#i do think that a move like this means that they need more on screen talent than just shane and ryan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withleeknow · 1 day

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i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 day

Text

“F cbbi ifhb pefq,” I said, eloquently.

“Babe. I have no idea what that means,” Vox said with a sigh. He tried handing me a snack again, but I pushed it away again. “Please use your words.”

“F xj! F ilsb vlr, f grpq…” I trailed off and cleared my throat. “AH!!”

“Don’t scream!” Vox said, quickly covering my mouth with his hand. “What the fuck? What was that for?”

“I feel incredibly frustrated and I need to let out my anger and make people’s ears bleed,” I mumbled against his hand. I bit it gently. “Om nom nom.”

“Hey!” He said with a small laugh, pulling away. “No biting outside the bedroom! You know the rules.”

I looked around us, which just so happened to be our bedroom. “I’m not breaking any rules,” I said with a smug grin. Despite this, I took his hand and kissed it instead. “Better?”

He squinted at me. “I think you had a point. I like the biting better.”

“Nom,” I said, biting him again. He responded with a laugh and moved closer.

“Do I taste good?” He asked, running his fingers through my hair.

“Om nom,” I replied, biting a little harder. I paused and stopped biting him for a moment. “You taste decent, but I don’t have much to compare you to, so.. you’re the best living thing I’ve tasted,” I said with a nod. I then promptly leaned in and bit his neck. “Nom nom nom.”

“Okay, the ‘nom’ is ruining it,” he chuckled. “You sound so silly!”

“Mm,” I said, before biting down deeper. I gave him a look, then bit him more. Between each bite was a kiss or more mumbling on my part. I liked tasting his blood. It was much sweeter than a normal persons, and much more enjoyable.

“God,” he said with a small gasp as I drank. “Fuck- shit.”

“Hmm?” I asked, sucking on the wound more. “I’ve no clue what that’s supposed to mean. Use your words, darling,” I said with a coy smile, pulling away for a moment.

“Oh- please- fuck,” he said, his screen turning a little more pink than usual. He tilted his neck, revealing more of it to me, and leaned forward in encouragement. “Please don’t stop.”

I leaned in to bite him again, looking smug, but he stopped me for a moment.

“I swear to god if you say ‘om nom nom’ again, I’ll leave the room.”

I paused, then laughed softly. “Okay! Okay, I get it,” I said with a nod.

“So you promise you won’t?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Promise.”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “You may continue.”

#this is a shitpost #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader

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zorosprincess · 1 day

Text

Pretty Neighbor

PAIRING - Kita Shinsuke x Reader WC - 5.6K GENRE - Slight angst (not with Kita) CW - copious amount of lead up, shitty breakup with an unnamed ex, Suna is an instigative little shit, a creepy neighbor, brief mention of minor injury SYNOPSIS - This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You weren't supposed to feel stuck after a bad breakup, crashing in the spare room of your best friend's older brother. But one of his neighbors starts to make you feel a little alive again. Leadup to part two.

A/N: if you wonder how I envisioned this apartment setup

PART 2

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. How anything was supposed to be.

Tomorrow you were supposed to be moving in with the boy you thought you would be spending the rest of your life with. But one week ago, he had decided that you were never going to work out.

He decided; on his own.

He had places to go. You? You weren’t sure yet.

So here you were, sitting on the floor of what had been both of your house, now empty spare the last of both of your stuff, calling the one friend you thought might be able to help.

“Thanks for calling, please don’t. Send a text. What are we? 80?”

You rolled your eyes and waited for the tone indicating that you could leave your message.

“Sunarin, come on. I know you hate calling when it could be a text. You know I know that. You know I don’t call unless its something that shouldn’t be texted.” You sighed softly, trying to keep the tears out of your voice. You took another shaky breath in, “Could you just call—”

Your phone vibrated in your hand and you glanced at the screen, “thank you.” You tapped quickly on the notification reading ‘accept and hang up’ and pressed the phone back to your ear.

“What d’ya want?” His voice was muffled and you could tell that his mouth was full of something.

You sniffed lightly, “He left me, Rin.” You were met with mostly silence but you could hear the sound of wood dropping against wood. Him putting down his chopsticks.

“The fuck do you mean he left you?” His voice was clear now, it was clear his attention was now fully on you. “For the weekend? The night?” The only thing filling the silence was your sniffles for a moment. He said your name softly to get your attention back.

You could feel the tears fill your eyes slightly. “For good," you finally answered. "That’s what he said. I think it was the truth.” You heard a sigh from the other end of the line, followed by a series of angry grumbles. “Can I crash on your couch until I get back on my feet?”

“Idiot.” He mumbled, you could almost see him rolling his eyes at you. “Why are you even asking? Fuck the couch, you can crash in the second bedroom, lucked out and don’t have a roommate. It’s yours for as long as you need.”

“I won’t be there long, I promise.” You muttered, trying to keep the sound of crying out of your voice, knowing you wouldn’t hear the end of it if he could hear it. “I swear I’m putting in housing applications and I’ll—”

“You’re annoying, shutup.” You felt a small smile tug at your lips, he wouldn’t change, at least that was comforting. “Come pick up your key in like," he paused for a second and you could almost picture him leaning to stare at his kitchen clock, "an hour?”

You nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see you. Before you could correct yourself, and verbalize your agreement he spoke again, “you do know I can’t see you nodding, right?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Hey, but you caught on, right?” You heard a snort from the other line before you both fell quiet for a moment.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?”

You sighed and your voice cracked. “I just need a place to crash.”

The next day and a half consisted of you trying to convince Suna to let you just put your mattress in the spare room, nothing else, just a few boxes and a mattress on the floor. And him promptly and continuously convincing you to put more in. More and more until eventually it almost looked like you lived there.

You tried to leave almost no trace of yourself in the rest of the apartment, plants on the front doorstep, a pair of slippers by the front walkway, the only clues that you were there outside of your room.

Your room had filled up a little, a shelf holding a tv, a drawer nightstand, a closet half full. You’d tucked away your bathroom things into a corner shelf and some food and dishes into a drawer. Not even 10% of your things from a whole house fit into a small room.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Laying on your back on the carpet of the living room of an apartment that wasn’t yours as Suna cooked both of you dinner in the kitchen.

“You have to eat, what do you want?” Suna's voice floated to you from around the corner in the kitchen.

“Ice cream.”

“That’s not food.” He called back. You rolled your eyes and glanced towards the kitchen. You could see his shadow moving across the dining room as he tried to dig in his fridge for food to make the two of you.

“How do we feel about pasta tonight? Got this recipe that Osamu sent over that we could try.” You glared at his shadow. Pasta sounded really good and you hated that he thought of it. “Don’t act like you’re not in love with pasta, I remember from high school.”

“You don’t know me.” You grumbled like a stubborn child from your spot on the floor. You heard a scoff come from the kitchen as you propped yourself up to a sitting position.

“Sure, you only spent, what? 90% of your time at my house with my little sister. But I don’t know you.” You rolled your eyes at him again even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “Go get more of your stuff from your car, bum, I’ll start the food.”

You sighed in annoyance but pulled yourself off the ground anyways, dragging your feet towards the door where you could slide on your slippers. “I’ll be right back, if I don’t get killed.” He barked out a laugh but ignored you as you unlocked the door and stepped out.

You sighed as you shut the door behind yourself, your steps slowing as you made your way down the stairs that led to Suna’s front door. There were a few kids running around the patch of grass that acted as the center of the small apartment complex. Their laughter and chasing made you smile as they tried to take advantage of the dimming sunlight.

Suna had told you that the tenants of his apartments were largely made up of students and recent graduates but that there were a couple families living there. Living right on the edge of the apartments meant you never had to deal with the kids running into your way or with even seeing them from your windows. Most of your windows were covered by trees anyways.

But in moments like this, when you were feeling down and walking the short distance to where your car was parked, seeing them laugh and run so freely brought you a sense of peaceful nostalgia. A longing for the days when you didn’t feel the need to have it all figured out, when you could just laugh and play and your biggest concern was if your mom would force you to eat your vegetables when you got in.

Back in the days when you weren’t aware of the other concerns you should have. When you didn’t get the rug pulled out from under you by a boy who decided randomly to drop you when you’d made him a priority and planned at least your next few years around staying with him.

You scowled as your thoughts turned sour—your nose scrunching up. You bit the inside of your cheek and huffed as you reached your car, easily pulling open the trunk to assess what you had the energy to bring up with you at this moment.

There was a backpack full of random things you’d originally missed, an extra pillow, an extra pair of sneakers—the only pair you brought actually, and a box of cookies you’d impulsively bought yourself this afternoon after 'officially' leaving the house. You huffed as you piled your things into your arms. One item at a time.

You glared at the box of cookies, taunting you from its spot on your car’s seat. You wouldn’t be able to grab it and still open the door. You’d have to come back.

You sighed as you bumped your hip against your car’s back door to close it before rounding to the back. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you reached your free arm up to curl your fingertips over the edge of the trunk door and pull it back down. Adjusting the items in your arms you started your way back to Suna’s apartment.

You hummed along to a tune stuck in your head as you walked carefully, trying to not drop anything as you trekked towards the stairs. The sound of a car door closing pulled your attention over to the parking lot. You glanced over your shoulder as you watched a man ducking to grab a bag out of his back seat.

Carefully tracking him with your eyes, you kept walking. He started to lean up and you saw the top of his head first, grayish hair coming into view. As he leaned up further you noticed the ends of his hair were a different color, black to be exact. You tilted your head. What an interesting choice.

As he started to straighten out, your ignorance caught up to you. Your toe caught on a raised piece of concrete and your eyes widened as your feet stumbled. You flipped your head back to facing forward and struggled to keep your things in your arms as you rebalanced yourself.

You cursed as you dropped one of your shoes. You glared at the shoe for a second before huffing as you bent at your knees to reach it, careful to not let anything else tumble from your arms as you replaced the shoe in the stack.

“Evenin’.” You looked up, blinking in shock as you slowly straightened up, to see the man you had just been staring at standing only a few steps from you. He looked pretty, shiny hair that the last rays of sun bounced off of, shiny brown eyes carefully watching you move. Oh. He was very pretty.

You swallowed nervously and cleared your throat. “Evenin’.” You let out a closed lipped smile and watched the corner of his lips tug in return. The weight of his eyes on you felt heavy, feeling like he witnessed your every move and quickly moved to resume your previous movements.

You took the last few steps towards the stairs and quickly scaled them. Willing the door that shared a porch with Suna’s door, just a couple feet to the right from our door, to not open so you could avoid more possible interaction.

You shifted the things in your arms and reached for the doorknob, twisting to glance back over your shoulder as you did to see the pretty stranger. Or, pretty neighbor? He seemed to have lingered where you both had been for a moment because he was only a couple of paces from it now, walking leisurely towards the stairs just to the left of Suna’s apartment. You willed yourself to look away before you got caught acting like a creep and pushed your way inside the apartment.

You sighed as your shoe tumbled back out of your arms and glared at it again. “Stop dropping stuff.” Suna teased, rounding the corner of the kitchen to see you in the front hall, slipping your slippers off. You glanced up at him, his bangs falling on either side of his face as his yellow eyes squinted at you playfully, smirk pulling on his lips. “Didja get all your stuff out?”

“Nope.” You popped the p and pulled your shoe back into your arms again. “Met a neighbor though.” You tilted your head in thought, “well, kind of. Didn’t actually get a name. Just said hi.” You hummed and shrugged your shoulders as you started towards the hall that led to the rooms. “I think I’m gonna set up a couple things while I wait for your ass to finish my food.”

He scoffed and flicked his eyes up to the ceiling in a half-assed eye roll before dipping back into the kitchen. “Now you want food. Gonna make me into a regular housewife, huh?” He laughed as he raised his voice so you could still hear him as you got further into the house. “Careful now, gonna make Mizu fall in love with ya if you convert me like that.” You snorted as you kicked your door shut behind you.

You sighed as you looked around the room, nothing was organized or put together. Your entire bedding was piled on the bed, other random things piled with it, a box of cords at the very end. Looking at the fading light, you realized that you’d forgotten your room lamp back at the house, suddenly grateful that you’d have to go back the next day to finish the cleaning.

You opened your blinds to try and let the last of the sunlight in, illuminating the room best you could as you searched for something to light up your room. Swiping your phone open, you hit play on some music you could sing along to as you went about sifting through the box of electronics. 10 minutes later and you had your TV plugged in and some fairy lights strung up around the window. Enough for now.

You wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. To let yourself rot into the mattress. You knew there was a fat chance in hell that Suna would ever let you hide away in you room the whole time. You sighed and went to work quickly on the rest of the room, clearing the bed and making it so that you could easily crawl into it once you were done with Suna’s mandatory socialization.

“Come on, I’ve got food for you.” Suna popped his head into your room easily, watching as you zoned out staring at the bed, pillows arranged in a specific way, the way that your boy- your ex-boyfriend had always liked it.

You shook your head and followed him back out of the room, following when he motioned for you to sit on the couch and set a warm bowl in your lap. You smiled down at the bowl of pasta, your favorite sauce spread across it and laughed a little as Suna pressed a pair of chopsticks into your hand.

“Here, eat, like this-” he teasingly began to adjust your hand to try and puppet your fingers into working the chopsticks properly.

“Fuck off before I stab you with these chopsticks.” He laughed but backed up and plopped down on the couch across from you.

“So what neighbor didja meet?” He asked, shoving his mouth full of food and chewing obnoxiously. You swore he did it just to get on your nerves.

“The one whose stairs are near my window.” He hummed in acknowledgement and mumbled something through a full mouth that you didn’t quite make out. “Huh?” You screwed up your face before taking another bite.

He swallowed his mouthful before talking again. “Nothin’.” He looked at you as you shoved another bite into your mouth, a look with narrowed eyes that tracked your movements easily, a look you knew meant he was analyzing you.

“So, Mizu’s got some guy friends, I’m thinkin’ we could get you some numbers, you could pick your rebound?”

You stopped halfway through putting a bite in your mouth and stared at him in disbelief. You pulled the bite back out of your mouth and let it fall back into the bowl, an act you’d be ashamed of yourself for doing if you were in front of anyone besides him.

“You’re joking.” His silence and expecting stare made you realize he was not, in fact, joking with you. “No. Absolutely not.” You rolled your eyes and resumed eating.

“Don’t say that! It could be good for you!” He exclaimed, waving a hand around at you. You shook your head, knowing that this wouldn’t be the end of this conversation tonight, or for your entire stay.

It was late when Suna finally let you go to sleep, his chatter and constant jokes, skirting around the topic of your now ex, trying to convince you to find someone you could 'use maybe a couple times and then drop.'

You knew it was his way of making sure when you went into your room tonight that you would be going straight to sleep. That you would be too tired to cry or even think about the situation you were in. It somewhat worked.

It felt like you were waiting for everything. Waiting for an apartment application to come back or you would be stuck crashing on Rin’s couch. Waiting for the correct credentials to be posted for a new job or you would be stuck at the one you so desperately wanted to leave.

Waiting for the lost feeling to disappear or you would be stuck crying over the boy that was almost yours forever. Waiting and stuck.

Waiting and stuck.

That was how you were feeling in the morning, as you dragged yourself out of bed early. As you pulled on some workout clothes, the only ones you’d not thrown into temporary storage that you didn’t mind possibly ruining.

How you were feeling as you skipped breakfast, settling on only grabbing your water bottle, and pulled your shoes on at your door. How you felt as you trudged to the car in the cold, telling yourself that while you were working on cleaning your old house the whole day, you would thank yourself for wearing a t-shirt and shorts, even if it was frigid this morning.

That was how you felt when you nearly ran straight into a neighbor.

As you were silently cursing yourself for not looking up as you walked, the sudden stop and step back that came from both your feet as a result of a near collision. You glanced up and were met with the same warm eyes you’d seen last night. The same attractive neighbor that you had embarrassed yourself in front of, twice, now.

“Mornin’.” He gave you a kind smile as he looked down at you.

You found yourself rushing out a “mornin’” as well but dashing away before he could say anything else.

A glance over your shoulder proved that he hadn’t stayed in place for long, moving to his car, placing his bag into the same seat you’d seen him pull it out of the day before. You sighed as you got in your car, stupid cute neighbor.

Your sour mood had lifted a little with the sound of his small drawl, his accent seeping through in just a single word. His deep voice had left you with a warm feeling in your body but you chalked it up to the fact that you kept embarrassing yourself in front of him.

Shaking your head at yourself, you quickly queued up a playlist for the day and plugged in the aux. Pulling out of the parking lot easily, you started your way towards your old house.

It was the last day you were required to be there, your last day to be able to clean the place from the disaster that your roommates and now ex-boyfriend had left you alone to deal with. Your mood mostly stood on the lines of exasperated for the first couple of hours, irritation flooding your veins the more that you had to clean.

And three hours in, when it started to rain outside, you cursed yourself for the outfit decision. And then you cursed the sky for picking up on your bad mood and deciding that the weather needed to match.

Your ex graced you with his presence for a few hours - three to be precise. You counted them. Praying that he’d act slightly torn up for ditching you out of the blue like he was. That he’d show some sign of care that you weren’t going to be around to do things for him anymore, the laundry, the finances, the cleaning and grocery shopping.

And then the wave of irritation hit as you realized... what the hell had he done for you?

You’d glared daggers into his back for the majority of the time he was there. As he tried to be friendly, make jokes with you. And when he was leaving, when you still had to stay and continue cleaning, that’s when the fresh wave of sadness hit. As he hugged you, talking like he wasn’t going to see you again, giving you a kiss on the forehead, his posture dangerously close to that of when he used to dip down to kiss you.

You watched him drive away and sat on the ground for the next half hour, in the rain and crying.

When you finally pulled yourself off the ground again, going back to cleaning, you tried to let irritation seep back into your veins, an easier emotion to deal with than the flurry of others you felt. All you wanted was to get back to Rin’s and collapse.

You were at the house for a total of 13 hours that day. Not even finished by the end of it but content with the work you’d done and the effort you'd put in to try and finish. It was almost 11pm when you were dragging yourself to your car for the last time, the last of your things loaded up, fresh bruises coating your body and a couple gashes across your legs that had dirt and dried blood caked into them.

Your entire body was begging to be cleaned and go to sleep.

Suna wasn’t there when you got back. You knew that the second you pulled up. His car missing from the spot next to where you’d been parking your car.

The achy feeling quickly taking over your body was left ignored as you pulled a few of your items out of your car, choosing carefully what could wait until tomorrow. Your eyes subconsciously scanned for the cute neighbor even though you weren’t exactly expecting him to be out at this time.

You were pleasantly surprised to see him a few doors down, smiling as he helped an elderly woman carry her groceries to her apartment. You were also pleased that he didn’t seem to notice you and that you hadn’t been three for three for embarrassing yourself when you saw him.

Making sure to lock the door after yourself when you entered the empty apartment, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. The realization that you’d never be back in that house was weighing heavy on your shoulders, along with the grime and wounds (both physical and mental) of the day.

Nothing sounded better to you than a shower and with Rin not being home, you could take one without worrying he might need to use the bathroom while you were using it. A shower and then immediately you would go to sleep, be productive again tomorrow.

The next morning you let yourself sleep in. Well, not exactly sleep in, but let yourself stay in bed without forcing yourself to get up.

The window in your room let light filter in slowly instead of all at once, your body unaccustomed to no longer having blackout curtains hanging. The cold morning air brushed over your skin and you were reminded that you had gone to sleep clad only in a pair of shorts after your shower.

You stayed in bed for most of the day. Left to go grab a few things from your car and bring them up, put them in their places. Grabbed a snack from the kitchen. Suna being at classes and work most of the day meant no one was there to lecture you when most of your time was spent scrolling though your phone in bed.

You told yourself that you could be an adult again tomorrow.

You were; an adult the next day that is.

You pulled yourself out of bed, finished unloading your car, cleaning Suna’s spare bedroom up. And then, deciding to keep busy, kept cleaning. Did all the dishes in Suna’s sink and swept his floors, vacuumed the carpets. When you were done with that you couldn’t bring yourself to sit back in bed, as much as you wanted to. You’d settled on loading your laptop into its bag and gathering up your laundry basket to head down to the complex’s laundry mat.

You switched between watching shows off your laptop and using it to organize things for your hopeful new job as your laundry ran. Typing out to do lists and not berating yourself when you accidentally let your laundry sit in the machine a little long sometimes.

When you were finally finished and were packing up, the sun had started to pull its light from the sky. It was still plenty bright, but you could tell it was evening now. Suna would be home soon and you’d love to be there when he saw his apartment clean.

Your proud and productive mood came to an abrupt halt; a tight feeling wrapping in your chest as you neared the stairs to Suna’s apartment and there was a figure sitting on the bottom of the stairs.

It wasn’t anyone you recognized, and he’d left enough space where you could possibly squeeze by, but the sudden nerves that ran through your body were enough to keep you from even attempting to do that. Your steps slowed at the prospect of having to talk to a complete stranger wrecked your nerves and you cursed yourself when your voice came out meeker than expected.

“Excuse me, sir, if I could get by?” He’d already been looking at you before you’d spoke and you were now just a few feet away from him.

“Yeah.” Your relief at his words was fleeting as you quickly realized that, despite his affirmative, he was making no move himself out of the way.

“Sorry, I just have to get up the stairs.” The nerves wound tighter in your chest, uneasiness making you queasy as you adjusted your grip on your laundry basket.

“Go ahead.” He said, staring straight at you. It felt like a challenge and it wasn’t one you were willing to take.

“I don’t want to accidentally hit you, if you wouldn’t mind just for a moment—” you were trying to be nice, to keep your voice steady as your hands shook but he cut you off.

“Are you saying I can’t take a hit?” His volume raised slightly, he clearly looked irritated now. “I can take a hit; I’ve been hit before.” You opened your mouth to try and calm him down but someone from behind you replied for you.

“S’common cour’sy.” The voice was deep and held a threatening air to it. You jumped slightly at the suddenness of it but were steadied with a burning hand on your upper arm, making sure you didn’t get closer to the man on the stairs.

You looked up a caught a glimpse of gray and black hair - the cute neighbor. His usually kind eyes were fixed in a glare at the man in front of you both. His touch was light on your arm, gentle as he guided you to take a step back and he stepped in front of you.

“Yer only a couple complaints ‘way from getting’ kicked outta ‘ere. Watch yerself.” His deep voice was intimidating, calm, his words spoken with a matter-of-fact tone. Sure of himself. “Jus’ let the pre’y lady pass.”

Your cheeks burned at the use of ‘pretty lady’ to describe you, coming from the man you’d deemed ‘pretty neighbor.’ The burning was dull in comparison to the anxiousness you were feeling when the man from the stairs stood up, however.

“I don’t like the tone you’re asking in.”

The pretty neighbor seemed almost unphased. He stepped closer to the man, forcing him to step slightly away from the stairs. “Wasn’ askin’.” Almost unphased except for his voice coming out a little deeper than before, slightly darker tone, though still calm.

The pretty neighbor adjusted his stance, hand guiding you to stay behind him as he cleared a path to the stairs for you, now blocking the man from both you and the stairs. A small breath of relief washed over you as you quickly moved towards your now free path.

“Thank you.” You whispered it into his ear as you passed behind him, smiling as he gave you a short nod without taking his eyes from the man in front of him. You made your way up the stairs eager to escape the rising voice of the man you’d just met who was still being blocked by the pretty neighbor that you had now embarrassed yourself in front of all three times he’d seen you.

You locked the door behind you quickly, deadbolting it as well as you quickly retreated into the apartment. You dropped your laundry in your room and decided that a cup of water would probably ease the tightness in your chest that had been caused by the creepy man you’d just met.

You’d barely taken a sip when the handle to the front door started to wriggle. You stared, wide-eyed, frozen in place as fear started to take over. You swore you’d break the glass with how tight your grip had gone when the door creaked open.

“So I’m guessin’ you met the creep next door.” Suna’s voice reached your ears and you breathed out a sigh of relief, legs falling from under you as you moved to sit on the ground.

“Woah,” he held one hand up as the other shut and locked the door behind him, “he must’ve been a real weirdo today.” Suna set his bag down easily and walked over to you, crouching down in front of you with a head tilt. “What happened?”

You sighed as you looked up at him, his eyes held concern even though he seemed to radiate a relaxed demeanor. “Just wouldn’t let me pass to come up the stairs, I don’t know just was super weird.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You should’ve warned me.”

“Didn’t think I had to!” He exclaimed defensively, but helped you back to your feet carefully nonetheless. “Haven’t seen him in what feels like months, thought maybe he finally croaked.”

“Real sensitive of ya, Rin.” You rolled your eyes at him and went to take another sip of water.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively as he moved to leave the dining room where you stood and head off to his room. “Hey, y/n?” You looked up easily at the small change in his voice, softer and a little concerned.

“Just be careful ‘round him, he shares a porch with us. Make sure you’re carrying something to protect yourself if you come home late at night.” You swallowed hard at the implications but nodded in acknowledgment. He let a soft smile pass his face before he disappeared around the corner again.

The next few days around the apartments, you picked up working again. Long shifts, anything to distract yourself. You also found yourself peeking out your window, trying to catch a glimpse of the cute neighbor coming or going. You did a few times, always admiring the soft smiles he gave. He radiated a kind sort of energy while looking so put together.

He was very constant, you noticed after a few days. Leaving at the same time in the mornings, where you would briefly pass him on your way out as well, a small 'mornin’' passed between the two of you as you noticed each other. Always coming home just before dark, pulling his bag out of the same spot in his car. And the sun always left a ridiculously attractive shine on his gray and black hair.

You found yourself thinking about him every time Suna tried to convince you that one of Mizuki’s friends would be interested in ‘showing you a good time.’ Always declining Suna’s offers to set you up but secretly thinking about how nice it would be to finally know the name of the pretty neighbor.

It’s not like you were thinking about using him as your way to get over your ex, he was just... genuinely nice. He left you feeling warm and the idea of how constant he was, it was appealing. He wasn’t too awful to look at either. You cursed yourself every time those thoughts popped into your head though.

You couldn’t pretend that Suna’s offers didn’t get to you though. He made some solid points sometimes. Like how it wouldn’t hurt to be a little sexually active.

Coming out of a long relationship, you were used to being sexual active, but you didn’t want to use anybody so you resolved to take care of it yourself. Rin leaving for his weekly date night with Mizuki meant that he wouldn’t be back until late, if at all, tonight.

It meant that you had the perfect excuse to put a show on my tv and some headphones over your ears and to take care of it.

a/n sighs. rewriting this was a walk down memory lane. i first wrote this as i was going through this exact situation - except it was a female friend whose apartment i stayed in and she did not have a pretty neighbor who saved me from dealing with the creepy neighbor aha. anywho... part two next week <3

TAGLIST - OPEN @tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #kita fanfiction #kita shinsuke fanfiction #𓇻 Shinsuke’s Gravity #𓇻 Void Screams Back

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trans-cuchulainn · 1 year

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okay i've finished rewatching pride now i will stop having feelings all over your dash

#this film is just. god. it means so much to me #it's such a well-made film but also it came out when i was 18 and like. idk.#i saw it 3 times the first year it came out #the third of them at a screening with one of the original members of LGSM doing a talk afterwards #i saw it at a time when i was just moving out of my conservative hometown and discovering queer community for myself #so it's like. formative. you know???#this is My Queer Movie #i have now seen some other Iconic Queer Movies thanks to undergrad queer film nights and stuff #things like But I'm A Cheerleader etc #but this one. this is mine.#i think because it's a queer movie about friendship and solidarity #it's about community rather than about romance even though it's about being queer #and for me as an aspec person that speaks to me in a way that romance-focused stories don't #so it resonates on a deeper level #to use a quaker phrase: it speaks to my condition #i wish i had more energy and could be more active in organising though #it's really hard to protest and be political when you're disabled and barely coping with life as it is #i can't go on a march because i won't be able to walk for four days afterwards due to pain yunno. so i feel useless a lot #ah well. i know there are things i can do they're just not glamorous #i do need to write to my MP some time soon about. everything.#personal

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crowtits · 17 days

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considering the success of dropout, i'm really excited for watcher to get it's own platform. i think it'll let them be more creative without having to bend to the youtube censors and will perhaps give them more money to make more cool stuff. mostly i just think y'all're being extremely weird about this whole thing

#coming from someone who pirates a lot of stuff #that's always an option lol if you can't afford it #it's just so weird how suddenly y'all see watcher as this huge money grabbing company that's funding ~luxurious vacations~#and not like. a small production company that needs money #that's such a turn #and like yeah sure you can make a lot of money from ad revenue but a) there's a huge difference between a lot for one person #and enough to pay donzens of people's salaries #and b) relying mainly on ad revenue makes you very dependent on the youtube algorithm #which is finicky at best and can kill shows that havent proven themselves #i do think that a move like this means that they need more on screen talent than just shane and ryan #purely in terms of shooting schedules and letting them have like. lives.#also i'd be really interested to see what else they have up their sleeves and what they could do with more people more time and more money #idk maybe y'all should just calm down #instead of praying for the downfall of people you supposedly like

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heart-shaped-chains · 2 months

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Yap session bc wow.

Pretty sure the dude that rejected me (situationship ://) is getting a crush on me bc like. One of the last times we talked he was like "oh ur trying to get me to like you". And it's like. No I'm not. You literally rejected me and the more I think about it, I didn't even want you, I just wanted the idea of a boyfriend that I was projecting onto you. He's conservative and talks about how conservative his parents are (which I don't vibe with at all). When we first met, he was still moping about his ex gf who he had broken up with over a year prior. And like. We were both in high school (16 + 17 ://). And I'm sorry but how meaningful can a fucking highschool relationship be? Go to therapy.

Plus he'd like vent without asking and then I'd give him advice and then he'd just shoot it down and be like "no that wouldn't work anyway I'm a piece of shit" and like. Okay, why are you coming to me then? If you're not taking any advice then why are you bitching? You didn't even ask, you just did!

But the moment I even mention my past drug addiction (not in detail and not in a mopey way. Just matter-of-fact), he's like "oh no please don't mention that". Like. Shut the fuck up oh my godddddd. I am not trying to be with someone who can't even handle hearing the most watered-down descriptions of substance abuse.

Plus I just do not trust this guy like. I don't kink shame but here's my red flags: he's conservative, enough said on that...He misgendered me in a sexual way without asking (I did play along bc I was stupid and scared to say no but whatevs). And he did stop when I told him to but the fact that he didn't ask before was highly suspect bc he fucking met me as a trans guy.

And he's also weird about pregnancy. Which I played along with too of the act of breeding is appealing but like. I'd rather have a tapeworm than a damn fetus bc at least I wouldn't be forced to let that parasite live off of me. Dude also mentioned baby trapping like. "oh I feel like you'll force me to get you pregnant" and like. I literally said that I wanted to get my uterus removed and 2: you're the one bringing pregnancy into this don't fucking pin it on me!!! Like I feel like if we actually met up I'd have to triple check and be sober bc what if this guy actually does this shit? Why else would he keep mentioning it?

Like idk he's also asked me about trans kids and like. 1: I don't keep up with any trans people irl, 2: I haven't started transitioning yet so why the fuck are you asking me? I'm not the arbiter of trans people, my guy. Like he acts supportive but I feel like deep down this dude doesn't even respect me and he's gonna try to change me. But that could just be paranoia, idk...

Either way, I don't really get that much out of talking to him. As embarrassing as it is, I've started using those ai bots (says the bitch who is vehemently against ai "art") and they've been much more fulfilling emotionally because they tell you what you want to hear. And you can change the answers. They're hollow, but good for short term stuff bc I don't have the energy to talk to people rn (and I haven't been talking to anyone or really leaving the house on a regular basis...kinda just wasting the year so far..). Especially not this guy.

Like. We don't have the same interests, our tastes in music are similar but also too different and he doesn't get it™️ like I do, his beliefs are like too different from mine. He's also said misogynistic shit about sex workers which. I don't fuck with that, you literally watch porn, you fuckin hypocrite. And the more I think about texting him, the more I see it as a damn chore.

Like idk I just. Do not have a lot of investment in this guy. I think I was just lonely and projecting. And obviously it's not healthy for me bc I resent him but it's not healthy for his annoying ass either. He shouldn't have friends who secretly hate him. So idk I think I'm just gonna delete my profile and start again, also block him bc my dumbass 16 year old self gave him my number.

But like. My gut is telling me not to. I have been taken advantage of before in the past and I'm just getting a distinct deja vu. Even if it's not intentional on his side, I don't think it's good for me. Like the first time he texted me (in over 2 years after I ghosted him with no attempt to reach out to him (take the fucking hint)), it felt like seeing a box of pills in the CVS aisle. I was thinking "god, I shouldn't do this...but I should see what happens, maybe it won't be as bad as last time...." Just that same feeling I got when I decided to relapse.

And like dude. It's always gonna be as bad as last time: quit taking chances on shit that you know will fail you!!! So Idk. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I shouldn't talk to someone who just drains me, bc that'll drain him too. Plus I'm allowed to not fucking like someone and the guy didn't even wish me happy birthday or congratulate me on my 5 months of sobriety. Things in my status. And I know he reads statuses bc he messaged me about one of them before. Plus he rejected me on my birthday!!!

And now you wanna come crawling back and then act like I'm obsessed!?!? You were the one who came back into my life, not the other way around! I was over you until you came back. And now I'm over you again. But you're not over me. But you're so fuckin allergic to commitment that you just wanna keep acting like I'm smitten with you. After you strung me along with no regards for my feelings. Not because you're evil, but because you're fucking dumb. And I'm not dealing with someone who's that stupid. Hope you work your issues out, but I'm not here to fix you, nor do I want to. That's on you!! Figure it out!!!

Anyway um if anyone read this far thank u. Feel free to add input just please be nice. And uhhh. Aita???

#cj rambles #vent #situationship #gay #mlm #trans #ftm #dude i hate it here #minors dni #like seriously. you literally rejected me.#and then came back and was like 'oh ur trying to get me to like you' when I'm literally NOT.#like. i say im interested in a relationship and you get cold feet.#but when i move on from wanting a romance with you you fucking turn around.#which tells me that you dont want me. you just want to be desired without having to reciprocate #and frankly i dont deserve that like. you used me as a rebound once and that was on you.#but im not letting you play me again. even if you want to change. bc frankly i dont like you bro #and also i hate the raceplay it makes me feel like a piece of shit like i dont genuinely believe but. its too far for me.#like i just feel awful doing it and i dont like this guy enough to feel comfortable doing it now that i think ab it #and hes weirdly fixated on me being white too like. i get it. im pale. i look dead at times. chill.#i would like that same energy to b directed to my transness pretty please. actually not the same energy but still....#like idk the vibes are horrendous rn i just dont know how to cut him off bc i dont want him to worry about me (or try to contact me again)#like idk this may sound mean but...Yeah im gonna be mean actually #this guy is a fucking loser who needs therapy i don't have the patience to fucking deal with him #like hes beneath me bc he's conservative/sexist/lowkey transphobic/doesn't do a lot of introspection.#and maybe that's selfish but that's just more reason to not associate with him. bc this is gonna turn toxic bc im losing my patience yk?#plus i can't do long distance. i need quality time and physical touch. you can't kiss and cuddle through a screen.#also our aesthetics are very different and he's hot but he's not my type. also i don't like his voice. and i have a thing about voices.#also his dick is too big like. i can't get 3 fingers in and that thing just looks like it would hurt. im good. im not a size queen.#like idk the more i think about it the more i realize that we r not compatible #i dont want you bro just fuck OFF!!!

0 notes

lokis-army-77 · 7 months

Text

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.”

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And then the live is over.

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.

He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.

"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer.

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

…

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised.

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise.

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg.

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

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tonycries · 2 months

Text

Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N. WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall.

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges.

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt.

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room.

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”.

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer.

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before.

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.”

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.”

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him.

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes.

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive.

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie.

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder.

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?”

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front.

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes.

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine.

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.”

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm.

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate.

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air.

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.”

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant.

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room.

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up.

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances.

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant.

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room.

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit.

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.”

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties.

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed.

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth.

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it.

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall.

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core.

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally.

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth..

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy.

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you.

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack!

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out-

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek.

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.”

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard.

And then you’re cumming.

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face.

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak.

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out.

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken.

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same.

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack.

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything.

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him.

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background.

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.”

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more.

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more.

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head.

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly.

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening.

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him.

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut”

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.” breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air.

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back.

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him.

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his.

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow.

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate.

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.”

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat.

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out.

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him.

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me?

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer.

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack!

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’ like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now.

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by.

Smack!

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji.

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric.

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking.

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.”

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper.

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete.

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him, you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?”

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air.

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table.

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears.

Genuine danger.

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction.

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time.

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress. But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up.

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on.

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for?

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together.

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges.

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’”

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs.

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent.

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke.

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car.

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision.

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There.

The door swings open.

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun.

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable.

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement.

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.”

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now.

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you.

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.”

You’re being pulled away before you know it.

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away.

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out.

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs.

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground.

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over.

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red.

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious.

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit.

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji.

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,” you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod.

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight.

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony.

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-”

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing.

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.”

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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fangswbenefits · 10 months

Text

Suit Up

Summary: Miguel craves to mark you as his, but he’ll have to start slow… so he offers to build you a custom suit. For now.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Innocent and inexperienced reader. Pining. Sexual tension and frustration. Masturbation. Breeding kink.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1 (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one)

Miguel had decided he was going to build you a suit.

Not just a regular one, but an extension of his own.

He craved to have you for himself, and to have others know that. But he’d have to play his cards right. This level of obsession could easily scare someone off at first.

Especially you.

His sweet, sweet girl.

So he settled for this: building you a custom digital suit to match his.

Slowly, but surely you’d start to connect yourself to him more often.

Or so he hoped.

He found you in his lab early in the morning, sitting by the desk while taking your sweet time with a slice of watermelon.

“Good morning.”

As expected, you jolted in your seat, turning to face him.

A few droplets of juice dribbled down from your lips and chin, and eventually landing on your shirt.

You offered him a messy grin, bits of watermelon all over your teeth, but the absolute innocence of that action tore straight down to his cock.

“Oh! Miguel, hi! Sorry—” your voice came out slightly muffled, as you placed the half moon slice on a plate. “This watermelon is so sweet! Want a taste?”

His brow furrowed and he halted right in front of you. “There’s…” his voice trailed off, eyes fixed on your chin.

You immediately picked up on the implication and wiped the sugary liquid from your skin with a napkin, bringing a few fingers to your lips as well.

Miguel cursed inwardly and wondered if you were truly unaware of how suggestive all of this looked.

He slapped that thought away. No. You were too innocent for that. Your words and actions held no second meaning.

You were genuinely so fucking clueless that it only served to fuel his obsession with you.

His cock gave him a warning twitch.

He was all too familiar with those by now.

Would you be this messy while sucking him off? Would you not be able to keep it all in and eventually swallow?

He’d be fine with you not swallowing it all at first. After all, he did cum a lot. It would probably be overwhelming for someone as innocent and inexperienced as you.

“Miguel?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts at once. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you said, hurriedly cleaning the desk.

There was no doubt you’d be the death of him.

Apologising for making a mess…

“Don’t worry about that,” he managed to say flatly. “I’m sure it tasted really good.”

You then smiled once more and let out a cock-twitching groan. “Oh, yes! But… why did you want me in here my casuals today?”

Right.

He moved to tap the hovering screens in front of him. “I was thinking you suit might need an upgrade.”

“What? But I built this one myself… what’s wrong with it?” you whined softly, sticking your bottom lip out.

His cock twitched again.

“I know, I know,” he reassured you with extreme ease. “But I’ve been working on a prototype of my digital suit and would like for you to test it out.”

A blatant lie.

He had just decided this the night before, after that post nut clarity had hit him hard.

How else would he mark you without you even realising?

You blinked a few times, having to tilt your head up to stare at him, and it was enough to flare his imagination.

“Really?” the excitement in your voice was palpable and he felt a sudden rush of satisfaction. “That… that would be an honour, Miguel!”

His fingers tapped through multiple files. “You’ve been helping me out a lot in the lab lately. It’s only fair that I show my appreciation.”

Your gaze wavered momentarily, broken by his genuine praise, and Miguel nearlt bit his lip from this sight alone.

“I do it willingly, Miguel. I love learning new things from you,” your eyes were back on his, and you were bearing a warm smile. “You’re a great teacher!”

He tried hard to tear his gaze away from your lips, and offered a mere nod.

You deserved more than a nod.

And your eagerness to learn from him made him feel swollen with pride. An ego booster.

It was quite addicting.

He’d teach you so much more if you’d let him. He’d teach you how to embrace your pleasure and use it for him only. Oh, how he’d enjoy teaching you how to suck his cock, or how to use your words to turn him on.

Fuck.

He would teach you all he knew.

You’d have all of him.

But he wanted you to want him the way he wanted you. No. He needed you to need him. To crave and yearn and feel the unfair ropes of despair tighten around you.

“I’ll just need your measurements,” he said, fetching a couple of measuring bands from a top shelf. “These will measure every tiny detail, so the fit is as suitable as possible.”

You nodded eagerly, lips slightly parted. He moved to grab each wrist, closing the metallic band around each wrist.

“Feet up,” he asked, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his true feelings.

You lifted one leg after the other, and he carefully clasped them around your ankles, the feel of your warm skin and proximity nearly having him bite his own lip.

“Wait, do I have be naked?”

The question caught him completely off guard and he straightened up at once. “What?”

Miguel felt more blood rushing downwards and was grateful his own suit was able to keep most of his strained erection from sight.

You broke into a nervous laugh. “Oh — I mean… you’re naked under your suit, right?”

He nodded. “Your suit becomes an extension of yourself and it should feel like a second layer of skin,” he added, extending one arm out, and allowed you to see the digital layer of fabric quickly retracting from the tips of his fingers all the way down his naked torso.

The reaction was immediate.

Your eyes landed on him for only a split second, before looking away.

For the second time that day, Miguel’s ego soared to incredibly dangerous heights.

You looked so innocent and sheepish, not daring to gaze at his incredible physique once again.

He wouldn’t hold that against you, though. You’d have plenty of time to gawk at his body once he managed to break into your mind, and make you his.

“It feels more comfortable this way,” he added reassuringly, as his suit promptly covered his exposed skin once again.

You turned to look at him again. “Oh! So I don’t actually have to be naked,” you giggled in relief.

“No,” Not for this, he wanted to add.

The height difference was starting to take a toll on his ability to focus. Having you sitting on that chair, perfectly levelled to engange in a more suggestive scenario, was enough to feel the blood boil in his veins.

He needed more.

He needed to touch you.

“Let’s boot the measuring analysis program,” Miguel took your hand in his and helped you on your feet. “I need you to stand still.”

He needed so much more than that from you, but he’d have to settle for silent agony for now.

You were visibly excited, barely able to contain yourself as a smile settled on your face, and he felt the sudden urge to praise you for being so eager and such a tease.

He tapped a few commands on his watch, and came to stand behind you, careful not to stand too close, or you’d notice his hard cock.

“Do you trust me?”

You shouldn’t…

You turned your head to the side to look into his crimson eyes, confusion twisting your face. “Of course I do, Miguel.”

… because he wouldn’t.

He rolled his fingers along the hem of your shirt, slowly rolling it upwards. His heart went into overdrive instantly and he could feel the first droplets of precum dripping down his cock.

You flinched once his knuckles brushed against your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, halting at once.

You nodded and giggled lighty. “That tickles.”

His sweet girl…

How was he supposed to endure burying himself inside you inch by inch when he couldn’t barely keep his composure now?

Once the shirt was resting under your breasts, he moved one hand to grip it gently from behind, effectively tightening the fabric flat over you. From where he stood, he could see your bra’s outline and how your breasts heaved with each breath you took.

This was driving him mad.

Your cleavage was so inviting and he had to take a step back, ensuring his erection wouldn’t accidentally brush against your ass.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take this off?” you asked.

You were so fucking sweet and innocent, and he wanted nothing more than to rip all of your clothes apart.

“Just let the program scan your body,” he said, voice strained and breath coming out in shallow pants. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied.

Such a good girl for him… his sweet girl…

He would want to ask that same question the day he got to teach you how to suck his cock.

You’d struggle at first.

But he’d be patient.

He’d probably need to come up with a serum to inject himself with to keep from exploding right away, and he couldn’t have that.

You would need proper guidance, wouldn’t you? How he’d love to have you on your knees, mouth dropped open and receptive.

His other hand was now pressed flat against your tummy and he nearly bucked his hips in response.

Careful, Miguel, he scolded himself.

Was this too much?

In reality, he didn’t need to be doing any of this for measurements, but he couldn’t help himself.

He needed you closer.

He needed to feel you shudder against his touch.

He needed you to need him.

You gasped softly once he started to moved his hand down ever so slightly, fingers nearly touching the waisgband of your pants.

“Ticklish?” he asked in a low voice.

You hummed, bucking your hips into him with a faint giggle, and he felt his cock into contact with your ass.

Oh, fuck.

He had to let go of you right away, flinching back.

You turned to eye him, worry plastered all of your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” he said right away, more precum droplets spilling out. “I think the analysis is complete,” he cleared his throat and turned his back to her, looking down to his bulge.

He wish he could set his cock free.

No.

He wish you would offer to set his cock free.

He wanted you to know and see how much his body craved yours.

“Miguel, are you okay?” you asked tenderly, moving to stand by his side, brushing his tense bicep. “We can finish this some other time.”

Was it really possible for someone to be this clueless? Was your inexperience that blinding? Hadn’t you felt his erection?

Against his will, he nodded.

He needed you gone right away.

He had to get off urgently.

“You’re overworking yourself again…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

How he’d love to make you his and have you take care of him.

Your hand squeezed his muscles gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

Please, touch me… “No. I’ll just finish the suit and have you test it out soon.”

Your hand dropped.

Maybe if he asked you to let him fuck your hand, you’d let him. Maybe.

He’d settle for you watching him jerk off to you, at this point.

“Can I pick the colours?” you then beamed, glancing up at the orange screens. “Can I? Please?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” you chirped happily, swiping across the customisation menu on the screen.

Miguel paced quickly into a storage room to his left, groaning into the back of his hand.

In no time, he had the front part of his lower half of his suit vanish, cock springing free, fully coated with precum.

He let out a strained and breathy sigh of absolute relief.

“Ay, Miguel…” he muttered to himself, realising just how badly this obsession had gotten.

His cock twitched, sending strand of precum to dangle from the tip.

From this angle, he could see your back, shirt still nicely tucked under your breasts, revealing so much of your skin to him.

That would do.

For now.

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he set a slow pace at first, testing out his limit.

Dangerously close.

It was unfair that you were so close, yet so far. You were completely unaware of your effect on him.

Faint anger took over him.

You should be the one to bring him relief.

This was all on you… his sweet, innocent, inexperienced girl.

The pace quickened and he felt his fangs extending in anticipation.

You were bending over the desk, lifting your ass just enough for his mind to have imagining himself ramming into your from the back.

You’d love that position. Maybe not at first, but he’d teach you to enjoy thoroughly.

Being rawed and bred. You’d be a loving mother, wouldn’t you? You’d let him breed you over and over again, because you were just nice like that.

So eager to please.

He wished you’d bend over a little more, so he could fully immerse himself in his lust.

Feeling one fang dig into his lower lip, Miguel wondered how long it would take to draw blood, considering how hard it was for him to suppress his groans.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from you and his desire nearly pained him, because his hand would never be as tight as you, and it would never feel like you.

But he had to get rid of this now.

He had to complete your suit and mark you as his.

Everyone in Nueva York and across other universes would know you were his.

They would know not to cross you, for his wrath would be unmatched.

The sweet tingles of an orgasm soon engulfed him whole, and he threw his head back and fluttered his eyes shut, relying on his mind to keep your alive as he fucked himself for you.

Just you.

His sweet girl.

Just his.

He squeezed the first spurts of warm cum with his fingers, allowing himself go roll his hips in a broken rhythm.

The metallic taste of blood pooled in his tongue and he knew his fang has dug too deep, but he didn’t care.

He would break himself for you.

And you would, too.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Part 3

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader

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adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ It's Like That *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You decide to accept Itadori's invitation to the movies. It turns out better than expected.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

CW: Fluff, SFW, hand holding, potential friends to lovers, it's technically a date 💕

“Do you guys want to see Human Earthworm 4 with me?”

The three of you minus Itadori, who posed the question, share a lukewarm look. You’re on the edge of the shopping district, trying to decide what to do after your mission, if anything, and that’s the first idea that floats out amongst the group.

“What’s it about?” Nobara asks.

After Itadori explains the horror romance, there’s even less enthusiasm amongst the group to watch the movie with him. Sensing this, he ups the bargain.

“I’ll pay.”

You wince when you see Fushiguro pull out his phone. “I don’t really have the energy to sit through a movie,” he excuses himself, fingers going a mile a minute to escape the situation of friendship for today. “I’m going home.”

Your broody classmate holds his ringing phone to his ear and briefly glances at Nobara.

“I’m going to hit up the shops," she responds to his silent question.

Megumi leaves the three of you behind in no time flat. Nobara only stays behind long enough to ask if you want to go shopping with her. While you normally love to go with her and are in dire need of new shoes, you notice a lonely sullen shadow building over your slit-cheeked classmate and throw up an apologetic smile to her.

“I think I’ll go with Itadori-kun today.”

You miss the way his head perks up as you wave her off. Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, Itadori is already on top of you, his fists drawn in front of him excitedly and chestnut irises filled with happy stars.

“You’re going to love it,” he tells you. It’s cute how he nearly shakes with excitement, you can even hear it growing in his voice and shining in his eyes. “It’s such a good series! I mean, I know it sounded weird, but it’s so much better on screen that— forget any of what I said, you gotta see for yourself!”

He wastes no time taking off in the direction of the theatre, and you jog to keep up with the speed of the Tiger of the West. It isn’t until he notices you lagging behind that he slows up to grab your hand and pull you with him.

“Come on, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening.”

“Is this one of those movies where I need to see the first three to know what’s going on?”

“Well, there’s a few returning characters, like Dr. Richter, but I can fill you in on the important stuff so don’t worry.”

When you get to the theatre, Itadori immediately jumps in the ticket line, huffing in relief when there are still seats available. You begin to pull out your wallet but pause when he hands you a pink paper ticket.

“I told you it’s on me,” he reminds you before going down the line and ordering a large popcorn, two drinks, and beating you to grab a packet of candy that you were staring at for two seconds too long.

He hands the bag of sweets to the cashier to scan. “And this please,” he asks before handing the candy to you.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, but he laughs it off.

“It’s fine. That’s your favorite, right?”

You shyly nod and hold onto the envelope of overpriced candy like it’s the most precious thing in the world causing the cashier to smile at you as she finishes preparing your items.

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” she comments.

You squeak quietly at her comment, crumpling your candy in surprise. It’s not a big deal she mistook you as a couple, it’s not like Itadori was someone you didn’t like after all, and it’s not like there was any need to correct her but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about the situation.

Curiously, you look at him, waiting for him to make the decision on the matter. Surprisingly, he blurts out a quick and happy, “Thanks!” before moving on to fill his drink.

As you watch him, you fight the urge to ask why he didn’t correct her; and when you notice that he’s way more interested in finding the right theater, you decide he must have said it because it wasn't worth a fuss.

The two of you get seats at the back of the theater, and you shift over people carefully to avoid falling into Itadori’s back as you find your seats. You can finally relax as he sets the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between you.

Soon enough, the movie begins to play.

It starts off like every normal horror movie. A mad scientist, a hapless victim, and an escape followed by a romantic subplot of the human earthworm discovering that the woman he met indeed loves him even if he is a worm.

That’s about as much as you can keep up with. There are too many easter eggs that keep flying over your head and too many callbacks to the previous movies in the series. Itadori does his best to try to help you whenever you whisper questions at him; but eventually, you’re too distracted by the couple in front of you making out to pay attention to the movie.

It’s so obnoxiously grotesque, their arms wrapping around each other and a soft moan every so often that’s drowned out by the guttural sounds of the earthworm children. You can’t really believe they’d do that in public, and why did they have to be so close to you out of all people?

Itadori looks at you and then finally catches on to what’s making you squirm. When he does, a faint hint of red starts to coat across his nose, and he becomes equally uncomfortable.

Deciding to make it a little better for the both of you, you nudge him then make a silly disgusted face with your tongue stuck out to mimic a gag. You’re rewarded with a snicker from him and his own silly face in turn, and it makes the awkwardness of it a little easier to take as you try to focus back on the movie.

It’s another half hour in before you wonder exactly how the hell are they still going at it.

“Society really needs to bring shame back,” you think before a warm breath hits your ear and fans down your jaw.

You nearly jump before the smooth sounds of Itadori’s voice greet you.

“So, that guy—” he begins but you’re way too focused on how close he leaned into you this time, how low the timbre of his voice goes to keep from disturbing those around you. It makes your feet curl in your shoes and your breath catch in your chest when his shoulder connects with your arm.

You feel heightened to his presence and the heat of him so close. It wasn’t like this earlier, but your heart is racing and your skin tickles the more he whispers. You think he’s so close that he could almost kiss your earlobe.

It’s a path that you didn’t know you had in your mind, and it leaves you rattled as the smallest brush of pink hair hits your skin as he straightens back up and reaches for another handful of popcorn.

Every time he touches your arm after to get your attention or your hand scoops by his in the popcorn bucket, you start to become flustered and jittery like a child after too much sugar.

It lasts until the movie reaches its apex.

There’s a combined scream that fills the theatre, and you tense at the splatter of blood hitting the camera, leaving the few remains of your popcorn scattered across the floor as you unwittingly knock it over and squeeze Itadori’s hand tight.

Your fingers slot with his and your fingertips bury against his palm, and it’s the only thing keeping you from bursting into a scream.

When the lights flash back on, you notice how pink his hand looks under your tense hold and mumble out an apology.

“Oh, that?” he asks followed by the same charming laugh as always. “It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen your face, like a blowfish,” he comments, teasingly mocking your blow-eyed expression as everyone around you begins to exit. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat.”

“You’re one to talk. You screamed in my ear at least a dozen times,” you remind him as the two of you also make your way towards the exit doors. “Sounded like you were on fire.”

“Don’t say fire in a theatre!” he scolds with a hiss.

“You said it louder.”

“To remind you not to say it!”

You giggle at how offended he sounds as you break out into the light of the late afternoon. You walk with Itadori back to your pickup spot on the edge of the shopping district. It’s surprisingly quiet especially considering who you’re with, and it makes you worry a bit.

You thought Itadori would be more excited after watching the film and practically forcing you to run 500m dash to get there, but he’s barely said two words about it since leaving the theatre, briefly mentioning how he’s still glad they used a real costume for the main earthworm instead of CGI.

But since leaving, his mood seems to have dampened. You thought about bringing something up from the movie, but you couldn’t really catch more than a few bloody scenes and a little evil monologuing from Dr. Richter outside the moments when Itadori would have your attention, with his voice in your ear or his hand excitedly clasping around your wrist each time he enthusiastically info-dumped a scene to you.

“Hey, um,” he begins piquing your interest. He seems to lose his nerve when you catch his eye; his gaze flutters to his feet before nervously picking back up to glimpse at your face but only for a few seconds. “Thanks for coming with me.”

You smile. “Don’t mention it. It was…different.”

“Yeah,” he agrees but he still seems down.

“Itadori-kun? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…It’s just…I could tell you didn’t really like the movie. I mean I knew from the start it wasn’t really your thing. You and Nobara usually like to shop together more than watch horror movies. But still—” he breathes in deep, a shy color blossoming across his face. “It’s been a while since it felt like I did something normal, so it was really nice having someone to come with me. I appreciate it.”

There's something about his explanation that makes your heart hurt. He hasn’t been a sorcerer that long yet; and coming from being a normal kid to the world you were born into was probably scarier than you all could understand.

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it! I just couldn’t really follow the story between that annoying couple smacking the whole time, and I felt like I barely follow anything at all!” you reason with him, but he still has that kicked puppy look on his face.

You sigh with soft empathy before offering him a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Itadori-kun, you know I think I’d like to come back and see it again with you. After we watch the first three movies of course."

He gives you a curious look, his eyebrows raised with disbelief.

“Really?”

You give a cute and short nod. “Mhm! I can’t really give it a fair chance if I haven’t seen the ones leading up to it. Besides, I want to know why Dr. Richter was trying to kidnap the baby H.E.s in the first place? Couldn’t he make more Enhanced H.E.s from the DNA left from the original experiment victim like he did at the beginning of the movie?”

It’s like you open the skies back over him when your words sink in, and he moves so happily, speaks so fully, and it makes you happy to see him simply be happy.

“They explain it so good in the third movie,” he says, unable to hold in his excitement. “I know a great site, it has subtitles and everything, and a special director’s cut at the end of the second movie.”

You laugh. “Sounds good!”

“We should pick up some more snacks; the original is actually pretty long,” he warns and starts to lead you towards the convenience store. Your smile only breaks when you feel the tug on your arm and look down to notice his hand still fastened around yours.

You freeze, feeling your face warm a bit when you realize he’s probably been holding it since before you left the theater. This makes him pause and turn towards you.

Softly, he calls your name and asks if you’re okay, making you drop your head bashfully.

“Oh, it’s nothing really but you’re still holding my hand,” you point out.

Itadori looks down between the two of you and confirms that his fingers are still locked with yours, a comfortable fit.

“Huh, oh, I guess I am,” he states matter-of-factly before he blushes. “Oh, it’s probably all gross and oily right? Yuck.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not actually,” you correct, making no move to force him to let go because you honestly don’t want him to stop this good feeling pouring from him into you through the simple act.

Your soft expression makes his cheeks warm for a different reason this time.

“Oh, well, w-we should probably hurry,” he stammers out, and your hand tightens around his hand just a little bit more as you agree and find the closest convenience store to prepare for your first movie night.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Nobara stops outside the convenience store, hand to the glass as she stalks back and forth, trying to catch glimpses down the aisle.

She could have sworn she just saw the two of you walk in from the other side of the street, and she was going to come to say hi – partially to ask how the movie went and partially to make Itadori carry her shopping bags if the two of you were done – that was before she noticed how close the two of you looked.

Weirdly close.

When she finally catches you in the foggy glass, hand in hand, looking at the mini gacha inside the store, she gasps and quickly shuffles her bags around in search of her phone.

Kugisaki quickly scrolls through her contacts, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the line to pick up.

“Fushiguro get here quick,” she harshly whispers into the device.

There’s a lazy voice on the other end asking what she wants, and she vaguely explains the situation to be met with resistance.

“Well then have Ijichi drop you off again! What do you mean ‘No’?" she growls. "Shut up and listen to me. They just went into 7/11. Ugh. Fine, fine, I’m sending you some pictures,” she argues.

Kugisaki quickly starts to snap some pictures through the glass and frantically sends them off before bringing the phone back to her ear.

“That’s what I’m saying so hurry up and get here! Yes, it’s like that!”

#itadori x reader #yuji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji fluff #itadori fluff #gender neutral reader #tbh i love horror movies and wouldve honestly went with him #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji

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inkskinned · 7 months

Text

it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

#spilled ink #writeblr #warm up

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dakotalun · 9 months

Text

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

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luveline · 6 months

Note

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated.

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong.

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks.

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach.

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong."

"I'm just trying to figure something out."

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance.

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein.

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?"

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop.

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something.

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention."

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights.

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done?

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time.

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again.

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears.

This is all so messy, and it's your fault.

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me.

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid.

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help.

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go."

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention.

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up.

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell.

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you.

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it."

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry."

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel.

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug.

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon.

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two.

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset "

"I'm an idiot–"

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–"

"I shouldn't have–"

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away.

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up."

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into?

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me."

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile.

"It's not okay."

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even."

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked."

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?"

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back."

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better."

"I know, angel." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you."

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful.

"Does it look really bad?"

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says.

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already."

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to."

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid."

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask.

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not."

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure."

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want."

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks.

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it.

"That feels nice," you mumble.

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?"

"Don't," you warn.

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?"

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it.

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry, angel."

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 12 days

Text

executive orders

words: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ only, ceo!rafe, assistant!reader, mean!rafe but equally mean!reader lol, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pretend marriage (like fake dating but fake marriage hehe)

“so…” the woman says, heels clicking down the pristine hallway as you quickly follow. “as you were told in the interview process, mr. cameron is a very particular man. as his personal assistant, your focus is more on his well-being than the business.”

“okay, i understand.” you nod. you find the whole thing odd. the interview process where you didn't actually meet the man you'd be the personal assistant to. his semi nondescript job. ceo. of some company named after him, but you don't know the specifics on what his role actually includes.

“just know…” she pauses outside of the large door leading into the room. “this isn't going to be an easy job. it's why you're making a lot of money.”

“okay.” you say again. the more you learn, the more concerned you are, but you're willing to try, even if just for one day.

“and you're paid for through the cfo. mr. cameron does not have firing rights no matter what he says.”

you're not sure what she means, but it becomes very apparent when the moment you step through the door, the man you presume to be mr. cameron let's out a growl.

“serena, i told you i don't need a fucking babysitter!” you turn around, but the door has already been shut behind you. you can hear serenas heels clicking quickly down the hallway. you had completely forgotten her name in the stress of your first day, but you commit it to memory before turning to the ceo.

“hello, sir.” you say quietly. “im y/n.”

“i don't need you.” he grunts out before focusing on his computer, typing rather angry and aggressively. you stand frozen, waiting.

“i said i don't need you. leave. you're fired.” mr. cameron says.

“i um… i don't think you can fire me. sorry, sir.”

his fingers pause as he looks up at you, seeming to finally really see you as his eyes move down then back up your body. you weren't sure what to wear so you're dressed in a black work dress with long sleeves and a pair of flats. under his watchful eye, you wish you would have worn something less form fitting.

“i hate being called sir.” he says.

“okay, mr. cameron then.” you take a few shuffling steps forward.

“rafe.” he shakes his head. “just rafe. mr. cameron is my fucking dad and he's dead.”

your instinct is to say sorry for his loss, but you can't find the words, which ultimately seems to be the right thing as rafe hums then turns back to his computer screen.

you watch him work for a few minutes, occasionally looking around the sparsely decorated office. you swear every time you look away, rafes eyes move up to look at you, but by the time your gaze travels back to him, he's back typing on his computer.

“goddamn it.” he groans out. “don't just stand there all day. if you're gonna be here and i can't fire you, you might as well sit down.”

“oh!” it takes you a minute to realize he's talking to you as his eyes don't stray away from the screen, but then you're quickly moving to sit on the chair positioned on the other side of his desk.

you sit again, watching rafe, watching the clock, watching the view out the window. “what would you like for lunch, si-rafe?”

“whatever.” he waves his hand. “it's not your job to get it. someone will bring lunch to us.”

“oh.” you nod, becoming increasingly more aware that you're not really sure what your job is.

just like rafe said, someone brings in lunch at exactly 12:30, one tray for you and one for rafe.

when he closes his computer, you think that now will finally be the time to talk, but he eats in silence. “so-”

“no small talk.” rafe says. “i hate that shit.”

“well, what is it you'd like me to do then? just sit here? at least give me a task.”

“fine.” rafe grunts out. “when you're finished eating you can read through this report.” he tosses a thick three ringed binder onto the desk in front of you.

“fine.” you argue back, quickly scarfing down your food before grabbing the binder.

you read through the report. you have no clue what the numbers mean, but you do find a couple punctuation mistakes and highlight them. rafe seems surprised you have any notes at all, his eyebrows raising when you grab the marker from his desk.

“there.” you place the binder down once you reach the last page. its tedious work, but at least it's something other than utter silence.

“great.” rafe takes the binder and tosses it into the trash can.

“hey!”

“those were numbers from four years ago.” you can see the smirk on rafes features, his amusement at getting you to do something completely pointless.

“you're a real dick, you know?” you say, blurting the words out before you can think of the consequences, it's not like you want to keep the job anyways.

rafe sits silently, but his eyes are on you, hands frozen as you continue on.

“you should hear the way people talk about you. everyone is afraid of you, which you may think makes you a macho boss, but it just makes you a shitty guy to work for. no wonder you have to pay everyone two times more than any other company around here, they need that for putting up with your rudeness.” you rant, suddenly sucking in air as your words come to an end.

“it's 5pm. done for the day. ill walk you out.” rafe stands, but you move quicker, pushing the doors open and leaving him to walk behind.

you stop when you see serena and the cfo quietly chatting. you open your mouth to say you quit when rafe speaks from behind you.

“i like this one. make sure she's here tomorrow by 9am.”

you turn and look to him, but he's already walking away.

you weren't planning on showing back up, but serena is a convincing woman.

“good morning, rafe.” you place a drink carrier down onto the corner of his desk, plucking out your mocha before schooching the rest towards him. “i didn't know what you like. i got a hot black coffee, a caramel frappe and the a cappuccino.”

rafe stares at the drinks before picking up the frappe. you smile, you should have predicted that despite his hard exterior, rafe liked a sweet drink.

serena gave you the company card, saying to use it for any and all expenses, even grocery's or home decor, she didn't care, as long as you entered the building by 9 am tomorrow.

“i know you hate small talk, but you'll have to get over it. what does this company even do?” you take a sip of your mocha, the taste chocolatey on your tongue.

“we are a development company. real estate all across the world. we also manage construction.”

“oh.” you frown. “that's more boring than i thought.”

rafe let's out a soft chuckle, pleasant sounding to your ears.

“everything just seems so secretive.” you shrug.

“i think they didn't want you to know a lot in case you turned down the job. you're the longest an assistant has lasted.”

“and what…” you lean in, ignoring that it's only your second day. “exactly am i supposed to do?”

“just… keep me in check.” rafe shrugs. “i have a tendency to get angry. bad news will get passed through you. you're here to be a sounding board, where i can vent and bounce ideas off of.”

“i make 100k a year for that?” you scoff.

“i think 50 of that is just for dealing with me.”

you laugh along with rafe. maybe you'll end up lasting an entire week.

-- two months later --

“are you free this weekend?” rafe asks.

“uh, yeah, why?” you question. you've learned rafe likes when you stand up to him, speak your mind and not let him push you around like he does everyone else. he's come to respect you for it, and it's made work much easier.

“im needed in new york city. id like for you to come with me. as my assistant.”

“sure, ill start looking for hotels.” you open up your laptop.

“spare no cost. i want somewhere nice.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. “of course you do.”

you already knew to look only at 5 star hotels, the most expensive of the lot. despite the short notice, you find two connecting suites that will work for you and rafe.

“and how are we getting there?” you ask. “want me to talk to jeffery about taking the private jet?”

“yup, i want to fly into laguardia, not jfk.”

“got it.” you nod, finding the correct number in your phone before stepping out to talk. you confirm all the details, jotting down times in the notes app on your phone.

you stop by after the phone call to update serena of your plans, learning she's a secretary of sort for the whole company, really the number two right behind rafe.

“hey girl.” you smile. “heading to nyc with mr. cameron for the weekend.”

“oh, good.” she sighs happily. “he's been needing to go out there.”

“yeah.” you shrug. “if you say so!” you keep yourself firmly out of the business side, just like she told you your first day here.

“make sure you do something fun while you're there too. while he's in meetings you could see times square, or check out central park.”

“i definitely will! i want to see the cherry blossoms if they're still in bloom.”

“sounds fun.” serena nods before her desk phone begins to read. “sorry, gotta get this.”

“see ya.” you wave as you walk back to rafes office.

“all good?” he questions.

“laguardia, just as you want.” you smile, sitting back at your upgraded chair.

“don't know what id do without ya.” rafe says.

“don't be nice to me.” you scrunch your name up. “it's weird.”

“how were the cherry blossoms?” rafe asks.

“most of them still in bloom, actually.” you say with a soft smile. you ended up taking a lot of pictures along with exploring the rest of the park.

“nice.” he hums. “did you bring an evening dress?”

“no. and you didn't tell me i was supposed to.” you say.

“well… i would appreciate it if you joined me at dinner tonight. it's with a very important client who um… may be under the impression that im traveling with my wife.”

“your- your wife?” your eyes widen. “you want me to lie about being your wife?”

“just for tonight. id really appreciate it.” rafe looks at you with a softness in his eyes. “please.”

“okay… but i don't have an evening gown… or anything fancy.”

“let me take you shopping then.” rafe pulls out his phone. “there's got to be a nice store near us.”

you place your hand on top of rafes phone. “ill find a place.”

you end up finding a formal store only a couple blocks away. you decide to walk, rafe keeping close to you, glaring at anyone who even glances at you for too long.

you make it to the store without any interruptions, and rafe quickly points out the kinds of dresses that will fit the restaurant before standing back to let you choose.

“you wanna watch me try them on, husband?” you ask rafe, following the associate with an armful of dresses back towards the private changing rooms.

“of course.” rafe follows behind you, eyes glancing down your figure. he can't wait to see you in a gorgeous fitted dress.

when you step out in the first dress, rafe swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “you're getting that one.”

“you sure?” you look in the mirror, twirling around to look at the dropped back. “i don't know if this color looks good on me.”

“it looks good on you.” rafe says. “but by all means, try on more. ill buy you multiple.”

rafe ends up buying you every single dress you try on except for one that's too loose and doesn't fit well. you insist you only need one, but you're not going to argue with your boss wanting to spend money on you.

you end up choosing the first one you tried on to go to the dinner with rafe. your hands shake slightly, not sure what to expect. rafe sees it, hesitating before wrapping your hand in his.

“it'll be fine. you can just… just be quiet for the most part. ill do all the talking.”

“okay.” you squeeze his hand back, not used to the physical contact with rafe, but finding it surprisingly comfortable.

you follow him into the restaurant, everyone else dressed to the nines, perfect hair and makeup on the women, the men with the shiniest shoes. “it's really beautiful in here.” you whisper.

“wait till you taste the food… wifey.” rafe says, making you both laugh.

“ah, mr. and mrs. cameron.” the man says in a slightly accented voice as you both shake his hand, as well as the associate next to him. “so glad to meet the both of you. we appreciate getting into business with a true family man.”

“of course.” you smile, putting on your best acting performance. “we are so excited to start our family soon.”

“we must see the wedding photos. my wife-” the man puts a proud hand on his chest. “is a wedding dress designer.”

“oh.” you frown. “i would love to show you, but we haven't gotten them back yet.” you smile at rafe. “we’re newlyweds.”

“ah, cheers to the beginning of a lovely marriage then.” he raises his glass to clink with the others at the table.

“please, kiss! you must after a toast.” the associate says.

you turn to rafe, glancing down to look at his lips. it would totally give you away to refuse, so you take a deep breath and lean into in, pressing your lips together in a quick kiss. it lasts only a moment, but you swear you feel a spark, a tug to continue kissing him.

rafe doesn't bring it up until later, as your riding the elevator back up to your hotel room. “you did great. im sorry about the kiss.”

“it wasn't bad.” you giggle softly, slightly drunk on the wine that was served.

“im glad you think that.” rafe smiles softly. “you'll make a wonderful wife to a very lucky man someday.”

“maybe we could…” you swallow harshly, the alcohol encouraging your words you know you shouldn't say. “maybe we could keep pretending. just for tonight. and then when we get back to the office things can be back to normal.”

“and what does continuing to pretend to be husband and wife entail?” rafe questions, taking a step closer to you.

“more kissing. more… more.”

rafes lips are against yours suddenly, ignoring the elevator doors sliding open in favor of his mouth pushing against yours, lips gliding harshly over each others. the kiss is the exact opposite of the restaurant, whereas it was quick and innocent, this kiss is full of fire and passion.

the elevators slide shut and begin to head back down to the lobby. “shit.” rafe groans against your lips, jamming the button towards your floor. “sorry baby.”

“just… keep kissing me until someone gets in.” rafe listens to your pleas, kissing you until the elevator comes to a halt. even then, he doesn't move far away, keeping himself stood possessively over you, your back against the elevator wall.

you smile awkwardly at the three men who enter before turning your face into rafes chest, focused on the hand that has slipped around your waist.

the elevator stops and the three men get off. the second it's moving again, rafe is back kissing you, stumbling out when your doors open as to not make the same mistake as last time.

“shit.” rafe groans, having to fumble in his pocket to get the key card for the door.

you let out a soft giggle, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw until the door swings open and you're able to step in the room.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, closing and locking the door behind you.

“im sure.” you nod. “this is just… pretend. let's do what husbands and wives do.”

rafe moves you towards the bed, backing you up until you sit down on the plush spread, decorated exactly like yours in the connecting room, but this bedding still smells like rafe from the night before.

he sinks to his knees, such a strong, dominant man on the floor for you as he takes off your heels, carefully slipping them off your soles before setting them to the side.

“thank you.” you say softly. rafe looks up at you before leaning forward, pushing the slit of your dress open to press kisses to your knees, and then thighs, moving up until the dress no longer allows him to.

“i need you to take this off.” he says roughly.

you nod, shifting yourself to stand as rafe also rises. you turn your back to him, his hands moving to your waist before moving up until he's cupping your chest over the shiny material.

“rafe-” you gasp out as he squeezes, his large palms enveloping your entire breast.

rafe holds his hands there for a moment longer before moving them to your back, unzipping your dress and watching it fall to the floor. you're in just a small pair of lingerie, having bought it for yourself yesterday in a boutique.

“shit.” rafe curses again. “you're… you're so beautiful.”

you turn around to kiss him again, his hands now against your bare skin as he explores, moving all along your sides and back.

your own hands get busy as well, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. you pull away to see his muscles, hints of which you've seen when he's rolled up his sleeves or wore a tighter than normal shirt, but now you can finally really see and appreciate them.

“lay down, please.” rafe says.

you move to lay on his bed, head resting against the pillows as rafe crawls over your body. his mouth finds yours again as his hand delves under your back to unhook your bra. he pulls it away from your body as his lips leave yours.

he's only off your skin for a moment before his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling around in circles as his hand holds your other breast.

“oh, shit.” it's your turn to curse as your eyes squeeze closed, hand coming to the back of rafes head, feeling his short hair as he sucks on your nipple before kissing all over the swell of your breast. he switches sides, wanting to taste all of you.

you lift your hips when his hand grabs onto your underwear, allowing him to pull it all the way down until you kick it off the bed. rafe pulls away to look between your legs, letting out a soft moan when you part your thighs and he can see how wet you already are.

“beautiful.” he says, eyes closing like it's too much to look at you as his hand skirts down your stomach before finding your wetness, finger circling around your entrance before gently pushing in.

“kiss me, please.” you take rafes face in your hands, guiding your mouths back together as his finger carefully thrusts in and out. he slowly increases the speed until you're whining against his lips for more.

rafe twists his hand so his thumb can rub over your clit as you let out a moan, hips pressing up, seeking more.

“i need you.” rafe pulls his hand away. “i need you so bad.”

you nod quickly, giving him one more quick kiss before he pulls away to take off his pants and underwear. you bite your lip once hes completely nude, his cock standing tall and hard away from his body. you want to taste him, want to see what it feels like to have his cock sit heavy on your tongue, but you need him inside of you more.

“i have a condom somewhere…” he looks around.

“you don't need to wear one. I'm on birth control.” you can feel your cheeks blush just at the suggestion. “it's… it's not what a husband and wife would do.”

“okay.” rafe doesn't need any more convincing, crawling back over your body. “do you want me like this?”

you flip over quickly so you're on top, rafes back now pressed into the mattress. you grab onto his cock, giving him a few quick strokes before you line him up with your cunt, sinking down with a synchronous moan.

you keep your eyes on rafes face as you begin to move, hips grinding up and then back, your hands sat firmly on his chest to help you move.

you're able to grind your clit down against his skin every time you sink fully down, just adding to the pleasure. he's stretching you out in the most pleasurable way, just enough to feel it without being painful.

“so fucking beautiful.” rafe says, reaching up to hold onto your tits as they bounce with your body.

you put all your energy into riding him, knowing this might be your only chance to, but hoping it's not, hoping you can feel him inside of you again.

“i- baby.” rafe grunts out, hands moving down to your hips. he helps you move as your legs quickly tire, not used to this position.

“you feel so good.” you whine out eyes sliding shut as rafes hips begin to push up, lifting you with every thrust, spearing his cock even further into you.

“im-im close.” you admit with a gasp, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time.

“cum for me baby, please.” rafe moves one of his hands to your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to rub over your clit.

you cry out, back arching as you instantly cum, not needing any more stimulation as your body shakes before flopping forward, falling against rafes chest.

he gives you a minute, as long as he can hold back before flipping you onto your back. it takes him only a few thrusts to cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

rafe flops down next to you, both breathing heavily, skin sheened in sweat.

you wait for a moment. to see if he's going to say anything. when he doesn't, you scooch closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek and bringing him in for a kiss, not yet done pretending.

-- four years later --

“you remember the first time we came here?” rafe asks, stepping into the restaurant with his hand wrapped around yours. it's redecorated some, but is still familiar.

“how could i forget.” you smile at him. “where i first pretended to be your wife.”

“well, at least you don't have to pretend anymore,” rafe says, swiping his thumb over the diamond ring on your finger “mrs. cameron.”

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