anymore. Everything about you made him lose his mind further. He was working single mindedly towards his orgasm, desperately thrusting over and over into you, chasing the ecstasy of his oncoming climax.

His fingers worked roughly over your clit, fast and tight circles that made you forget to breathe until you felt another orgasm approach quickly.

"Oh fuck, fuck yesyesyes", you squeaked and even in the dark, Lo’ak could see your eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure overtook you again. He feels your walls spams around him and that’s what finally tips him over the edge too.

Lo’ak buries his face in the crook of your neck, moaning something so low and garbled that you barely picked up that it wasn’t said in Na‘vi. You didn’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you slowly came down from your high.

It took Lo‘ak a significant amount of time to finally pull out of you and rearrange his clothes. You barely moved next to him, breathing now even and calm and he knew you were on the verge of falling asleep. He moves as quiet as possible as he pulls his arm out from under your head to get up.

"It’s almost morning, you ass", you tiredly mumble while turning from your left to your right side, "I have to get up at sunrise.”

“Worth it”, he whispers more to himself than to you, a big grin plastered on his face.

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Lo’ak snickers, making his way towards the entrance of your marui.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you then say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say, you know, earlier? I was kinda… preoccupied and didn’t hear.” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice.

“Kinda? You wound me,” Lo‘ak says, placing a hand over his heart and pouts playfully. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, skxawng?”, he chuckles and then shrugs, causing you to roll your eyes. Before you can reply, though, you yawn. Seeing that Lo‘ak was still standing in the doorway leaves you tempted to throw something at him to finally get him out. You really needed some sleep now, at least for a few more hours.

"See you later?"

"Yes, yes now get out", you wave him off, voice muffled against the furs, that you used as a makeshift pillow, you had now buried your face in.

Lo’ak then finally turns and heads out. But as soon as his back was facing your marui, his playful expression slackens. His brows scrunch up as he walks back to his own tent, staring at the ground in disbelief, hands balled into tight fists on his sides.

I love you.

I love you, was what he had gasped into your neck when he was too overwhelmed with the smell, the taste and the feeling of you. Fuck.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lo‘ak was fuming.

His father couldn’t have picked a better timing for this sort of conversation. Ever since he completed his Iknimaya, years ago when he was welcomed as an adult in his clan, his father had urged him to find a mate. He would ask again and again, introduced all kind of women to him. A few years ago it was embarrassing, having your father make you talk to girls. But now it was simply annoying.

There was a short period of time where his dad had stopped asking, but for whatever reason, he had decided to try again, just a few weeks ago. And that, at the worst timing possible.

"So… you still don’t like any of the women your dad wants to set you up with?"

Your voice was soft, carefully even, as if you walked on tiptoes around him. Speaking to him like he was made out of glass. It made him feel vulnerable and he hated it. He hated it, because it felt good that you allowed him to be vulnerable. Speaking to you always made him feel so much better. But now he realized, that moments like these only made him fall for you even more.

"No", he simply said.

Lo‘ak laid on his back, hands folded over his stomach as he glanced up to the crowns of the trees. A few rays of sun shined through the thick leaves, warming and tickling his skin where they touched him.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you turned to face him. "What about Rena? She seems like a nice girl."

"Rena is fucking crazy", Lo‘ak told you honesty, "Tarem told me she’s super jealous and I’m not into obsessive woman. I need my freedom, you know?" She wouldn’t let me continue to stay friends with you, was what he intended to say.

A deep sigh left your lips and that’s what brings him to finally look at you. You had moved into a sitting position, cross legged, while braiding a loose strand of your hair.

"Sure you do. Have you even met any of them yourself before you judge?"

Lo‘aks brows furrowed before he spoke, his hands wildly gesturing with every word, "I‘m just not ready for a commitment like that. Choosing a mate for life that’s– that’s a lot of pressure. I‘m still young, there’s plenty of time!" His tail trashed against the ground, clearly irritated. It wasn’t like he was lying. He really wasn’t ready for all of that— but the fine difference to make it the whole truth was, the he only wasn’t ready for such a commitment… if it wasn’t with you.

"How come your parents don’t make you choose a mate? You’re just two years younger than me!"

"Well, probably because I’m not the olo’eyktan’s son", you chuckled.

"Neteyam is next in line, not me", Lo‘ak grumbled and again, you sighed.

"I know that myself", there’s a long pause as if you were trying to choose your next words right, "Lo‘ak, your father is just trying to give you the same happiness he has with your mother. You—"

"My dad is just trying to set me up because he thinks that will make me stay out of trouble", he interrupts you, probably a bit too harsh for his own liking. Lo‘ak wanted to punch himself for the way you looked at him now. "I’m sorry, kalin. Can we… can we just like, not talk about this anymore? I wanted to see you because I didn’t want to think about this right now."

This. This meant, the thought of loosing you to someone else. Having to choose someone as his mate that wasn’t you.

"You’re right, sorry", you quickly apologize with a smile, a genuine smile that warms his cheeks. Lo‘ak inhales a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if that would make him forget the world around him. Forget you.

The gentle touch of two soft, warm palms on his thighs then snaps him back to reality. Opening his eyes, Lo‘ak props himself on his forearms to look at you. You had settled yourself closer to him, your hands now gently massaging his upper thighs and ever so slowly, working themselves further up.

"What are you doing?", he chuckles with the tilt of his head and some of his braids sway over his shoulder with the movement. The smile on your lips is smug and he knows that look on your face, like you’ve planned something.

"Hm, I don’t know", you shrug innocently, "I was just wondering if there‘s anything I can do to make you feel better?" The seductive tone in your voice makes something stir inside him, yet he can’t do anything but smile weakly.

There’s nothing he wants to do more right now than to feel you, hold you close and loose himself in the pleasure that you provide, but the thought of loosing you to someone else, the thought of his destiny being with someone else still lays heavy in his heart.

"I don’t know if I’m in the mood for this", he sighs.

"Not in the mood? You?", you gasp jokingly, "Who are you and what did you do to my Lo‘ak?"

My Lo‘ak. The words make heat creep up his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

Sometimes he forgets how well you know him, and then he’s reminded of it at the worst possible moments, like right now.

The sex was one thing. But to have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy. Something he wasn’t willing to loose.

Still, Lo‘ak doesn’t resist when your hands move further up, massaging the muscles of his thighs and caressing his skin. It just feels so good, he can’t help but let it happen. He watches in awe as you inch closer to him, untying his loincloth to let his half hard cock spring free. You don’t even hesitate to reach out for him, both hands closing around his shaft to feel him grow fully hard in your palms as you begin to stroke him. Lo‘ak mutters some quiet curses, watching how you let spit pool in your mouth before letting it drip from your tongue to the mushroomy head of his cock. Now lubed with spit, your hands glide over his shaft so much easier, so smooth, that the pace of your strokes effortlessly increases.

"Tanhì, baby, please", Lo‘ak grunts, hips twitching in an effort to stay seated and not fuck right into your palm. "Shh", you coo with a smug grin, "Let me make you feel good, Lo. Just relax. We’re gonna fuck soon enough." Your promising words send a shiver down his spine.

"Oh eywa", he prays, his voice shaking and barely above a whisper, when your thumb starts to tease his slit, where the first bead of pre-cum had already formed and spilled over. You smear the sticky, clear liquid over the soft skin of his tip and he groans.

Slow and steadily, you add more speed and pressure to your hands, moving up and down, sometimes in a twisting motion that produces these obscene squelching sounds in your spit slicked palms. Lo‘ak moans and his cock twitches heavily, hips stuttering as he chases his upcoming orgasm. Pleasure ripples through him with each firm stroke and he feels his chest tightening.

"F-Fuck, fuck, holy sh–shit that feels so good", he curses, squirming underneath your touch, with his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. "Keep going, no wait—", his eyes fly open to find yours, "stop, stop, stop tanhì I’m close!"

"What’s wrong?", you tilt your head and giggle, the pace in which you’re stroking his fat cock never faltering and he almost chokes on his next words. "Can I come inside you?", he begs with a whimper, "Please, please let me come in you, I’m— I don’t want to come like that. Need to fill you up with my cum, baby. Please."

You squeeze your thighs together at his words, a wave of arousal pooling between them. The whine Lo’ak produces, when you don’t let up, is helpless. He’s twitching, gasping, moaning, unable to form words as you work his cock, hard and fast.

"Hmm, you can do that later, okay? Just let go for me now. Come. I know you want to, don’t hold back, Lo."

Twisting your hands, you do that thing you know he loves, that always tips him over the edge. You squeeze just below the tip of his cock with one hand, the other stroking his length so hard that his heavy balls smack against your palm the same way they would against your clit when he would take you from behind, face shoved against the ground. Like you knew that’s the imagine that’s playing in his minds eye as you bring him to his orgasm.

"Oh great mother— FUCK", Lo‘ak groans and then sucks in a sharp breath of air. He cums with short bursts of exclamations, thick ropes of warm, sticky cum shooting out, flowing over your hands and his own stomach and thighs. "There you go, that’s it", you coo so sweetly as you continue to pump his cock, it’s enough to make him moan. Trembles run through him and when you don’t stop stroking him, only slow down and lessen the pressure, his thighs jolt. His hips move, like he’s about to rise up, to get away from the intensity, but your hands keep holding onto him. Moving one hand to his stomach, you feel the muscles tense underneath the soft flesh.

Lo‘aks breathing is ragged and heavy and you keep a loose hold of his cock, smiling at the way he’s twitching with the aftershocks. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t grow soft in your palm, still hard as a rock thanks to his enviable stamina. You give him a final squeeze, causing a few more droplets of his cum to seep out of his slit and run over your knuckles.

"Holy shit", he shakily exhales, "you’re way too fucking good at this."

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? You’ve done this for so long that you both know what gets each other off. You know what it is about your bodies that the other person loves. You’ve learned and grown together and pleasured and fucked each other until there was nothing else to learn.

"Thank you", you beam with pride, your cheeks turning into a soft pink and without thinking, Lo’ak reaches for you, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss. You go willingly, matching his vigor, match his energy like no one else does. And that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure out how someone could affect him this way.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head and he instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. With your other hand, you free yourself from your loincloth, with the simple pull of a string that holds it together. Lo‘ak hastily pulls you on top of him and positions you to hover over his cock.

His hands settle on your hips and he wants to pull you down so badly, he want to split you open on his cock, wants you to scream so loudly that every living thing in the forest knows what’s going on. He wants the whole world to hear.

Lo‘ak is so painfully hard and aching as if he didn’t just came. Just like he always is when you touch him, when you arch your back like this, when your hands hold onto his shoulders. The soft curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts and your glistening cunt hovering just inches above his cock— Lo‘ak is so intimately aware of everything he loves about your body in this moment, it makes his heart swell and his cock stir.

But instead of slamming your hips down like he so desperately wanted you to, you decide to sit down on his length, trapping it between his lower stomach and your pussy. You glide yourself against it, grind your clit along his cum covered shaft and he shudders. Your movements are painfully slow, too slow.

It isn’t supposed to be so slow, so intimate, as it is, so smooth with no worries or such flowing words.

"You feel soo good, hmm so hard just for me? Can’t wait to have you inside of me", you whisper, soft praises falling from your lips before you press them against his own again, tongues curling around each other. Meanwhile, your slickness mixes with his still warm cum and it drives him further insane, knowing just how easy it would be to sink his cock into you right now.

"Let me take over", Lo’ak whispers against your lips, "please. You’re too soft, I don’t want it soft today." He adds more pressure to his grip on your waist, tempted to just manhandle you, flip you onto your stomach to take what he so desperately craves for.

"How do you want it then?", you ask lowly. Your eyes are half lidded with lust and you circle your hips until the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Feeling the muscles of your tight hole clench around his very tip makes him hiss.

It’s supposed to be wrong and needful, something dirty to make the whole forest regret ever enduring such a view, such sounds and smells.

"Rough, like… I don’t want to be able to still think anymore, that kind of rough."

What he wants from you in this moment is not warmth or comfort, he wants his deepest desires to be fulfilled and within that, be left limp and used and emotions disobeyed. It’s to be wrongful and with scrunched eyebrows, dirty. It’s not supposed to be like this. Not slow and sensual, teasing and loving and comforting. It’s not supposed to be like this, not right now. Not when this fueled the fire in his heart, made him want you even more, made him love you even more.

Lo‘ak wanted to fuck. He wanted to feel used and not loved, because that would only make things so much worse than they already were. He knows you mean good, that you want to help him feel better, that’s why you go slow and soft and almost lovingly. You just didn’t know what it did to him. You just wanted to comfort your best friend.

"Oh I can do that", you murmur with a grin, "Want me to fuck the thoughts out of your head? Okay." Thank eywa, he thought.

And then you suddenly rise your hips and slam yourself down, hard, taking his whole length in one thrust, stretching you out to the max and he knows that must’ve hurt at least a little. Your mouth falls open and you both moan in unison. Lo‘ak’s thighs tense, trembling, because it’s only been a few minutes since he came and he’s not sure how much it will take for him to do it again. But you feel so good, your pussy pulling him in, wet walls clenching around his girth and he just knows that won’t be problem. He probably had to calm himself in order not to come too early.

In this position, he’s completely at your mercy and you don’t hesitate to fuck yourself onto him. He hisses at the sensation, at how your cunt clutches him, trying to keep him inside even when you lift your hips up and slam back down again. This goes on for several minutes, with you bouncing on top of him and Lo‘ak moaning and whining and squirming underneath you.

The mushroomy head of his cock knock against your cervix with every thrust and the grip he has on your waist is hard enough to leave bruises. And that’s exactly what he needs. He wants to drown in this moment, in this feeling. But then you moan his name, so sweet it feels like warm syrup poured straight into his brain, "Lo‘ak, oh fu-ck! Lo‘ak, ah!"

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Lo’ak asks himself, is love supposed to feel like you’re drowning until the other person brings you just that little bit closer to them and you find air again?

Maybe it isn’t love at all, just the familiarity and warmth of simply being with you, being with his best friend, and all the rushing happiness in that alone. Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s just the afterglow of every orgasm that you give him, that makes him believe he’s in love with you. Maybe he’s confusing friendship with love, because of the sex, the intimacy. Two things that shouldn’t mix at all, sex and friendship, probably for this exact reason.

Maybe he’s just so starved for affection that he mistakes what you show him, the affection a friend shows him, with love. Is that what it is?

Your arms suddenly shift from where you held onto his shoulders and it snaps him out of his thoughts. It’s not enough. He’s not supposed to think, it’s not hard enough if he can still think.

"Harder", Lo‘ak begs, "Need it harder than that, c’mon tanhì, give me your worst. Fuck me like you mean it, I know you have it in you." You brush your gentle hands through his hair, his braids are a mess by now but you don’t really care as you fist them and tug harshly with every bounce of your hips and he moans loudly at this. His cock twitches wildly inside you, showing just how much he was enjoying this, so you move further to close your hand around his queue and pull, hard, making him gasp and whimper.

Another thing you didn’t know about was, that Lo‘ak couldn’t stop daydreaming about what it may feel like to form tsaheylu with you. To be bonded with you, not just by heart but by soul too. To be physically connected with you, being able to feel what you feel. To be yours forever. The thought alone was enough to make goosebumps appear on his arms. But that’s all that it was and all that it will ever be. A thought, a simple daydream. A silly little fantasy that would never come true.

He tries to push these thoughts, those that threatens his peace and calm. He slaps them away, bringing him back to the pleasure he's receiving.

Lo‘ak abruptly sits up beneath you. His hands wrap tight around your waist, lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

He feels sometimes rise in throat, burning like lava that erupts from a volcano and he can’t hold it in any longer, not without burning his tongue.

“I love you”, he murmurs into your skin, lowly, like maybe you won’t hear him if he speaks quietly enough. It’s not like you would understand the human’s language, anyways.

"W-What?", you ask, completely unsuspecting of the foreign words falling from his mouth and it makes him wince.

Lo‘ak presses his face to the space between your breasts, smelling your sweat and your natural scents and he pulls you all the way down by your hips so you’re sitting on the very base of his cock, rocking you along it.

"I love you so much", he mumbles, just a little louder this time because he’s unable to hold it in any longer, "You’re my best friend and I don’t want to loose you, but I love you. I- I‘m so fucking scared to loose you, you mean everything to me. You’re the one good thing in my life and I just can’t live without you, you hear me? But I love you and I want to tell you. I love you so much."

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and use him for leverage to lift yourself up and down on his cock again, your wet cunt squeezing, hugging him. Sloppy noises make their way out and he vaguely recognizes the words falling from your lips.

“Lo’ak I… I don’t understand", you whine into his ear, "Say it so I can understand you.” You demand and he’s helpless, a slave to your desires, every sweet roll of your hips sending bolts of lightening through his guts. He grunts, fingers digging into your hips, pressing his lips together into a thin line to prevent himself from spilling any more unwanted confessions.

Lo‘ak wants to— by Eywa, he really fucking wants to, he wants to tell you that he loves you, that he actually means it and he’s not confusing anything and it isn't just because of what's going on between you both, it’s not because of the sex. He loves you for yourself. For how you make him feel, for how you treat him. He wants to tell you so many things, but at the same time, he's afraid of fucking up your friendship. It hurts to know that you will never look at him the way he looks at you, but he's willing to accept that you'll probably always be just friends. Because even then, he's still getting what he so desperately wants from you.

He’s willing to accept that. Or at least that’s what he thought…

“Say it!” You gasp, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit sending you into a frenzy. You raise yourself up higher, until only the tip is inside. Your thighs work to keep you up and then you slam back down and he shudders, moaning like it’s been punched out of him.

His arms encircle your middle, holding you so tight that you can barely breathe. He’s pretty sure you can feel his pulse thumping through his dick and then he bucks up into you, making your tits bounce against his chest and you gasp as the tip of his cock thumps against something that feels different than the rest. “Oh f-fuck, there?”

“There, yes right there,” you moan back.

He seizes your hips, holding you in place. You whine, desperately, and he’s quick to oblige you. He thrusts up, cock disappearing and reappearing in a blur, tirelessly fucking against your g-spot, his thighs tensing at the tight squeeze of your walls around his cock.

In the corner of his eyes, he catches the way your teeth sink into your lower lip and something primal comes over him, an animalism for your noises to overpower the familiar sounds of the forest.

"Lo, what– what did you say?", you mewl and Lo‘ak mentally curses you for not letting go of it. Just forget about it already, he thought. Why couldn’t you just ignore it? One of his hands wedges itself between your bodies, thumb blurring down to your clit. He fondles the overly sensitive, wet nub and groans when he feels your pussy clench even harder around his throbbing cock. You borderline scream, trying your best to smother it with a scramble of your hand. It doesn’t help, the noise choppy with every powerful thrust of his hips into you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m— I‘m so close", you cry out, chanting curses like they’re prayers.

"I know, baby, I know. Can feel you squeezing my cock. You’re so fucking tight like this. D-Don’t you dare stop", he moans, "I‘m gonna come with you."

"Say it. Tell me what you just said Lo‘ak, I‘m serious, I w—" He cuts you off with a well-timed snap of his hips, burying himself into you so deep, it’s rendering you speechless. Your mouth gapes open, eyebrows scrunched with pleasure as the stretch of his cock hurdles you over the edge and you come with sob.

You’re even tighter than before, your cunt acting desperate as it tries to keep him from pulling out. He moans your name into the crook of your neck, holding your waist for stability as he rises his hips off the ground to thrust into you. You feel every muscle in his body tighten under you, a stinging pain shooting through you from the death-grip he had on your hips, pulling you up and down on his cock when you’re unable to ride him on your own anymore.

Lo‘ak grunts and squeezes his eyes shut and he keeps most of his length inside, only pulling out a few inches at a time before pressing right back in and then he comes with a violent shudder, feeling his whole body seize with pleasure. His cum fills you within seconds, so hot you think it might leave burn marks, pooling below your belly button as rope after rope shoots from the tip. He’s panting, cock twitching with every breath, and for a moment it feels endless, but then—

"I- I see you, tanhì. And I love you. I love you, okay? Fuck, I love you so much!" He blurts out so fast, his brain is unable to translate into the sky people’s language in time and he has no idea what he even just said. He prays that you didn’t understand him, didn’t hear him— But unfortunately, you did. You heard him loud and clear, if the way your eyes widened was any indication of it.

And for less than a second, there’s something in your eyes that gives him the impression that this might not be the end. But then something in them shifts. And you look at him, you properly look at him now, as if the words had finally sunken in. And suddenly it feels like the whole world around him begins to crumble.

He watches the way your pupils dilate, how they flick from one eye to the other, how you swallow around the lump in your throat while his own has dried out so much, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to use his voice again. And then your mouth opens and time stops. He sees the way your lips move but the sound takes a while to reach his ears.

And this, this moment right here, is the ultimate and unstoppable impact after a long fall. But unlike the impact to the ground after an actual fall, short and deadly, this right here is merciless, it’s brutal and gruesome and so, so much more painful.

"Oh, Lo‘ak… I’m so sorry…"

1K notes · View notes

ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them.

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders.

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so.

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle.

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him.

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow.

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard.

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went.

Life should’ve felt perfect.

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times.

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you.

What are you doing right now?

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with?

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you.

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you.

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore.

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him.

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan.

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone.

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words.

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway.

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did.

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth.

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin.

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release.

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either.

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears.

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

sadnymi · 1 month

Text

「 ✦ how would Slytherin boys react to you having a crush on them ✦ 」 [part2]

Regulus Black

Regulus might be rendered speechless. His eyes would widen momentarily, reflecting a mixture of surprise and something deeper, perhaps a flicker of hope. He might stammer slightly, struggling to form a coherent response.

A part of him yearns to reciprocate your feelings, to revel in the unexpected joy of your affection. But another part, burdened by family expectations and a sense of duty, might hold him back. This internal conflict could manifest in his behavior – becoming withdrawn, avoiding eye contact, or appearing lost in thought.

Regulus might shower you with subtle yet meaningful gestures. He might anonymously send you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, the kind you once mentioned admiring in Herbology class. He might "accidentally" bump into you in the library, leaving behind a rare book on a subject you expressed interest in. These unspoken acts of affection would be his way of expressing his feelings without defying the expectations placed upon him.

might yearn for a life where he could openly express his love, a life free from the constraints of his family legacy. This longing might manifest in fleeting glances exchanged across the Great Hall, filled with a bittersweet tenderness.

He'll initiate more physical contact, such as touching your hand, hugging you, or leaning in closer when talking to you.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco's usual composure might crack for a moment. Expect a stammer, a flushed face, or a poorly disguised attempt to act nonchalant.

To mask his fluster, Draco might resort to his usual arrogant demeanor. He could make snide remarks or try to downplay your feelings.

He wouldn't openly declare his feelings. Instead, he might subtly show his care: offering you his notes in class, anonymously sending you a rare magical ingredient, or "accidentally" bumping into you in the halls.

He might subtly brag about your crush to his friends, trying to appear nonchalant while secretly basking in the attention.

Despite his initial awkwardness, Draco would be a surprisingly protective friend (if not yet a boyfriend). He wouldn't tolerate anyone bullying you and might step in to "defend your honor" (even if you didn't need defending).

Tom Riddle

Tom wouldn't reveal his emotions readily. He'd observe you with a calculating gaze, trying to understand your motives and the potential benefits of your affection.

Tom might see your crush as a tool. He could use your feelings to gain your trust or influence your actions for his own agenda. A sudden "kindness" or excessive charm.

If he deems you valuable, Tom might become possessive and controlling. He might use threats or fear to keep you in line.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Tom might confide a secret or hidden desire, testing the waters of your loyalty and trust. A deep sadness might cloud Regulus' eyes at times.

become obsessed with you, it turned dangerous. He might resort to dark magic or manipulation to keep you close, regardless of your feelings.

Blaise Zabini Blaise

would likely seize the opportunity to tease you mercilessly. Expect witty remarks, playful nudges, and a barrage of "friendly" jabs about your crush.

The teasing might morph into playful flirting. He'd test the waters with compliments, winks, and suggestive innuendos to see how you respond.

Blaise would exude an air of confidence, perhaps boasting about his irresistible charm (though secretly hoping you find him genuine).

If he truly likes you back, the teasing might lessen, replaced by genuine conversations and attempts to get to know you better.

Blaise might turn surprisingly protective if he senses someone else vying for your attention. He'd use his wit and charm (and maybe a subtle threat or two) to scare off any competition.

306 notes · View notes

hwayangyeon · 1 year

Text

NSFW ex bf actor heeseung x actress reader // you meet heeseung during met gala and he fucks you in the bathroom // a lot of teasing, mirror sex, bathroom sex, public sex kinda // 1.3k words

pt.2 here!! & pt.3 here!!

you sat at the beautifully decorated table, next to other beautifully decorated tables. more and more people started entering the hall and taking their seats. thankfully the chairs at your table were still empty, it gives you some time to check the nameplates and, if you come across an unknown surname, look up the person's instagram profile.

you looked to your right, the small paper read "rina sawayama". great, you like her music. it might be like last year when you were the only actress at your table.

you looked to your left, moved the card to see its front, and– "FUCK!" you exclaimed, probably too loud which granted you a few glances from other celebrities.

fucking lee heeseung will be fucking sitting next to you. who assigned those fucking tables?

actors are all sorts of people - rude, kind, bossy, hardworking, or totally insufferable to work with. heeseung was the last type.

the thing is, he wasn't a bad actor. if he was, your paths wouldn't cross so often. it was his attitude, his cockiness that angered you so much. there was this one movie you both starred in where you had to kiss, and he kept making up excuses to reshoot the scene because he knew how much you hate kissing him, given your dating history from high school.

"happy to see me?" you heard a whisper in your ear. it didn't shock you, you knew that voice too well. you would be lying if you said it didn't send a shiver down your spine, though.

"wish i didn't have to," you took a sip of wine from your glass, "this is your doing, am i right?"

"oh, don't think so lowly of me."

"this isn't the lowest i have thought of you." you turned back to him and gave him a proper look.

his shirt perfectly ironed, broad shoulders emphasized by the navy blue suit. the color of his lips perfectly matched with the strawberry you just ate while waiting for the main dish. the dangly earrings you liked so much. not on him, you just like this type of jewelry. even his hair was flawless, his stylists must have spent a good hour on him.

after every seat at your table was taken, the gala had rightfully started. surprisingly heeseung was behaving himself, talking with other guests, not really paying attention to you. it was your behavior that was questionable.

because of your tight dress, your knees kept drifting to the left, occasionally touching heeseung's leg, after which he proceeded to brush your thigh with his thumb, saying "excuse me," as if he bumped into you. whenever that happened you jumped back to sitting straight, but then your legs started moving to the other side, and you didn't want to bother the woman on your right, so you just excused yourself from the table and went to the bathroom.

because of the banquet just starting, the toilet room was empty. you stood in front of the mirror, wanting to reapply your lipstick when it struck you that you had left your purse on your seat, "fuck."

"forgot this?" you heard the annoying voice. you didn't even notice him following you here.

"it's a women's bathroom, heeseung."

"it's not."

you looked around only to see a display of luxurious men's fragrances for guests to try, "shit."

you wanted to walk past him and leave the room, but he was blocking the door.

"you look so beautiful today, i can't keep my eyes off of you." you knew that tone, he was playing.

"move."

"ah, isn't it just like in moonlight?" he pretended to have a conversation with you, "the bathroom scene, do you remember?" he looked down at you and smirked.

oh you wish you didn't. it was the first sex scene you've ever filmed. of course you weren't having actual intercourse, but it was pretty intimate. you remembered it too well, him delicately touching your skin to make sure you're comfortable, breathing into your lips, looking at you with so much desire.

his face started moving closer to you, calmly, so you could back away if you wanted to, but you couldn't force yourself to.

your lips met his and, shit, they not only look good together on camera but feel amazing too, as if they were carved specifically for each other. it was like two magnets finally connecting. it was a matter of seconds for heeseung to have you bent over the counter.

he moved your dress up carefully, slowly so you can have all the time you want to regret your decision. oh you hated how easily he could read your mind, "hurry up," you rushed him.

"are you this needy for me?" he pushed onto you harder and you could feel the bulge in his pants.

"i don't want anyone to walk in."

"why? it wouldn't be the first time when people see you like this for me," he said, still referencing the movie.

honestly, you wanted to turn around and slap him on the face, which he expected and so firmly grabbed your hips, unabling you to move. then he unzipped his pants and swiftly put his dick inside you, not wasting any more seconds.

without a doubt your body still knew his, he entered you so easily only for you to clench on him immediately after, causing a gasp even from him.

you both looked at each other in the mirror, a smirk appearing on his face once he saw how hard you were trying to keep your lips pressed together.

he was thrusting into you deeply, not leaving any space between you and the sink. his warm body pressing onto you from behind and you rubbing on the stone-cold porcelain from the front really fucked you up. it was difficult for you to hold yourself up, which heeseung noticed and helped you by grabing your neck and pulling you back, closer to him.

a strap holding your dress fell off your shoulder, exposing your right breast. you wanted to bring it back, but he stopped your hand, "i want to watch."

it drove you mad how he kept whispering into your ear, how you melted because of it, how he perfectly caressed your spot, how hot you were getting, how you wanted him to watch.

"why is it that you always come back to me?" he looked your reflection in the eyes while kissing the side of your neck.

"not to you," you paused because of the moan escaping your lips, "to this."

"to this?" he moved his hand up to your jaw, his fingers brushing over your lips, oh you had to tighten your legs together, "i know you want me to put my fingers into your mouth. it always made you cum."

it was so hard to not break eye contact with him because of the filth he said to you, but you were already so red on your face, tears slowly had started to build up in your eyes, you couldn't give him more satisfaction. he can't know how good he's making you feel, even though it's not difficult to tell from the wet sounds you're making.

"come for me. i want to know that you're still mine," the more he talks the closer you feel to your release, but you can't give up so easily. not that you want him to fuck you longer, you just don't want him to think that you're so easy for him.

but you are. no matter how hard you tried to stop your orgasm, it came. you coated his dick with your sweet, glistening liquid. a single tear ran down your cheek, finishing the scene.

"you did so well, baby." he kissed your exposed back.

"don't call me that," you moved his hands away from you.

pt. 2 here!! pt.3 here!!

after hotel.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #after hotel.

1K notes · View notes

chaichaiiskai · 5 months

Note

NO PICKLE X MALE READER??? I GOT YOU.

pickle x prehistoric! shot male reader who's like his most precious s/o and overprotective during the prehistoric times and then now in the future. it can be fluff with a bit of angst.

almost the same height as baki or something.

notes: okay okay okay, I'm so sorry I'm late on this but I now have the brain capacity to write somethin' worth readin'...

yandere-ish! possessive! pickle x prehistoric! male! reader

warnings: violence, blood, body horror (not to reader), pickle is a lil' yandere ngl—, possessive and protective behavior, angst, kidnapoing, mention of smut but no explicit descriptions, male reader, amab reader, mxm, mlm, homophobes dni, mdni, 3.7k+ words (I went a lil' ham ngl)

Unexpectedly, the Jurassic research team had never expected to have a primitive man at their fingers, suspended in time and saline— not just one, but two. However, strangely enough, they both looked distinctively different, one was much taller and muscular than the other, causing the researchers to question the periods in time in which both had existed. That was quickly disproven despite this, seeing how the two of the men were encased in the very same saline rock, back to back as if they'd been frozen in time in the middle of protecting each other from an outside threat. On the outside looking in, it was quite poetic in a way, a clear display of humanity in its ideal form, hardened in resin. It was almost a shame that they would be carefully melting away the rock to get a better view of the two men encased in the saline.

The biggest theory amongst the researchers was that the two men could potentially be siblings, the taller one being the oldest brother while the younger was the shorter one; even if they didn't explicitly look alike. There was also the theory about them being father and son, there was no definitive answer— yet.

And so, with as much excitement as most scientists who were ready to discover something new, the thawing process had begun on the saline rock that held two great mysteries.

It took a bit of time for the researchers to thaw the rock with pure caution, wanting to keep the two beings intact as much as possible and so, they'd decided to thaw one side at a time— starting with the smaller man first. About two days later, they had managed to thaw him out completely and get him onto a gurney that surprisingly creaked and squeaked under his weight. They hooked the man up to monitors and machines, eager to see what exactly was going on with him, and to their shock— there was a faint heartbeat which required more close surveillance from them. The man looked almost as if he was stuck in a peaceful sleep, seemingly unable to wake up.

Half of the research team found themselves debating on whether or not they would apply modern technology to this man, wanting to reanimate him while the other focused on melting away the rest of the saline and getting a better look at the beast of a man while keeping the smaller man under surveillance.

And to their astonishment (and horror) the beast woke as they had managed to melt the saline away, stopping about halfway past his torso. One could only imagine the look of terror on the faces of the small, everyone was small compared to this creature, scientists as they stared up at him. He simply stared back, unmoving, but blinking, glancing around briefly at his confusing new surroundings that looked nothing like what he knew when he was younger.

Project Pickle was a success, but could the same be said about Project Cucumber?

Despite the looming and watchful eyes of the eight foot tall man who watched each and every one of them as they worked, the scientist continued to melt away the saline while Pickle remained still. Based on instinct alone, he did not sense any imminent danger, therefore, he saw none of the people in the room as immediate threats.

That did not last long, when he was completely free, he began to look around more, almost as if he was looking for something specific, tendrils of dark locks swinging as he looked rather perplexed. Then, he briefly sniffed the air, pupils dilating as his gaze zeroed in on the high security door that kept him tucked away in a metal box he didn't care to think about. And he began to walk towards the door, unknowing of what he was doing exactly, and stared at it, sniffing the air once again.

Surprisingly, the military personnel that worked as security on the premises didn't even bother to move, not even when the beast of a man snatched the door clean off it's securely bolted in to get a peek inside. He then crouched under the doorway to walk through it, almost like he was walking into a cave and made his way towards the gurney that held Cucumber's sleeping form. The scientist in the room all audibly gasped, shuddering in fear as he took some steps forward, standing at the foot of the gurney that still held your body.

The silence in the facility was deafening, even a single needle would be heard if it were to hit the cold tile floor.

And that's when Pickle moved, grabbing a hold of your calf to give it a squeeze that would have surely shattered the bones of a modern hero. Coincidentally, it had only caused your eyes to shoot open, a sound of anger coming from your mouth that was accustomed to a growl as you sat up, grabbing at the hand of the being who'd rudely woken you from your sleep. Only then when you were awake did Pickle loosen his grip and your eyes met for the first time in over hundreds of millions of years. The moment was wholesome to the two of you, but somewhat eerie to those looking on the outside in.

From then on, Pickle and Cucumber were given their own special area where they spent all their time together. There was one thing that was quite noticeable about the pair, Pickle did not like it when people got too close to Cucumber, often growling and baring his teeth at anyone who came too close. On the other hand, he would let the scientist get close to him so long as they kept their distance from you. Their interactions were simple enough, no words were exchanged but there was the occasional grunt and groan as they seemed to speak to each other in their own silent way. The original theories of the scientist believing that you were siblings was proving stronger and stronger with each day.

That— however, would soon change upon witnessing an... interaction between the two of you.

One late evening, the scientists were simply busying themselves with their research, not even paying much attention to the two men in their makeshift habitat. That was until the sound of growling, hissing, and other wild, animalistic noises coming from one of the monitors that was watching over the Projects. Curiously, the several scientists turned to look at the screen, mostly with mystified looks on their faces.

It looked like Pickle and Cucumber were battling, roughhousing in the dirt of the carefully constructed enclosure, biting and scratching at one another. Almost immediately, the scientists were ready to jump into action to find some way to subdue the two of them before something horrible happened and ruined their research, but nothing could have prepared them for what came next.

The winner of the wrestling match was Pickle, and he was eager to claim his prize. The scene that played out on the monitor was enough to make every single personnel who was watching blush like roses in a garden.

Welp, there goes their family theory... The last thing they had ever expected was that these two primitive men would be engaging in a romantic partnership, yet here they were— the sounds the two of them were making was proof. And surely, they should have all looked away, but they couldn't seem to look away, only doing so when the two men had both tired each other and decided to fall asleep, cuddling together as if they hadn't just violated each other in the most criminal and animalistic way. The two of them looked almost innocent in a way, Pickle easily dwarfed Cucumber in the spooning embrace but at least the two of them seemed comfortable.

From then on, the researchers that watched you both seemed to look at your interactions under a new light, noticing the romantic undertones with everything the two of you did together.

Pickle had a refusal to eat things that he did not actively hunt and seeing how there were no animals in the enclosure, he did not eat. And fortunately, considering the differences in biology, the primitive man was able to withstand being without food for a much longer period of time than what modern day people could do now.

A few weeks after being thawed from your saline sanctuaries, and constantly being observed by the weirdly skinny people with their weird furs, you were beginning to become more and more curious yourself. So much so that while Pickle was sleeping and one of the massive walls moved, your eyes immediately flew towards it and watched as one of the skinny people came into the room cautious and careful, holding something in their hands that seemed to be carrying other things. In interest, you stared at them, watching their every move, staying completely alert as they set the thing with things down and scurried away behind the moving wall.

Pickle was still slumbering deeply as you stared at the new thing in your enclosure before slowly approaching, sniffing around so that you could safely close the distance. As you got closer, familiar scents filled your nose and a sound of approval, similar to the sound of a chirp, was heard before you picked up a familiar fruit, peeling it off its skin and beginning to happily indulge in the fruity flavor. You sat beside the thing of things, the bowl of fruit, and happily ate the delicious treat, crossing your legs in a comfortable manner.

The eyes of your lover soon fluttered and he felt around on the ground, using his touch to try and find you, and when he is unable to, an angry growl is the only sound he makes before getting onto all fours, glancing around like a predator on a hunt. That was until he felt your presence and smelled you again, along with some strangely familiar scents and so he crawled in the direction of whether the scent was strongest.

If there was one thing to give credit on, it was the enclosure that the scientist has carefully constructed for the two of you looked like a forest, filled with trees and dirt and patches of grass, but there was an area where you often would relax— a clearing where the trees were a bit more sparse and the dirt was more abundant. That was also where Pickle and Cucumber were able to see the wall move and keep a close eye on the scientists and researchers who entered the enclosure.

The man crawled his way towards where he could smell where your scent was strongest and soon stumbled upon you hunched over, back facing him, and shoving things in your mouth, stuffing your cheeks with your newfound feast. Be that as it may, upon sensing Pickle's presence, you paused and in your squatting position, you shuffled your feet around, pivoting so that you could face Pickle. Soon enough, you flashed him a grin, mouth drenched in sweet juices as you beckoned him over with a hand.

He trusted you completely, but the same couldn't be said about what you were consuming, his eyes peeking between you and the fruit as he slowly crawled towards you. As soon as Pickle was within reach, you were quick to pluck one of the grapes from its stem and shove into his mouth, almost as if you were nonverbally saying 'try this!'

Caught off guard by the strange thing shoved in his mouth, he nearly spit it out but you quickly gave him a pleading look, puppy eyes causing his shoulders to slump, holding the grape in his mouth rather awkwardly. Huffing in frustration at him, you pointed a clawed nail towards your mouth and pretended to chew before pointing at Pickle, a look of concentration on your face as you nodded at him, hoping he'd get the message— he did.

At first, you couldn't tell how he'd felt about the grapes based on his facial expressions alone but that soon changed when his eyes widened, and then an approving sound followed.

"Hm!"

You couldn't agree more, grinning as you plucked a few more grapes, making a sound similar to a laugh when Pickle basically unhinged his jaw as you threw grapes in his mouth, one by one like a childish game.

This was another thing that the researchers had noticed, the two of you were easily amused by the simplest things, acting rather childishly despite both being full-grown adults. It was almost endearing in a way, watching the two of you, mostly you, feed each other fruits, enjoying yourselves with no active threats of danger in your lives. It was almost something to be jealous of... And that was when the researchers' curiosity seemed to spark, and perhaps an experiment would lead to some interesting results, as dangerous as they may be, but it would take an intricate amount of planning for every possible outcome.

Weeks pass.

At the exact same time every day, more bowls of fruit are brought for the two of you, the amount of fruit only seeming to double in sizes each and every time. The two of you actively seem to enjoy the fruit, the grapes being an especially popular fruit between the two of you. You were often feeding Pickle and yourself the fruit, happily enjoying them each and every time.

And just as usual, one of the skinny people brought in more bowls of fruit, with even more fruit than you could ever imagine. And naturally, you both dug right in, enjoying the sweet flavors wholeheartedly. That was until the world began to spin around you and Pickle, your vision growing spotty and blurred. Before either you or Pickle can register, your body's hit the ground and the last thing you see is Pickle attempting to crawl over you, wishing to protectively drape himself over your body but you lose consciousness before seeing if he's made it.

Much to the surprise of the researchers, the tranquilizers they'd injected into the fruit had finally worked! And now they could perform their experiment in peace— a great number of security personnel piled into the enclosure and grabbed a hold of your body, carrying you out of the enclosure and shutting the door behind themselves, carrying you to somewhere else within the facility.

The door was then properly amped up with the greatest technology the facility could offer, mostly looking to measure the strength of Pickle and his partnership with you.

When the next day came, Pickle awoke, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the enclosure he was entrapped in. He slowly sat up once his senses were back at their full use, though his body was still a bit drowsy and tiredly glanced around. Naturally, he was wondering where you were, causing him to click his teeth together in a particular way, calling out for you in his own special call.

And when he got no response, usually an excitable chirp, he got on all fours and began to crawl around the enclosure, sniffing and looking for where you could be hiding. Having been in the enclosure for so long, your scent was still lingering and he knew that you liked to play games— hiding from him, but with each passing second of him calling you and climbing up a few trees to find your usual hiding places, his panic was becoming more and more apparent. And before anyone could register the true terror of Pickle, the man stood on his two feet and roared at the fake sky, the power from it was enough to shake the entire enclosure.

The pure, unfiltered rage could be felt even through the security cameras currently being observed.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

Another growl followed before Pickle could be seen barreling towards the moving wall // enforced door with great speed and animosity, almost as if he knew that they were withholding his beloved from him. A line of personnel were on the other side of the door, prepared for what was to come next, and when he came in contact with the door, slamming his head into the metal, a noticeable dent from the outside was created but the door did not immediately give out. Another roar of anger came from him as reared back and began to repeatedly pound his fists into the door, dent after dent being put into the door that would not budge like the one he'd destroyed after waking up.

On the other side of the facility, you weren't doing any better, having woken up about an hour after Pickle, you were surprised to see the new enclosure, confused on where you were and most importantly— where Pickle was. Nothing smelt or felt familiar and you couldn't sense him. And unlike Pickle, you didn't immediately react with rage, instead, you reacted in a rather panicked way, climbing up the nearest tree for a better vantage point. When you saw no sight of Pickle, the anxiety began to set in, not even considering the possibility that he was still somewhat close by and that you'd been forcibly separated from him by the researchers who were still observing you both with keen eyes, notebooks and pens in hand.

They keep you separated for days, watching as Pickle's rage only grows and your anxiety seems to be eating away at you, almost deteriorating you at a rapid pace. Watching your differing reactions was proving to be even more interesting than they'd originally hypothesized. And while doing this experiment, the scientist had not revealed themselves to either primitive men, but about four days after the experiment started, one of the researchers had offered that they go back to sending in the bowls of fruit to see how they'd react.

Naturally, they chose to give you the fruit first.

And when the wall opened, your gaze immediately snapped up and you moved faster than they'd anticipated, hurriedly approaching the person with the bowl of fruit on all fours. The scientist is horrified at first, watching as you stare at him with pleading, puppy-like eyes. And then, you open your mouth before closing it, almost as if you were trying to say something but were hesitating.

Every scientist was on the edge of their seats, not expecting your reaction in the slightest.

Your mouth opens and closes a few more times before you finally speak, though the words are a bit broken, syllables are a bit hard to comprehend for you at the moment.

"Hmm...hm...hi—him." You move your hands above your head and begin to mess with the air, almost as if you were playing with long hair, obviously talking about Pickle.

"Wh...wha...wha...here..? Whe—whe...where?"

You did not get the reaction you wanted, watching as the scientist dropped the bowl of fruit and ran away, the wall shutting quickly behind him. As soon as the door fully closed, you lunged at it and slammed your fists onto it, broken words soon following as you pleaded, eyes beginning to water.

"Plee...plea— plea..? Please?!"

The sight of you whimpering and pounding your fists on the door is nearly enough to make the scientists sympathetic, watching as you crumble in on yourself, clearly suffering from some kind of abandonment issue. So much so that you were willing to speak their language to try and communicate. They wondered if you could learn more words and perhaps even sentences in the future. Perhaps they should have separated the two of you since the very beginning.

On the fifth day, Pickle had stopped pounding on the door, the amount of dents he'd left in the door was a concerning amount and the personnel had even grown fearful that he'd end up breaking through it soon, but they were fortunate that it seemed he'd given up. And instead, he simply sat down in front of the door, crossing his legs and his arms over his chest, waiting for the wall to open, almost as if he was expecting it.

It never opened.

Not that day.

Not the next day.

And not the next day.

The doors would open often for you, the scientists would bring you fruit and strange things while they spoke to you, trying to get you to talk to them again but your eyes were always wandering behind them, looking for Pickle in hopes of seeing him again. You do not remember the last time you'd been with him for such a long period of time, your anxiety seemed to build with each day.

"If you can just say one word— we'll bring you back to your mate, okay?"

The scientist said, waving their hands around as if that was going to help you understand what they were getting at. You simply furrowed your brows at them, trying to understand the weird noises they were saying to you. The language barrier was obvious.

As one would expect, the scientists were frustrated by the progress, trying to express to you their desires and what they wanted. They were getting nowhere.

Pickle had remained seated like a statue in front of the door, unmoving and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to find you, and he wasn't going to let this strange thing stop him from doing so.

Though he may not be the smartest, he knew that his fists had worn down this strange stone wall and just a few more shoves would soon bend to his will. And so, suddenly, he stood up and got into a fighting position, bringing his fist back before shooting it forward at the speed of a bullet that breaks the sound barrier with a clap and the door goes flying, crushing the line of personnel on the other side against the nearest wall, turning them into mush.

He steps out, a blank, uninterested stare on his face. An alarm soon goes off at this, seeing how he'd just brutally murdered some of security, but that didn't stop Pickle from continuing to walk, eager to find where you are, wanting nothing more than to have you back safe in his arms. And if that means crushing the skulls of small people, he wouldn't mind, so long as he got back to you.

#— chai’s asks. !!#male reader #x male reader #— anonnie. !!#amab reader #baki hanma #baki the grappler #pickle baki #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle x y/n #pickle x male reader #mlm #mxm #yandere baki hanma pickle

365 notes · View notes

xzaddyzanakinx · 2 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Two: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts and he’s really fucking weird about it, but it’s okay since it’s love 💕 He’s a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Date:

June 13th

Anakin woke up in a wonderful mood this morning. Today was going to be a good day, a really really good day. It was Thursday and you were going to book club at the library, which mean you would be going out for coffee after and then you’d go visit your sister before your shift at the diner. That would give him an ample amount of time to install the necessary security equipment for your apartment.

He’d already set up the wireless connection and app that goes along with the cameras the moment the package was delivered. He’d had plenty of time to do that yesterday while you were in class. He was so relieved that he’d be able to check in whenever he needed to, just a click or two and he’d be able to see and hear the goings on in your apartment.

These little microcams were an absolute lifesaver in his opinion, not only were they the perfect size, they also had an extremely long battery life *and* the resolution was surprisingly good. It was definitely worth the extra cash to get a clear picture of your pretty face.

He practically skipped down the street to your apartment, typing the code into the keypad when he arrived. He made sure to wipe his feet on the rug at the entrance, he’d hate to track dirt into your neat little living space. He trekked up the stairs to your floor and couldn’t help the massive grin on his face as he unlocked your apartment door.

Boogie greeted him happily now, he’d made sure to feed her little treats every time he visited just to get on her good side. He’d actually become quiet fond of the little gal, he could see why you liked cats now.

They were soft and cute just like you. He wouldn’t be surprised if you purred too, and if you didn’t… well he could fix that.

He locked the door behind him and got to work. He was thankful you were short enough to need a step stool because that was really coming in handy. It made it so much easier to place the first camera in the trim above your front door. He made sure it had a good angle of your kitchenette and living room.

The next was installed in the opposite corner on top of the bookshelf that held the hoard of books you promised yourself that you’d read but hadn’t gotten around to yet. You were just a girl after all, stuff like that didn’t keep your attention very well. He thought his reading voice would hold your attention much better than your own inner voice.

Anakin smiled as he thought about which book he’d read to you first… you had quite the collection, but he had plenty of time to figure it out before the time came.

Now he had a great view of the couch and the hall leading to your bedroom and bathroom. He checked the first two cameras via the app and was pleasantly surprised to see just how perfect the resolution was. He knew it was good, but seeing it in your home like this? He’d feel right there with you every time he checked the live feed.

Your bedroom. The one place he still hadn’t allowed himself to enter, this was your private space and it felt wrong to invade that privacy. It was one thing to peek in occasionally but an entirely different thing to actually go inside.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the scent of you hitting him in the face had him weak in the knees. Anakin’s hands shook as he trailed his fingertips across the soft cotton sheets on your bed, you’d left it unmade.

He was already here… he might as well just try it out right?

No. No he can’t do that. If he lays down he’ll never get back up. His thoughts would eat him alive until he gave in and left a mess in your bed. Just a pillow then.

Oh… oh now he’s in trouble. Not only did he squeeze the pillow tightly and bury his face into its squishy middle to sniff every lingering bit of the smell of your shampoo… he did something very, very bad.

But it’s done now and he can’t take it back. Oh well, you won’t mind.

‘Back to work Anakin.’ He reminded himself and begrudgingly did exactly that.

He placed the third camera on the ceiling fan above your bed. Taking great care that the lens was completely covered.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He didn’t need to see what you did in bed… just hear it. You snored and Anakin just wanted to make sure you, ya know didn’t stop breathing or whatever in your sleep.

No other reason.

He took one glance over at the bathroom across the hall and really, really thought hard. He didn’t buy the fourth camera for your bathroom. He really didn’t.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He wouldn’t do that to you, but it was alright for him to think about it. Wasn’t it? Yeah. Yeah it’s okay to think about it.

With his handiwork finished he returned the step stool to it’s place under the kitchen sink and took a look around the place. It was homey, very cozy, very you.

You were alittle messy sometimes but that’s okay, so was he. Maybe he should clean up alittle. He smiled, proud of himself for thinking of it, and got to work. Just a quick run through of the kitchen and living room.

He couldn’t do *all* of your dishes, but he could certainly wash some silver ware and a cup or two to lessen the burden on you. So while he carefully washed and dried your favorite coffee mug, Anakin found himself sucking the spoon you’d used for your ice cream last night.

That’s good enough right? He’d licked it clean… you were going to use it again for ice cream tonight. He knew you would. Last month you ate ice cream for dinner the entire week of your period and you were doing the same this month. So he placed that spoon on top of the rest.

He vacuumed the kitchen and living room, your cat shed a lot and honestly Anakin should probably come vacuum for you more often because you’re not nearly as thorough as he is. He moved the couch and found at least two weeks worth of dust bunnies back there.

He knew it was difficult for you to juggle work, school and your personal life. You shouldn’t have to work, you should be able to stay home and lounge about after you’d cleaned house. He’d make sure you could do exactly that when the time was right.

Speaking of the time, he checked his watch and sighed. He should probably get going if he wanted to walk you to work.

On his way out he hurriedly placed the last camera in the stair well leading to the building’s entrance, that way he could familiarize himself with your neighbors and of course keep up to date with the door codes.

Diary Entry: June 14th

Those cameras I got for you are my new favorite thing.

It’s alittle unhealthy the way I check them as often as I do, but like they say, love makes people do crazy things.

I just can’t help it.

You’re so cute, I love the way you sing even if it’s really… not so great sometimes. But hey, not everyone is cut out for those high pitched vocals like that guy the one with the hair Kellin Quinn from that one song you really, really desperately want to hit the high note on. You’re amazing baby, but maybe don’t ever sing that one in public. Keep it at home just for me okay? Not everyone can appreciate your beautiful voice like I can.

You talk to your cat like she’s a person. Not even in a baby talk voice either, no, it’s more like she’s a girl from one of your college classes. You come home and tell her us your daily drama… it’s adorable.

I do however have a bone to pick with whoever Travis is. Travis can kick rocks. I can’t believe he did that to Amanda, and on her birthday? Unbelievable.

I think my favorite part of this new dynamic of ours is dinner time though. I even went to the corner store and got some cookie dough ice cream to eat with you. I felt like we were really there together, especially because I’m almost certain you used the spoon that I cleaned for you.

I’m so glad you have good taste in reality Tv as well. None of that Bachelor shit. No you like the juicy stuff. My kinda girl aren’t ya?

That Love is Blind show is truly one of the best reality shows I’ve watched in a while. But I had more fun listening to you laugh and shit talk those people. You’re fucking funny, it’s so cute.

Oh and guess what? I had a call with your super today! I’m next in line on the wait list for an apartment in your building baby. Hell yeah! It’s honestly really convenient, not only will I be right there whenever you need me, it’s closer to work so I can get home to you even quicker.

Diary Entry: June 18th

I’ve been alittle hesitant to tell you this sweetheart. I just feel real bad about it and I’m not great at sharing my feelings all the time. But I think it’s time I told you.

I just love you so much and I want to be with you all the time. Loving you from a distance is tolerable for now… but is it sustainable? No.

You’re a kind and understanding girl, sweet and caring, so I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that I *just couldn’t stop myself*. Your bed was so soft and the smell of you was so strong that I felt like I could drown in it. I hugged and kissed your pillow like my life depended on it but god… I found one strand of your pretty hair and that was just too much for me.

I’m sorry even though I don’t think you really mind all that much. Or if you do you’ve not said anything about it. It’s just… the fabric was so soft and you’re so pretty and I couldn’t help but think about what life would be like if I could come home to you in bed. Laying there with your pretty little eyes closed.

You’d look just like an angel. Peaceful and full of life, pink cheeks and smooth skin, warm and glowing.

So you can’t really blame me. You understand right? Really it’s your fault for being so damn perfect. But that’s really kind of an oxymoron isn’t it? You’re perfect so it can’t be your fault, but here we are.

Whoever is to be blamed, it doesn’t matter. What matters is: I’m sorry for tearing a hole in your favorite pillow.

Really and truly I’m sorry. I’ll fix it next time I stop by I promise. I just needed… something more you know? My hand just wasn’t good enough, too messy and wasteful. I needed to know that you’d be able to enjoy it too.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but you’ve slept alittle better these last few days haven’t you?

On second thought maybe I shouldn’t close up that hole. If me fucking your pillow and stuffing my cum into the fluffy filling helps you sleep better, well I’d be happy to oblige.

I’m not that kind of guy, I just made a mistake. But, I think you’ll thank me for it in the long run.

Your subconscious just lets you relax alittle more with me around doesn’t it? Even if it is just alittle bit of cum. You need a piece of me with you to feel safe and you don’t even realize it. My poor girl, I’ll make sure you sleep well for the rest of your life.

Eventually I’ll stuff you with my cum every night. Getting fucked to sleep sounds pretty good doesn’t it princess?

Diary Entry: June 24th

I hate to see you disappointed. Oh it just kills me inside angel.

I can’t even chide you for forgetting your debit card because it’s my fault for not making sure you put it back in your backpack after ordering those new shoes. I’m sorry sweetheart.

Don’t worry though. I’ve added a few extra bucks to your wallet, being a dollar short for coffee won’t ever be a problem again.

Realistically that barista was just doing her job and I know that, but the fact that anyone could possibly deny you something that you want is insane to me.

You’ll never have to go without your large vanilla iced coffee on laundry day ever again.

Especially after I saw how grumpy you get.

That little scowl on your face when your favorite washer/dryer were already being used. I would’ve marched over there and dumped out that old ladies wet clothes in the floor for you if you’d only asked.

But if I had then I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy watching you act like a brat out in public. I’ve never seen someone stare daggers through an elderly person like that before, you’re lucky she didn’t have a heart condition because damn that look could’ve killed her.

I’ll help you get that attitude under control soon enough princess. All you need is a good ass whoopin’ and a fat cock to tame you.

Note: Persil, those little blue shakies

PART THREE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky

@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani

@ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil

@sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut

@luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco

@sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra

@jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz

@queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @1mawh0re @lonaah @t8lzw

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

356 notes · View notes