#loading screen collab | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heeluvv · 12 days ago

Text

˗ˏˋ05. MY EYES ONLY

pairingᝰ.ᐟ park sunghoon x reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted. (not proofread)

statusᝰ.ᐟ 5/9 completed!

the room was dim, swallowed in the soft hum of electronics and the faint ticking of the wall clock, the only source of light spilling from sunghoon’s laptop screen. the blue glow stretched across his face, casting sharp shadows beneath his cheekbones and deepening the tired circles under his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. his back was hunched slightly, elbows braced on his knees, jaw clenched as his eyes tracked every detail on the screen like he was hunting something. across from him, sunoo sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-finished drink sweating beside him, his phone forgotten in his lap as he stared curiously at the concentrated look on sunghoon’s face. the way he scrolled—slow, deliberate, almost too precise—sent a quiet tension crawling across the room, unspoken but growing heavier by the second. “what’s up with you?” sunoo asked finally, brow lifting as he tried to break whatever trance had settled over him. but sunghoon didn’t blink, didn’t glance up, didn’t even shift. “i have to find who the fuck these idiots are fighting about,” he muttered, voice flat and clipped like he was reciting something he'd already said in his head a hundred times.

sunoo blinked, thrown off by the answer. “who?” he asked, the single word dragging out slightly in confusion as he leaned forward a little. sunghoon inhaled through his nose but never took his eyes off the screen, his fingers clicking and scrolling with rhythmic precision. “jay and heeseung,” he said, quieter this time, like it was a secret he shouldn’t be repeating. “i stopped by a few nights ago… and they dropped the biggest shit ever.” he paused, jaw flexing again. “they’ve both worked with the same girl. collabed with her. and now they’re catching feelings—acting like they’re not, but they are.” the words came out heavier now, more bitter, more laced with something he hadn’t processed yet. “when i asked who it was, they shut down. wouldn’t even give me her username. like they didn’t want anyone else finding her.” he finally leaned back a little, eyes narrowed at the faint trail of usernames and blurred thumbnails in front of him. “so now i’m finding her myself.”

sunoo sat up straighter, his interest finally piqued, a quiet hum leaving his lips as he leaned over to peek at the screen. “you think they’re in love or something?” he asked, half-joking, trying to cut the tension—but sunghoon didn’t laugh. he didn’t even smile. “i think they’re obsessed,” he said instead, cold and steady, his thumb tapping at the trackpad with slow pressure. another scroll. another refresh. then suddenly, the screen shifted, and a thumbnail caught his eye. a soft frame. blurred background. skin in low light.

@babydollxo.

he clicked it before sunoo could even process what he was doing, and the profile loaded with a stuttering hum. there wasn’t much to it—no profile picture, no bio, just two videos stacked neatly under the username. the first one had thousands of views. the second had just been posted within the last hour. “that’s her,” sunghoon said, almost to himself, almost reverent, his voice lowering like he was speaking in church. sunoo tilted his head, brow furrowing as he studied the screen. “how do you know?” he asked—but he didn’t need an answer. because just then, a soft pink glow rippled across the edge of the screen. a gift notification. and another. and another. they rolled in silently, one after the next, usernames sunghoon knew by heart: @heefreakshow. @jayafterhours. and then—surprisingly—@jakeoncam.

sunghoon stared, unmoving, unreadable. not surprised, not shocked, not even angry—just silent. like something deep inside him had clicked into place. like something that had been itching under his skin had finally found a name. sunoo shifted again, lips parting, but the tension was too thick now. it sat heavy in the middle of the room, settling in the hollow between their breaths. “damn…” sunoo whispered, almost out of awe. “she must be something else.” and still, sunghoon said nothing.

and then the page refreshed.

you’d posted another one.

the refresh hit soft—just a faint shift in the page’s layout, the timestamp on your profile jumping forward by a single digit. sunoo blinked first, sitting up straighter as the new thumbnail loaded slowly, a hazy image pulled from a dim-lit angle that showed more of your legs this time. the camera was closer now. more intentional. angled from the foot of the bed, a little lower, aimed just high enough to catch the way your thighs spread, the edge of your fingers pressing into your waistband. sunghoon didn’t speak. didn’t ask if they should watch. he just clicked. the screen flickered once, then dipped into darkness, and your voice bled through the speakers again—quieter than before, softer, more intimate, like you were whispering to someone just out of frame. “missed you,” you said, breathy and wrecked. “wanted to be good tonight.”

sunoo exhaled sharply, but didn’t say anything, and sunghoon’s jaw flexed as he leaned in even closer, pupils blown wide and locked on the way you tugged your panties down your thighs with slow, teasing fingers. the fabric slipped inch by inch, delicate and soft, pooling at your knees as your bare heat pressed to the sheets beneath you, your hips rolling faintly like you couldn’t help it. you were on your back now, the curve of your stomach rising and falling with each breath, your fingers drifting up between your thighs with a kind of practiced slowness that didn’t feel fake—it felt familiar. like someone had already told you how they liked it. like this wasn’t for everyone. the way you moved was purposeful. trained. like you were doing it for someone specific. and that’s when sunghoon’s throat went tight. because he knew it—he fucking knew it. this video wasn’t meant for just them this time.

it was meant for someone new.

your fingers moved slow at first, two of them dragging up through your folds before circling your clit in soft, measured patterns, hips twitching like you were already close. the lighting cast shadows across your skin in gold and pink, and even though your face still wasn’t in the shot, your mouth was—barely in frame, parted with every breath, lips glossy and full as you whimpered something too soft to catch. “do you think about me?” you asked the dark, and sunghoon swallowed hard, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth. “i think about you… all the time.” sunoo didn’t even move now—frozen beside him, mouth slightly open, locked in the same quiet daze. sunghoon was burning. his chest was tight, his hands tense in his lap, his legs spread wide for balance like he was trying not to fall forward and crawl into the screen. he wanted to know—wanted to know who the fuck you were talking to. wanted to know if it was them.

your moans got higher, shorter, your hand working faster now, legs flexing as your hips rolled against your palm. the camera didn’t shake. the audio didn’t glitch. it was clean, steady, deliberate—every second meant to be watched, replayed, consumed. sunghoon didn’t blink. not once. the jealousy that sat low in his stomach during the first video had cracked wide open now, bleeding into something hotter, meaner, more possessive. they’d seen this before. maybe not this exact video, but they’d seen you like this. they’d had this. heeseung. jay. jake. he thought about their usernames flashing across your gift notifications, about their silence when he asked who you were, about the way they kept your name like a fucking secret.

but now he had you in his hands.

and he wasn’t giving it back.

the video ended in silence, the last frame freezing on the slow rise of your stomach and the soft part of your lips, skin glowing in that muted, bedroom gold. the room felt smaller now, darker, as if the air had thickened with the weight of what they’d just seen. sunoo leaned back slowly, blinking like he’d come out of something heavier than he expected, shoulders sagging with a deep exhale. “well… shit,” he muttered, voice light, but not casual. “i get it now. i mean—i really get it.” his head tilted toward sunghoon, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. “not surprised they’re obsessed. honestly, i’d want more too.” sunghoon didn’t respond—not right away. he just sat there, still leaned forward, watching the blank video like it might start on its own again, like it might show him something he missed the first time.

then, after a few long seconds, he finally leaned back, lips curling into a quiet, unreadable smirk as he shut the laptop screen with a soft click. “lock the door when you leave,” he said, voice low and even, already rising to his feet with the laptop tucked under one arm. sunoo raised his brows slightly, caught somewhere between amused and curious, but didn’t argue. sunghoon didn’t wait for a response—he was already halfway down the hall, the soft pad of his footsteps disappearing into the darker part of the apartment. when he reached his room, he closed the door behind him, not slamming it, but with enough finality to feel like a barrier being drawn. and then, slowly, he sat down again. opened the laptop. let the glow wash over his face all over again. your profile filled the screen—only two videos, no bio, no face—and still, it was more than enough. he clicked play.

and this time, he didn’t have to share you with anyone.

sunghoon sat in the center of his bed, back resting against the headboard, legs parted loosely as the soft click of the laptop echoed once in the stillness of his room. the screen flickered back to life, and there you were again—frame perfectly centered, thighs spread, voice barely above a whisper as you circled your fingers against your clit like you were inviting someone to watch you fall apart. he just watched, slowly sinking into the pull of it, his breath growing heavier with every second that passed. his hand slid down to his waistband, not frantic, not greedy—just needing to match the pace of what you were giving him. he palmed himself through the fabric, eyes trained on your trembling legs and the way your back arched with every soft moan you let out. his thumb dragged over the head of his cock, slow, steady, the friction just enough to make him twitch.

his jaw tightened as the video went on, your pace quickening, your free hand gripping the sheets beside you as your breath hitched and your thighs began to shake. you were close—he could see it in the way your hips rolled deeper into your palm and your chest lifted with each ragged gasp. sunghoon stroked himself now, slow and firm, matching your rhythm like it was instinct, his hand slick with precum as he let out a soft curse under his breath. “fuck…” he muttered, eyes never leaving the screen, body tensing as he imagined your mouth wrapped around his name instead. it twisted something low in him—the thought that you had done this before for them, that you had said their names when you came, moaned for them while they watched like kings behind their screens. heeseung. jay. jake. they’d already touched this—already had the pieces of you he was only now learning how to crave. and still… he couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. not until he made sure you belonged to him too.

his strokes grew faster as you cried out softly, fingers fluttering over your clit in the way he knew you had done a hundred times before when no one else was watching. but now he was. and he swore he could feel the tension in your voice when you moaned—like you needed someone to answer it, to fill it. sunghoon’s lips parted, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as he imagined his hands replacing yours, imagined pinning your wrists down while your hips bucked against his, slick and needy and desperate to be claimed. his hips jerked forward into his own fist as you whimpered again, this time louder, and he felt the heat building in his core like a fuse burning down, slow but inevitable. his free hand gripped the bedsheet tight as his back arched slightly, tension coiling through his spine. white streaks painted across his stomach, his hand slowing as he rode it out, and the video ended just as he collapsed back into the pillows.

but he didn’t close the tab.

he just let it replay again.

―

you wake up with the kind of silence that feels still and heavy, like the morning hasn’t quite begun yet—soft light pressing at the edges of your curtains, your blanket twisted loosely around your legs, your throat dry and warm. your phone buzzes once on your nightstand, but you don’t reach for it yet. your limbs are still too heavy with sleep, your body sinking deeper into the mattress as your mind starts to catch up with where you left off. the video. the upload. the way your hands moved over your skin under low light, the camera angle just right, just personal enough to feel like you were whispering into someone’s ear. you didn’t name anyone. you never do. but you knew what you wanted it to feel like—close, unfiltered, like whoever was watching had slipped into your room and caught you in the act of missing them. eventually, you roll onto your side, blanket slipping down your bare hip as you reach for your phone and blink the brightness away. your lock screen is full—messages, follows, gifts—but you ignore most of it. just scroll.

until one username catches your eye.

@hoononrepeat

you hesitate before tapping it, your thumb hovering over the alert, not because you recognize it—but because it’s clean. plain. no emojis, no flirty tag, just a smooth, simple handle and a single notification waiting for you. it’s not a tip. not a comment. it’s a private message. and for some reason, your chest tightens just slightly when you open it. the text is short—two lines, spaced perfectly, no punctuation.

hoononrepeat: you looked so soft like that. i can’t stop watching.

that’s it. no hello, and somehow, it lingers longer than any paragraph you’ve ever been sent. you read it again. and again. and your hand goes still against your chest as you stare at the screen, wondering why this one feels like it was meant for you—not just for your content.

is that all you wanted to say?

his reply comes immediately.

hoononrepaet: nohoononrepeat: i want to see you, want to see what more you've got to show.

―

you don’t even bother with a jacket. the air’s still warm and your heart’s already racing, too hot in your chest as you lock your door behind you and start toward the street. you spot him immediately, leaning against the driver’s side door, one foot braced against the pavement like he’s been there for a while, arms folded across his chest as his gaze lifts to meet yours. the moment your eyes connect, his posture shifts—subtle, but there’s something unmistakable in it, like he hadn’t fully believed you’d come out until now. his stare doesn’t drop, doesn’t flicker, doesn’t do any of the things guys usually do when you walk up in person—and it makes the air around you thicken, your nerves prickle with something a little too heavy to be just shyness. “hi,” you say, a little breathless, and it feels stupid immediately because why are you nervous? but he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile big—he just opens the passenger door for you, eyes still locked on your face like he’s memorizing it one blink at a time. “you’re even prettier in person,” he says under his breath, quiet enough that it feels meant for no one but you. you duck your head slightly as you slide into the passenger seat, the scent of leather and something faintly woodsy wrapping around you while he walks around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat like he didn’t just drop a confession between your feet.

he doesn’t start the car right away. for a moment, he just sits there, his hand resting on the gearshift and his eyes roaming your features like they’re trying to trace every shadow and light across your skin. you shift a little in your seat, suddenly hyperaware of how dressed down you are—just jeans, a hoodie, your hair barely styled, and no camera between the two of you this time to hide behind. “i brought stuff,” you say, voice quieter, fingers fidgeting slightly with the zipper of your hoodie. “for the shoot, like outfits and stuff… if you wanted me to change.” but he shakes his head slowly, gaze heavy and unmoving. “no,” he says, lips tilting just barely. “you look perfect like this. soft. real.” the words hit different—warm and strange and intimate in a way you hadn’t expected—and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re here for a video anymore, or something else entirely.

he finally turns the key, the engine humming to life beneath you, low and smooth like everything about him so far. the lights from the dash flicker against his skin, catching the shape of his jaw, the cut of his cheekbone, and you realize he hasn’t looked away once. he pulls off from the curb with a practiced ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting between the console, fingers tapping out some rhythm only he seems to know. “i know where we should go,” he says after a few moments, his voice low and calm, like you’ve done this before. “somewhere quiet. somewhere just for us.” you nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat, and your eyes stay on the road ahead as he drives you deeper into the kind of night you don’t come back from untouched.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the sound of the city fades behind you, traded for the quiet hum of the tires against worn pavement and the rhythmic crash of distant waves. the roads grow darker the closer you get to the water, the tall brush lining the narrow path catching the headlights and glowing gold for a second before disappearing behind you. neither of you speak much. not because there’s nothing to say, but because everything already feels thick with meaning—like if you speak now, it’ll all spill out too soon. he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, fingers drumming against the fabric in a slow, measured beat that somehow keeps time with your heartbeat. occasionally, he glances over at you—quietly, not intrusively, but like he can’t help it—and every time, he looks away with that same small smile that never quite reaches his eyes. you sit curled in the passenger seat, your fingers tracing the hem of your jacket as your eyes dart to the faint outline of the ocean just past the treeline, the sound of it getting louder now. finally, he slows the car, turning down a dirt path, and you realize where you are.

“we’re here,” he says softly, and you nod like you’ve just woken from a trance.

the car rolls to a stop, the tires crunching against gravel, and for a moment, neither of you move. the engine shuts off, leaving only the steady pulse of the ocean and the soft creak of your seatbelt as you unbuckle it. he reaches behind the seat first, pulling out a small tripod and a bag you hadn’t noticed before, slinging it over his shoulder as he steps out of the car. the air hits you first—cool, sharp, salt-soaked—and you wrap your jacket tighter around your frame as you follow him down the barely lit path, the sound of waves pulling louder and louder with each step. the moonlight spills silver across the sand once the trail clears, the entire stretch of beach empty, undisturbed except for the tide. he walks slowly, not too far ahead of you, occasionally looking back to make sure you’re still behind him, and something about the way he waits for you, quietly, makes your chest ache. there’s something intimate in how unhurried he is, how his steps match yours once you reach the soft sand. when he stops, it’s in a small, nestled alcove, half-shadowed by a dune wall, protected just enough to make it feel like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you. he lays down the bag carefully, crouching to pull out a blanket and an extra battery pack, then adjusts the tripod and tests the angle, his fingers working with silent ease.

you stand there for a moment, watching him, heart pounding for reasons you haven’t sorted through yet.

"this is definitely going to be a first for me…” you murmur, your voice soft and slightly shaky as your arms wrap loosely around yourself, your eyes drifting toward the dark stretch of waves behind him. “i’ve never done anything public.” the words feel heavier once they leave your mouth, hanging between you and the ocean air, caught somewhere between nervous excitement and the unknown. he looks up from where he’s crouched in the sand, his fingers twisting something on the base of the tripod, and for a second, the moonlight catches his expression—soft, calm, but unmistakably intrigued. “i’m glad to be the first, then,” he says, his voice low with a subtle edge of teasing confidence, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rises slowly to his full height. his body is close now—too close, the heat of him bleeding into your space as his figure looms above yours, the sharp difference in your heights making you tilt your chin up just to keep his gaze. his eyes don’t wander, not yet; they stay fixed on you with a sort of quiet intensity, like he’s already begun memorizing your features under moonlight. “are you ready to go for it?” he asks, his voice dipping just slightly lower, and the way his tongue darts across his lower lip leaves a shimmer behind that catches the light. your stomach flips as his eyes linger on your face, not impatient, not forceful—just waiting, just watching, like whatever happens next is yours to decide.

you nod slowly, breath caught somewhere between nerves and anticipation, and he catches your hand with such care it almost makes your chest ache—his fingers curling gently around yours like you’re something precious, something fragile, and he guides you down to the blanket he’s laid out across the sand. the moment you sit, you feel the coolness of the fabric beneath your legs, the way the grains of sand shift underneath, grounding you as the breeze tugs lightly at your clothes and the sound of the ocean murmurs just behind you, low and steady. he lowers himself with you, crouching at your feet with a kind of focus that steals the air from your lungs, his hands trailing deliberately along the shape of your calves, then your ankles, then the delicate curve of your heels as he slips your shoes off and sets them to the side like they might interrupt what’s about to happen. his touch lingers longer than necessary, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet, and when his eyes lift again, they don’t just look at you—they study you, flicking between your mouth and your eyes as if he’s already imagining what they’ll look like when you fall apart under him. your hair moves slightly in the wind, a few strands sweeping across your cheek, and he reaches up without thinking, brushing them away with his knuckles before sitting back for a single second—just enough time to press the record button on the camera, the soft mechanical click echoing beneath the hush of the waves. he comes right back to you after that, like he couldn’t bear the space for long, his hand rising to cradle your jaw as he leans in, the warmth of him close enough to make you dizzy before he’s even touched your mouth. and then he kisses you—slowly, deeply, with so much deliberate tenderness that your toes curl into the blanket, his lips soft and searching as he tilts his head just slightly to fit you better, like he’s done this before in a dream. his hand moves to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, his body shifting closer until his knees brush yours and his breath is all you can taste, all you can feel, all you can want.

his hand slips from the nape of your neck down to your waist, warm and steady as it curves along your side, pulling you gently toward him until your chest presses to his and the kiss shifts—deeper now, hungrier, like he’s been waiting far too long to taste you. the blanket crinkles beneath your knees as he guides you lower, your bodies sinking into the soft give of the sand, your thighs brushing his as he shifts to straddle you, but never once breaking the kiss. you let out a soft breath against his mouth when his hands begin to roam again—one trailing up your back beneath your hoodie, the other brushing the exposed strip of skin above your waistband, like he’s mapping out every part of you he’s about to memorize. the ocean crashes in the distance, closer now, the waves folding over each other in slow, thundering rhythm that somehow mirrors the pace of his hands and the rising flutter in your chest. his lips finally leave yours only to trail down your jaw, then your neck, kissing a path across your pulse like he can feel it jumping under his mouth, like he wants to taste just how nervous and ready you are. you tilt your head to give him more room, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt at his back, anchoring yourself to something solid as his mouth moves lower, warm and open and reverent. his hand dips beneath the hem of your hoodie, pushing it slowly upward until the cool night air licks at your skin, goosebumps rising under his touch as he pulls it over your head with careful fingers. his eyes flicker back up to yours then, and he pauses—not because he’s unsure, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, his chest rising and falling as he whispers, “fuck… you’re even better in person.”

his fingers curl gently at the hem of your jeans, eyes flickering up to your face before he moves, as if waiting for one final breath of confirmation before he takes what’s already his. you nod faintly, lips parted and chest rising with uneven breaths, and that’s all he needs — his touch dips lower, thumbs pressing lightly into the creases of your hips as he begins to peel the fabric down, inch by inch, dragging it over the swell of your ass with reverence. the night air rushes to greet your newly exposed skin, cool and soft, brushing over your thighs like a phantom touch that makes you shiver, and you swear you feel the sand shift beneath you from the strength of your heartbeat alone. he kneels lower as he pulls them past your knees, his knuckles grazing the inside of your calves with a feather-light touch that makes your toes curl, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully discards the jeans beside the blanket. he stays there for a second, crouched between your legs with the surf murmuring behind him, and even in the dim glow of moonlight, you can see how tightly his jaw is set, his breath visible when it leaves his lips in soft puffs. his hands trail back up slowly, his palms warm and sure, sliding along your bare thighs like he’s mapping them for the first time, and he exhales a quiet, reverent “fuck” when his thumbs ghost the edge of your underwear. “you’re really letting me see you like this…” he murmurs, almost to himself, and there’s something in his voice—hunger, wonder, something deeper—that makes your heart thud even harder in your chest.

he doesn’t touch you at first. not yet. his hands fall to the hem of his own shirt, his fingers curling into the fabric as his eyes stay locked on yours, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look away first—but you don’t. you watch him, frozen in place on the blanket, the sound of the waves folding over each other behind you like the earth is holding its breath for what’s coming. the shirt lifts slowly, exposing the soft ridges of his stomach first, pale skin dappled with faint moonlight, the muscles flexing faintly as he pulls the cotton up his chest. he’s not performing, not trying to make it seductive—it just is, naturally, inherently, like the act of undressing in front of you is something sacred and instinctive at the same time. his arms stretch as he tugs it over his head, messing his hair slightly in the process, the tousled strands falling over his forehead once the fabric is tossed aside, forgotten in the sand. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t rush—he just reaches down to the button of his jeans, the sharp pop of it parting sounding louder than it should in the stillness of night. you can feel it in your body before you even understand it—the tightening in your chest, the ache blooming between your thighs, the flicker of anticipation rising like a slow burn. and then he’s lowering the zipper, the metal teeth dragging open with quiet friction, and you swear you could count each inch by the way your breathing staggers.

he pushes them down with a single movement, hips rolling forward just slightly as the denim slides past the curves of his thighs, pooling around his ankles in a wrinkled mess of fabric and heat. the ocean breeze kisses across the bare skin of his torso, but he doesn’t shiver—he just looks at you, like you’re the only warmth he needs, his chest rising and falling with the slow build of something that’s no longer just lust. even in the dim lighting, you can see how hard he is through the thin fabric of his briefs, the outline prominent and unmistakable, straining against the dark cotton with every breath he takes. but he doesn’t move to touch himself—not yet—he just steps out of the jeans and kicks them aside, the hush of the sand shifting beneath his feet grounding the moment in something painfully real. he’s gorgeous in a way that almost hurts to look at, like he was carved to be seen only in moonlight, the lines of his body sharp and soft in all the right places, his collarbones shadowed and neck flushed faintly with color. when he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of his underwear, his eyes never leave yours—not even for a second—and it makes your breath catch in your throat with how deliberate it all feels. it isn’t performative, not for the camera, not for a paycheck—it’s intimate, personal, almost reverent, like undressing in front of you is a privilege he doesn’t want to take for granted. and then, slowly, he starts to lower them.

he doesn’t climb on top of you right away—he kneels first, bare knees sinking into the edge of the blanket as his hands settle at either side of your thighs, his breath steady but deeper now, heavier. his eyes sweep over your body with a kind of hunger that’s been aching behind every look since he first saw your face, but now it’s raw, unhidden, his gaze softening only when it lands on your mouth. “come here,” he murmurs, voice low, almost hoarse, and you do—you lean forward instinctively, pulled by something magnetic in the way he’s looking at you. his mouth finds yours before you can say anything, slow and warm, lips molding to yours in a way that feels like he’s been craving it, like he’s imagined it too many times to hold back anymore. the kiss deepens gradually, never rushed, just sinking and sinking until his tongue grazes the seam of your lips and you part them for him without thinking. his hand cups the side of your neck gently, thumb pressing just under your jaw, not tight, just there—reminding you that he’s in no hurry to stop tasting you. you moan faintly against his lips, and that sound makes his hand twitch against your skin, a soft growl curling at the back of his throat. his other hand slides slowly down your waist, tracing the curve of your hip until it dips between your thighs.

his fingertips brush the inner seam of your panties, featherlight at first, just enough to make you shiver as the kiss deepens again—slower now, wetter, your lips parting around his with every sigh that spills between you. the pad of his middle finger presses gently over the damp fabric, circling once, and your breath catches in your throat the second he realizes how soaked you already are. “fuck…” he whispers against your mouth, the word hot and thick with disbelief, like it makes him crazy to know you’re like this for him. he pulls back just enough to look at your face, his thumb still tracing under your chin as his other hand slips beneath the fabric, the waistband stretching just slightly around his wrist. your thighs twitch when he makes contact, his fingertip dragging up your slit slowly, softly, gathering every bit of slick before circling your clit with unhurried pressure. your hips lift in response, a quiet whimper falling from your lips before you can stop it, and he groans quietly as if your reaction alone is enough to undo him. “you’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his eyes locked on your mouth again like he’s tempted to kiss you until you fall apart in his hands. his fingers slide lower again, dipping into your entrance just barely—just enough to tease—before pulling back to circle your clit again, slow and tender, like he’s learning every inch of you by touch alone.

his hand doesn’t rush. it slips lower with the kind of care that feels rehearsed—not out of boredom, but out of deep, deliberate control, like he’s been thinking about this moment for too long to mess it up now. his fingers skim the waistband of your panties first, not pulling, not yet—just stroking along the edge, like he wants to feel every last barrier before taking it away. his mouth stays on your neck, soft and unrelenting, lips brushing just below your ear as he breathes you in, the pads of his fingers finally curling beneath the thin fabric and grazing over your bare skin. you twitch—just a little—and he notices, because of course he does, and the low chuckle that leaves his throat vibrates against your jaw like it’s meant to settle under your skin. “you’re already so warm,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as his hand flattens between your thighs, cupping you fully, letting the heel of his palm press in just the right way. the friction is light—barely there—but it makes you gasp all the same, your legs shifting open without him having to ask. he draws slow, deliberate circles with his middle finger, not dipping in yet, just tracing over your clit like it’s his to learn, his to memorize, his to keep. your body starts to respond without thought, hips rolling into his touch, breaths coming in little stutters every time he drags his fingertip in tighter, more focused motions.

his kisses grow slower the more your body reacts, like he’s savoring each moan he pulls from your throat, like they’re all proof that you want this just as much as he does. he presses a kiss beneath your jaw, then trails down again, lips brushing your collarbone, soft and open-mouthed, like he’s marking a path only he’s allowed to follow. his free hand comes up to slide beneath your bra, thumb brushing your nipple with practiced ease as the other hand stays between your legs, his fingers never stopping, never breaking the rhythm he’s set. the ocean is a distant sound now, replaced by the soft rush of your breath and the quiet slick noise of his touch working you open. “you feel that?” he whispers, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your stomach flutter. “you’re so fucking wet already…” your moan is breathless, not quite a plea, but it makes his jaw flex anyway, like he’s holding himself back, like if he doesn’t pace himself, he’ll lose it. his fingers slide lower for just a second, parting your folds to gather more of your arousal before circling back up to your clit, slick now, gliding smoother, deeper, more precise.

his touch builds pressure in waves—gentle, controlled, then a little firmer when you roll your hips just right, when your body pulses against his palm like it’s begging for more. he watches your face the whole time, eyes sharp and dark, soaking in every twitch of your brows, every soft drop of your lips, like he’s collecting your reactions to keep for later. your thighs tremble, and he moves with it, adjusting his angle so his finger presses a little tighter, a little faster, like he knows exactly what you need without having to be told. his lips find your shoulder, then the base of your throat again, his voice low and thick when he speaks next. “don’t hold back, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “let me hear how good it feels.” his words shoot straight through you, and you do—you let your moan slip out freely this time, soft and high, your chest arching into him as his fingers work tighter, faster, pushing you closer to the edge. he’s not even inside yet and still, you feel like you’re going to break, like his touch alone could ruin you if he doesn’t stop—or if he doesn’t give you more.

his hand shifts, just enough to change the rhythm, his fingertips pausing at your entrance like he’s waiting for you to twitch, to gasp, to show him just how ready you are. and when you do—when your breath hitches and your hips shift forward just slightly—he rewards you with a slow, gentle push, slipping one finger inside you with a smooth ease that makes your entire body go still for a second. the stretch is light but firm, deliberate, like he’s testing the way you open for him, the way you take him in. his breath fans across your cheek as he presses in to the knuckle, and you swear you feel him smile just barely against your skin, his lips grazing your jaw like he’s proud. your walls clench around the intrusion and he groans quietly in response, a low sound that makes your thighs twitch where they’re spread in the sand, your back arched slightly into the curve of his chest. his finger curls slowly, just once, then again, dragging along the front wall with precision that feels far too confident for a first time. “so tight…” he murmurs, almost reverent, his eyes locked on the way your lips part and your lashes flutter shut. “so fucking good, baby.”

he doesn’t rush the second finger—not yet. instead, he draws the first one out nearly all the way before sliding it back in, slow and deep, letting the motion settle into something you can’t help but grind down into. his thumb never strays far from your clit, brushing it just enough to keep you gasping softly, to keep your body trembling as he sets the pace. the ocean behind you is nothing more than a backdrop now, white noise to the heavy rhythm of your breath and the quiet squelch of his finger gliding in and out of you, slick and steady. your hands clutch the blanket beneath you, fingers curling into the fabric, desperate to ground yourself as he keeps you hovering, not too fast, not too much—just enough to make your thighs ache. he leans in closer, lips brushing your ear again as he adds the second finger with the same slow care, easing it in beside the first and pausing once it’s buried to the base. “you’re taking me so well,” he breathes, voice low and full of awe. “fuck, you feel even better than i imagined.”

the stretch is fuller now, his two fingers working you open in slow, deliberate pumps that have your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, your hips rocking down against his hand in search of more pressure. you feel full but not overwhelmed, the friction deep and purposeful, his fingers curling inside you with each thrust to press against the spot that makes your knees twitch. your mouth falls open as he picks up the pace, just slightly, his thumb pressing tighter against your clit now, circling in tandem with the rhythm of his thrusts. every movement is fluid, synced, like he’s orchestrating your body without ever taking his eyes off you. “you’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple now as his other hand cradles your jaw to guide your face toward his. “look at me, baby. i want to see you fall apart.” your eyes flutter open, hazy and glassy, and his expression darkens the moment you meet his gaze—like he’s feeding off your pleasure, like it’s pulling something out of him too.

his fingers push deeper, firmer now, each thrust met with the sound of your arousal slicking down his hand, your legs trembling against the blanket as you start to clench harder around him. the moans slipping from your lips are higher now, breathier, no longer controlled, and his lips find yours in the middle of one—swallowing the sound like he needs to feel every second of it. the kiss is slow at first, just like everything else, but it deepens fast, your mouths open and hungry, tongues brushing in time with his thrusts. the hand on your jaw keeps you close, keeps you steady, while the other works your cunt with dizzying precision, two fingers stroking inside you like they were made for it. every roll of your hips brings a low grunt from his throat, and you feel the tension building deep in your core now, coiling tighter with every passing second. “you’re gonna cum for me like this, yeah?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice hot and rough against your lips. “fuck—i want to feel it. want to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

your body’s already answering before your mouth can—hips stuttering, thighs trembling, breath catching in your throat as your walls begin to flutter around his fingers. his thrusts don’t stop, don’t slow, but his thumb presses harder now, circling fast and tight over your clit, dragging you toward the edge with no mercy. your moans pitch higher, breathier, as your body bucks forward, helpless against the wave building inside you. “that’s it, baby,” he whispers, mouth at your jaw again, pressing kisses between his words. “just like that… fuck, you’re so perfect.” the tension finally snaps, heat exploding low in your belly and rushing through your limbs as you cum hard on his fingers, your back arching and your mouth falling open on a sharp cry that gets lost in the crash of the waves nearby. he keeps moving through it, working you down slowly, his pace easing as you shake and gasp and grip his wrist like you need something to hold on to. your skin is flushed, your hair wild, your chest heaving as your thighs twitch with aftershocks.

you’re still reeling, breath stuttering in your throat and thighs trembling from the aftershocks, when he pulls his fingers from you with a slow, deliberate drag. they glisten in the faint moonlight, slick with your release, but he doesn’t even glance at them—his eyes are on you, completely locked in, like he can’t look away even if he tried. his chest rises and falls with a heavy rhythm, and you feel the heat from his bare skin as he leans in closer, the muscles of his stomach flexing with each breath. you barely notice the shift in his hands until he reaches past you, fingers brushing the tripod beside the blanket—still rolling, still catching everything. but he doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t even think twice. “fuck this shit,” he mutters, voice hoarse and low, as he taps the button to end the recording, the red light fading instantly as he tosses the remote into the sand like it means nothing. and then he’s on you again—no more angles, no more planning, just his lips crashing into yours like he needs you more than air.

the kiss is messy, deeper now, tinged with the urgency that’s been simmering beneath his skin all night, and you can feel the way his body trembles when your fingers slide down his sides. his hands roam with less restraint now, no longer careful or tentative but hungry, dragging up your thighs, over your hips, gripping the sides of your waist like he needs to anchor himself before he sinks too far into you. your name slips from his mouth between kisses, ragged and breathless, as he guides you back into the sand, the blanket doing little to cushion the heat of his body on yours. every movement is rougher now, more instinctive—the way his mouth latches onto your neck, the way his hips grind against yours like he’s already buried inside you. he settles between your legs with practiced ease, the tip of his cock dragging through your slick folds, catching at your entrance but never pushing in just yet, just teasing. “look at me,” he says suddenly, voice low but clear, his palm flattening over your cheek as he holds your gaze. “don’t look away, baby. not tonight.”

he pushes in slow, all at once, the stretch thick and satisfying, and your mouth drops open on a gasp as your body tenses beneath him. his groan is guttural—deep, broken—his forehead pressing to yours as he bottoms out, hips snug against yours, like he’s finally found something he didn’t know he was missing. he doesn’t move for a second, just stays there, buried inside you and breathing like he’s just run a marathon, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you can feel the tremble in his fingers. “fuck… fuck, you feel too good,” he whispers, almost in disbelief, like your body wrapping around him is something he can’t quite believe is real. his cock twitches inside you as you clench, your legs tightening around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, closer, like your body already knows how to beg for more. and when he finally starts to move, it’s slow, deep thrusts that drag every inch of him along your walls with unbearable friction, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. “this… this is better,” he breathes, mouth ghosting over your jaw, “better than anything we could’ve filmed.”

his rhythm stays steady at first—measured, deliberate—but the tension in his body starts to crack with each roll of your hips against his, and soon his pace turns rougher, more desperate. his hands splay across your thighs, holding you open as he fucks into you harder, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust until you’re arching into him, gasping for air. the sand clings to your skin, sticking to the sheen of sweat along your back, but you can’t feel anything except him—his breath in your ear, the slap of skin against skin, the guttural sound of your name as he groans it like a confession. “you don’t get it,” he pants, voice cracking around the edges, “you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger—but this… this is mine.” and he means it—not with jealousy, but with something sharper, something closer to worship, like having you under him like this is a prize no one else deserves. your hands dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks behind as your next moan breaks apart in his mouth, and he kisses you through it, lips bruising against yours with every thrust.

his hand slides up your waist without slowing down, fingers pressing possessively into your skin as he lifts your hips just slightly—angling you in a way that has your breath hitching hard in your throat the moment he thrusts again. the new position lets him reach deeper, hit harder, and he feels the way you clench around him with every movement. your thighs tremble around his waist, barely able to keep your hold as your body starts to unravel beneath him, but you don’t dare let go. his mouth finds your jaw, then the sensitive spot beneath your ear, teeth grazing over the salt-slick skin before biting down just enough to make you cry out. the sound you make goes straight to his head, and he moans into your neck—low, rough, almost pained. “say it,” he rasps, his voice jagged and wrecked, the rhythm of his thrusts growing harsher, more erratic. “tell me it’s mine.”

you nod before you even realize it, head falling back against the blanket beneath you, hips arching up to meet his with helpless desperation. but it’s not enough. he stops. he’s buried deep inside you, cock pulsing, but he doesn’t move—his palm comes up, fingers curling tight under your jaw to force your gaze back to his. your heart stutters in your chest at the look in his eyes—dark, wild, possessive in a way that makes your thighs squeeze tighter around him, like your body already knows it belongs to him. “say it,” he growls again, this time softer, like he’s pleading even as he commands. “say no one else gets you like this. say it’s only me who gets to feel you. see you. fuck you.”

“it’s yours,” you whisper, voice cracking, lips trembling beneath his. your throat feels raw from moaning, from gasping, from the burn of everything he’s pulling out of you—but you say it again anyway, louder this time, firmer. “it’s all yours—fuck, only you. only you.” the second you speak the words, he exhales like they’re the only thing holding him together, and then he’s moving again—thrusting back into you so hard you feel it in your teeth, in your spine, in the way your body curls up into him like you can’t bear a second of distance.

the sound of your skin slapping together echoes in the cool night, and your moans fall out of you with each thrust, getting louder, messier, as you near the edge. his weight presses you down, burying you into the blanket beneath, into the sand, and it feels like you’re being claimed. he kisses you like he’s starving, mouth devouring yours, his tongue tangling with yours as his hips roll with purpose—grinding against your clit every time he bottoms out until your back arches off the ground and your whole body trembles beneath him.

you come so hard you forget to breathe. your legs lock around him, your nails dig into his back, and you cry out his name like it’s the only word you remember. the pleasure blinds you, rips through your core and steals every thought until all you can feel is him—his cock still driving into you, his name groaned into your mouth, his hands holding you down like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

he follows right after, hips jerking as he moans your name like it’s sacred, like it hurts to say. he spills inside you with a shudder, his body trembling above yours, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling in the heavy heat between you.

but then his hand slides down, slow and deliberate, palm dragging across your thigh like he’s still hungry. his cock twitches inside you, not softening, and when he lifts his head to look at you again, there’s something dangerous behind his eyes—something greedy, aching, barely satisfied.

“not done,” he whispers, almost apologetic. “can’t be done. not when you feel like this.”

before you can speak, he’s moving again—rolling his hips into yours with slow, deep thrusts that make your breath hitch all over again. you’re still sensitive, your body still fluttering from the last high, and it makes every drag of his cock feel too good, too much, too soon. your fingers curl into the back of his neck, your back arching without your permission as he begins to build a rhythm, slower this time, more focused.

“you drive me fucking insane,” he murmurs against your neck, kissing the spot just below your ear, biting down softly when you gasp. “look at you—already trembling for me, still soaking wet, still so fucking perfect.”

he pulls almost all the way out just to watch your face, then slides back in with a groan that has his eyes fluttering shut, like your body is the one place he can breathe. every thrust is drawn out, measured and deep, making you whimper as the oversensitivity turns into something more potent—something sharper, hotter, harder to hold back.

his hand slides under your thigh again, lifting it higher around his waist, and the angle has you gasping, your nails dragging down his back. “gonna fuck you again just like this,” he pants, voice fraying at the edges, “right here, right now—until you forget anyone else even exists.”

his thrusts fall into a rhythm again, slower but deeper, more possessive now, like he’s not just fucking you—he’s reminding you. of who he is, of what you just gave him, of the way your body fits around his like it was made to. each stroke pulls a breath from your chest, a broken sound from your throat, and he swallows them one by one with kisses that land messy and hot against your jaw, your mouth, your throat.

you’re already too sensitive—every movement lights you up, makes your legs tremble and your hands scrabble for something to hold on to. he doesn’t let you run. one of his arms hooks under your lower back and lifts your hips, keeping you locked against him as he drives into you, over and over, deeper, harder, more sure. his body is heavy against yours but it feels grounding, anchoring, like he’s the only thing holding you to this earth.

“you feel that?” he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse and wrecked, and you nod helplessly, nails biting into his skin. “feel how good you take me? how perfect you fuckin’ take me?” his hand snakes up between you, fingers pressing down on your clit with just enough pressure to make your whole body jolt. your hips buck, and he groans like you’re killing him, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips, more desperation than control.

you’re close again—too close—and the way he keeps grinding into you with that thick, unrelenting rhythm, the way his hand doesn’t stop moving, it’s like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. “come for me,” he says, voice shaking. “let me hear how good i fuck you.”

you do. you can’t stop it even if you tried. your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, ripping a scream from your chest as your body seizes around him, back arching, mouth falling open. your vision blurs with stars that have nothing to do with the sky. your pussy clenches tight around him, pulsing hard with every throb of pleasure as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high like a man possessed.

his name falls from your lips over and over—no control, no shame, just pure need.

he cums again with a growl, hips slamming into you one last time as he spills inside you all over again, the heat of it spilling out between your thighs. his head drops to your shoulder as he groans your name like he’s praying, like he’s begging, like he’s offering you something he doesn’t even know how to put into words.

you’re both still gasping for breath, tangled together in the heat of the aftermath, his body heavy against yours as the waves continue to whisper nearby. your chest rises and falls beneath him, heart racing, your skin dewy with sweat and speckled with grains of sand that cling stubbornly to every curve. for a moment, neither of you speaks—just the quiet hum of the ocean and the way his hand lazily traces up and down your side, smoothing over your ribs like he can’t stop touching you.

“you okay?” he finally murmurs, voice husky and low, warm against your cheek as he nuzzles closer. you nod, eyes still fluttered half shut, and you feel the smile that curls against your skin when he presses a kiss there. he doesn’t rush. his hand glides down, then hooks behind your knee, and before you can react, he’s lifting you up—effortless, like your weight means nothing in his arms.

you let out a soft squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stands with you pressed against his chest, still completely bare, still glowing with the flush of what just happened. “what are you doing?” you laugh, your voice breathless and high, but it makes him grin even wider. “washing off the prettiest girl,” he teases, eyes sparkling as he starts walking toward the shoreline, feet sinking into the sand with every step. “can’t have you all sticky and messy, can i?”

you hide your face in his shoulder, body warm from both the afterglow and his touch, and you feel the rumble of his soft chuckle beneath your cheek. he wades into the water with you held tight, only stopping once the waves are lapping at his waist. the ocean is cooler than the air, and it makes you shiver when it first hits your skin, but he holds you tighter, anchoring you against him like a human heater. one arm stays under your thighs while the other curves behind your back, fingertips gliding in slow circles.

he dips you down a little, just enough for the water to kiss your shoulders, and then lifts you again, like he’s cradling something precious. you meet his eyes, and they’re so soft now—nothing like the fire from earlier, just quiet awe, like he can’t believe you’re real. he leans in to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck—so many kisses, each one slower than the last, lingering, lips wet and warm from the sea. “you’re perfect,” he mumbles between them, words brushing your skin like poetry, “so fucking perfect.”

you’re not even sure what to say. your fingers twist in the hair at the back of his neck as your heart thumps hard again, but for a different reason this time. this isn't lust—it’s tenderness, intimacy, something that makes your chest feel too small to hold it all. he keeps kissing you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your face, even as the water laps at your skin and the stars glitter quietly above.

“stay right here with me,” he whispers, voice carried by the breeze. and you do—you melt into him, let the tide sway around your bodies as he holds you like you’re the most important thing he’s ever touched.

you let him hold you, let yourself rest your cheek against his shoulder while the tide rocks around you like a lullaby, and for a while, it feels easy. his breath is warm on your skin, and his arms stay wrapped tight around your waist like he’s scared the ocean might steal you away. the kisses don’t stop—soft little presses against your neck, your temple, the curve of your shoulder—and he’s humming something under his breath now, barely audible but comforting all the same.

it’s sweet. too sweet. dangerously sweet.

you blink up at the stars, jaw tightening as the weight of it all starts to sink in—the way he’s looking at you, the way your body fits into his, the way your heart is beating a little too fast, too full, and none of this was supposed to feel like this. not here. not now.

he says something again, something playful and light about how you look good in the moonlight, but it barely registers. your throat tightens. you laugh, but it’s thin. and when he leans in again, you shift your head away just slightly, not enough to be obvious—but enough to breathe, to remind yourself this isn’t forever.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

you were supposed to have fun. that was the plan—go in, enjoy it, play the game, collect your wins, keep your heart locked behind your teeth. and yet here you are, getting carried into the sea like a scene from a dream you were never meant to be in. you’re getting too soft. too attached. and not just to him.

your stomach twists as the reality lands hard: this is just one night. one boy. one body. but your soul keeps making it something more, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up falling for all of them.

your eyes flutter shut. you force a smile back on your lips and nestle into his shoulder like nothing’s changed. like your whole chest isn’t aching.

three more. that’s what you tell yourself. just three more times. and then you're done.

but even as you say it, you know you’re lying. and worse—you don’t know who you're lying to more.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hey…hey….>.< okayyyy not as long as my other ones but don’t you worry, next chapter will be !!

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#enhypen #enha #enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #heeluvv #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #premium content

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my-brain-is-full-of-wobbledogs · 2 years ago

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Random irrational fear number ???

It is randomly revealed that the age of consent for Balan's species is like 5000 years.

#i still have to use the dis/ney collab loading screen as a proof of lico's age #please don't let this fear come true. let me have this one.

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bakugoushotwife · 2 years ago

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a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do.

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself.

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen.

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure?

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand.

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this.

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?”

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means.

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders.

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?”

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?”

“well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod.

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings.

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?”

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago.

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair.

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason.

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body.

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men.

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion.

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.”

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed.

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway.

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.”

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start.

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real.

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.”

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.”

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?”

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but.

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you.

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention.

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams.

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously.

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it.

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his.

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again?

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how.

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command.

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it.

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue.

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname.

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy.

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight.

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.”

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious.

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife.

#kishibyesredditcollab #dark content #x female reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut

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nondidd · 2 years ago

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OOOHHHH!! HOW COOL!!!! Three against one >:^) Your OCs have awesome designs. They give me Promare vibes - Vibrate hair and big shapes, very cool!!

PREPARE FOR TROUBLE! AND MAKE IT.... TRIPLE???

Huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @nondidd for hosting this open collab <3

I had a ton of fun joining in and drawing my two ignihyde men(aces). I tried (emphasis on tried) to mimic the style of lineart and shading as to make it as cohesive as possible (and pls don't mind my cutting skills, this is as seamless as i could've gotten it lmao)

#loading screen collab #thank you for joining!!#and going through the trouble of trying to match the lineart and everything!! this is dope!!

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cherrycranes · 7 months ago

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Dream Girl (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: You're Neil's favorite (and only) camgirl and the girl of his dreams, and he finally has a video call with you. Word count: 3,307 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl! Needy Neil, cam sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, fluff! Author's notes: Once again, a collab with @fuckiingloser my beloved. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Underneath there's a Neil playlist I made, the pinterest moodboard to help you visualize this fic and something more! ;)

Part 2: HERE

Neil anxiously stared at the computer screen waiting for it to connect. The circular motions of the loading icon toyed with his impatience. This was serious to him. After selling some old valuable tapes from Gumshoe, he had just enough to pay for a private video call with her: his favorite cam girl, his ultimate dream girl, the one he had been dedicated to watching for the last few months.

He had stumbled upon her in his usual search for porn months ago, in one desperate and lonely night. After closing and closing several porn tabs and profiles, finding absolutely nothing that scratched the right spot for him, he saw her. In all her pink, fluffy, girl-next-door-esque glory. He sat there in complete awe, watching her just smile and laugh, chatting to subscribers and also watching her touch herself… Neil loved it all. From her beautiful hair, her beautiful smile, pretty eyes and perfect body… She had taken over every single thought of his. He became completely hooked since. Generously tipping her, subscribing to her only fans and leaving sweet messages since subscribing.

He couldn’t believe it, after months, he had finally gotten the chance to have a one-on-one call with her. Half of his daydreams and fantasies were about the moment he could talk to her and not just write her his usual nice comments online. He nervously fixed his hair on the reflection of the monitor at the thought. Nothing in this world would let him miss this… Not even the cost. Selling a few of his vintage vhs tapes was not a big deal if it meant he got to see her.

Neil was positively and undeniably obsessed… Not in the stalker way, of course… He was always respectful. He just had a crush, and a deep yearning to have the chance to take her on a date, get to know her, make her laugh at the very least… His dream girl…

Snapping him out of his thoughts, the screen finally blinked on, making him smile softly when he saw his dream girl pop on the screen.

“Hi there, Neil…” You greeted him with your sensual but sweet voice. You quite liked him as a subscriber. You had seen from his profile that he was only a few years older than you, and from his comments you always knew he was nice, but when you finally saw him appear on your screen you were pleasantly impressed. Neil was much cuter than what you expected him to be. His beautiful pale blue eyes, his soft brown curls, his sweet smile… God help you, he was dreamy…

You sat pretty on your pink fluffy duvet cover on your bed, your laptop was propped right in front of you at the perfect angle, showing your body and lovely face. Neil’s reaction to that image was just delicious, his eyes widened and you moved back a little, revealing the tiny see through pink lingerie set you wore… At his request, of course.

From the screen you could tell this already had an effect on him, his cock definitely hardening in his pants and his eyes raking all over you through his monitor. Despite being so used to watching you he still felt weak on the knees.

“H-hi… you look… so beautiful ...” Neil stuttered just so cutely through his big smile, his usual sweetness shining through. Even when he commented in your livestreams or messaged you he was always a total sweetheart. Most of the other comments you received were well… Vulgar and far too descriptive. That is why Neil always stood out to you, the only one who was actually nice, the one who always tuned into your streams, even the ones where you weren’t naked. He just wanted to see you and hear you talk.

“Thank you… You’re too sweet..” You purred to him, smiling and turning around on your knees just to let him see the outfit from the back. Your hand slowly and very sensually ran over your body and the delicate pink lace and flower embroidery of your see-through bra and thong. He watched, completely out of breath. The shape of your ass, the way the lingerie did nothing to hide your charms. He felt himself grow harder.

“Wow…” He whispered, almost dizzy. “You’re perfect…”

Words weren’t enough. “Perfect” didn't even cover just how incredible you were to him. Neil LOVED the dainty, girly lingerie sets you always wore, your all-pink girly room, your innocent eyes, your soft voice. You were the perfect girl next door, the embodiment of all his fantasies combined and presented like a goddess in front of him… And now you were his… Even if it was just for the hour.

Satisfied with his cute reaction, you sat back down on the bed, smiling softly for the camera.

“You’ve got all of me for an hour… Any special requests?” You asked kindly, charmingly. Neil felt his mind turn to mush for a second, just staring at you for a bit before gathering his thoughts enough to answer.

“Could you touch yourself and moan my name… Please?” He asked so softly, your lips curled into a smirk.

“Of course, I can do that. Fingers or a toy?” Your tone was slightly flirty but still very sweet.

“A vibrator… the one you always use…” Neil answered right away, not even thinking about it. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“As you wish..” You smiled and leaned off camera for a second to grab the toy that waited ready for you to use.

“This one?” You came back into frame and, with a cheeky smile on your face, held up the realistic pink dick shaped vibrator.

Neil’s eyes widened a bit in recognition and he nodded with a smile, his hand squeezed his hard on over his pants as he took in the sight of you on the screen. You leaned back against your pretty pink pillows and slowly spread your legs. He shifted closer towards the monitor, lured in by you and the way you gently pulled your sheer panties down your legs and tossed them aside, exposing your pretty little pussy.

It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d seen it… But it was the first time that only him got to see it. He groaned, looking at your perfectly waxed lips reverently. How he wished he could just dive into the screen and magically appear in front of you.

“How do I look?” You asked with a pretty smirk, two gentle fingers spreading your lips apart for him to drool for. His breath hitched a bit and he swallowed hard, fighting his own brain for coherent words.

“You look like a goddess…” He said, almost in awe. “Your pussy is so pretty..”

You smiled sincerely at his compliment before a motion from your thumb turned the vibrator on. The pink toy slowly and teasingly traveled to your clit, and you moaned instantly when it touched it and made it send waves of pleasure through you. You closed your eyes and Neil kept his wide open, your lips curved into a little smirk before you fulfilled his second request:

“Neil… oh baby… feels so good..” You could have killed him with that breathy moan. He couldn’t contain a groan and his hands couldn’t stop themselves from squeezing his aching cock over his pants.

When you opened your eyes, you looked at your screen, smiling at the sight.

“You can touch yourself if you want… I wanna see you too…” You cooed to him.

“Really?” Neil asked, obviously very excited at the thought of both of you getting off together, even if it was through the computer. You nodded with a pretty moan, moving the vibrator against you a bit more. He breathed out, your pussy glistened more and more before his eyes, and for a moment, he savored it in his imagination. His hand took his aching hard on out of his pants and scooted his chair back so you could see all of him.

Quickly, he spat into his hand and wrapped it around his needy cock, gently groaning at the feeling, imagining it was your pussy instead of his hand. He looked up and saw you watching him with those lovely eyes of yours, he gave himself a few slow pumps.

“Mmm, your cock is so big…” You moan softly, biting your lip as you teased yourself with the toy, enticing the gentle strokes he gave himself.

“Big enough for you?” He asked almost desperately as he jerked off.

You smiled, gently turning the toy off and sliding it between your wet folds, just teasing yourself with it before finally pushing it in.

“Mmm… Definitely...” You moaned back to him, and he watched in amazement. You gently pushed the tip of the toy inside you, moaning deliciously as you adjusted around it.

“You wish this was your cock, instead?” You asked him seductively, earning an immediate nod from him.

“God, yes…” He answered quickly. “I'd literally do anything you wanted of me… I’d-I’d worship you…”

You moaned again, loudly, his words making you push the dildo in deeper and stretch yourself more.

“Worship me?” Your voice came out sensual, slightly affected by the feeling of the pink toy in you. Neil nodded and groaned, pumping his cock a bit faster.

“Yes... I’d love to kiss you, taste you… make you smile… make you come…” He was beautifully desperate, too fucking sweet. You felt your cheeks at the edge of burning, your hand kept moving, you kept fucking yourself with the dildo.

It was inevitable now, his adoring and genuine praises did something to you, to your wet cunt that only got much more wetter. You arched your back and moaned, never once stopping your hand that held the dildo.

“More..” You whined to him, needing more of his sweet words. His breathing sped up as his hands worked his cock faster. He was dumbfounded for a split second, but he would never deny you anything.

“I'd spend hours eating your pussy if you let me… I just wanna make you come with my tongue…” He added, his voice a little shaky.

“Oh fuck..” You moaned loudly, feeling so turned on and getting closer, faster than you expected too… You looked at the screen, seeing him stare at you with those beautiful desperate blue eyes. So, you moved the toy back to your clit and turned it up even higher.

“Neil… I'm gonna come..” You warned him with a loud whine that mixed with the buzzing sound of the vibrator. It was so uncommon for you to even reach this stage so fast, but there was something about his sweet voice, his eyes, his praises… They were doing something to you that you weren’t at all used to…

“Please, come for me…” Neil begged softly, his hand sped up around his cock. “I wanna come with you…” He moaned, shutting his pretty eyes and breathing heavily.

“Yes... Yes!” You cried out loudly, every muscle of your legs trembled viciously and your clit sent overwhelming waves of pleasure to every last nerve you had. The perfect prelude to an intense, looming orgasm. “Neil…” You moaned needy.

Neil´s baby blue eyes widened even more, watching you in amazement. With a few more vibrations against your sensitive clit, you came undone just for his eyes to enjoy. Your cry of pleasure sent shivers down his spine and harder pumps to his throbbing, aching cock. Oh, he’d do anything to feel that sweet orgasm of yours happen all around him.

“Fuck, me too.. I’m coming too..” He spoke with a strained voice, looking right at you and keeping eye contact through the screen. His eager hand jacked him off almost in desperation, massaging his hard cock until reaching an intense abrupt stop. Ropes of his thick white come coated his hand as he let out little groans. His dick twitched and pulsed in his palm and he threw his head back for a moment there. Your eyes studied the scene on your laptop screen detailedly, up until the last little bit of his cum dribbled out.

“Fuuuck..” He groaned softly, he then gave you a satisfied smile. “That was fucking amazing..”.

You giggled a little, his voice was hoarse and just so attractive. You couldn’t agree more with him.

For his eyes, you spread your pussy lips again, proudly showing him the aftermath of what he helped you achieve: your lips glistening with your orgasm. He groaned a bit, his mouth nearly watering.

“I wish I could clean you up with my tongue… I’d give anything for a taste…” He whispered desperately. You bit your lip, it was unbelievable just what this sweet guy did to you.

After a few more breaths, you both sat up and angled your cameras back up to your faces. Neil cleaned himself up on camera, a box of tissues ready on his desk.

“Sorry it happened so fast…” You started to apologize, your mind now clearer and aware that you still had a half hour left for the call, but Neil cut you off before you could finish speaking:

“Please… don’t apologize. That was… Everything to me. Besides… I’d love to just talk too, is that okay?…” He muttered softly.

“Yeah, of course, if that’s what you want…” You answered with slight sheepishness at his sweet words. Still, conversation with Neil just flowed… So naturally…

“You already know what I do for a living…” You said with a little smirk, his cute laughter resonated from your laptop´s speakers. “What do you do for work?”

“I actually own a small movie rental store… It's called Gumshoe Video. Been my dream since I was a kid, opened up about 5 years ago now, actually.” Neil answered with a genuine smile, proud of himself.

“Wow, that's awesome.. I actually love movies, especially older romance movies…” You confessed, and he felt butterflies. You were beautiful AND loved old movies? You really were his dream girl after all.

“Really?” He asked, a little shocked. You giggled gently.

“Yeah, of course… Brief Encounter is one of my favorites.” You looked at his perfect brown curls through the screen as his mouth turned into a grin.

“Wow! Yeah, I love that one! I love David Lean.” He agreed, something deep in his chest fluttering. The more you talked, the more you realized you had more in common than either of you would have ever thought. Talking with him was just so easy, so effortlessly. Neil was just as sweet talking face-to-face as he was online.

“Can I ask where you're from?” He said shyly, not knowing if that’s crossing the line or not. Understandable nervousness stirs in you.

“I usually don’t disclose that kind of information to anyone…” You started and received a pleasant little surprise when you saw Neil nodding in acceptance softly. But before he could speak you felt your gut just telling you to say it. “I live in Chicago.” You suddenly blurted out.

You watched his eyes widen a bit.

“Chicago?” Neil whispered to himself softly. “I-I’m in the Chicago suburbs!”

Your eyes widened too, the revelation feeling just right. He was so close to you this whole time and you didn’t even know it…

“Wow..” You whispered, a little shocked at the news. “Small world i guess…” You smiled and Neil laughed a bit.

“No kidding.” He agreed. The girl he’s been pining after and thinking about for months… Practically neighbors with him.

There was an awkward silence for a second as you both processed the information. Finally, he spoke:

“I'd love to possibly take you on a date sometime… If you’d be okay with it, that is… Just want to treat you like a princess... We wouldn’t have to have sex or anything…” He rambles just so cutely. You really considered it. Butterflies flew in your stomach. Most men only saw you as a sex object, something they could use and move on from. Neil wasn’t that kind of guy, that was obvious. He was kind and thoughtful. You had never even considered ever wanting to meet someone from only fans… Until today… Until Neil.

Your beautiful glossy lips almost uttered the word “yes”... But suddenly, you decided against it. You felt a little bad when you saw his face fall a bit at your decline, but you had to watch out for yourself. Though he was bummed, he understood.

“Of course, I understand completely… Maybe we could have another private session? I’d really love to talk again…” Neil adapted the goalposts for your comfort, his sweet innocent eyes making you melt. You smiled, and decided to accept. The grin returned to his handsome face.

“I'll have to sell some things but I'll be good… Maybe next week? Same day and same time?” He said enthusiastically and your smile fell a bit. Guilt crept back on you. He was selling things just to pay to speak to you. No, you wouldn't let this be.

Despite the fact that it had just been one call, you felt more for him, more than you ever thought you would. You usually had no problem taking men’s money but with him… It just felt wrong. You felt terrible.

“No, please don’t do that…” You stopped him, he furrowed his brow a bit in confusion. “Next one's on me because I finished so early this time…” It was an excuse, yes, but one that seemed to work well enough so he wouldn't have to sell his possessions just to see you.

“Really?” He asked softly, seeming a little shocked by your words. “It's really no problem… I don't want to take advantage of you… I know it’s your job…” He whispered, giving you those perfect sweet eyes that made you melt once again.

“Really.” You told him, completely sure of your decision. “I promise” And you reassured him with a soft smile. Neil´s smirk grew.

“Thank you so much… I'd just like to see you again... Maybe talk more about movies too, hopefully?” he asked softly, gentle excitement in his voice. You blushed a little bit. God, he’s sweet.

“I'd like that!” You agreed with a soft smile, a casual glance to the time on your laptop made you notice that you had reached a little over an hour on the call. “Well… I'll see you next week then, Neil…Bye bye!” You said softly, looking at him through the screen and giving him a little wave.

“Goodbye, beautiful… Sleep well.” Neil said so genuinely it made your heart burst a little. He gave you a soft wave and you smiled in return. The video call finally ended and you let out a deep sigh, feeling all kinds of emotions.

As the call ended on his end and the screen went back to black, Neil smiled to himself, feeling happier and more excited than he has in a long time. Now that he knew he would see you again next week, just like he did tonight… It made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He went to bed that night still reeling, replaying it all in his mind over and over. Finally, he set his phone down and settled into bed. A movie played for background noise as he tried to relax, even if the image of your beautiful face kept him awake and so painfully aware of just how much he needed you. It was then when his phone pinged with a notification from his bank:

$800.00 USD refunded to checking account.

Under it, there was a message reading:

“I enjoyed myself as much as you did… I’ll see you next week Neil, can’t wait…”

It was from you. His jaw dropped a bit in disbelief. This was only the beginning…

Pinterest moodboard to help you visualize, made by @fuckiingloser the queen herself!

Neil Lewis playlist made by me!

Part 2... (HERE) ;)

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #neil lewis #neil lewis fanfic #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives

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basicallyreigenarataka · 6 months ago

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jjk men x streamer!reader hybrid smau

╰┈➤ Collab?

chapter one

ೃ⁀➷ you start your stream with gojo, your childhood best friend who happens to be internet famous. you’re surprised to see how people react to your presence on his live.

masterlist. prev. next

you were nervous to answer the call that rung from your pc, shaking for godsake. it was not that serious, you tried telling yourself over and over in your head.

but the thing is, it IS that serious! how did gojo already have five hundred thousand viewers, the stream just started???

you joined the video call after a moments hesitation, waving shyly at the screen. no way were you having internet anxiety, was that even a thing? online-anxiety.. the dsm-5 definitely doesn’t categorize that as a disorder.

“hi,” you spoke in a much smaller voice than usual, one you use towards your professors or customers at work. gojo mustn’t have caught on to your shy and anxious behavior, considering he immediately started screaming about how excited he was to introduce you to stream and how excited he is to play with you.

his personality was overwhelming. it’s what drew you to him all the way back to when you were seven. it could be a lot at times- but it’s what made him so enjoyable to be around. if it were anybody else, it would give you a migraine.

“chat, stop acting weird.” you heard gojo say in a disgusted voice as you booted up your own stream and game, greeting all your fans and letting them know you’re streaming with gojo. they were all so excited for you! it warmed your heart, easing your anxiety. you’d just focus on your audience, not gojos almost one million- oh my god, one million?

you were going to question gojo on what was happening in his chat, worried they were making fun of you, but when you noticed he had one million viewers you almost passed out. this was terrifying.

you discreetly opened his stream chat, making small talk with gojo and your audience while you took a look at what people could possible be saying.

you were fucking shaking. this was NOT that serious- but you had such bad self consciousness, you just had to see what they were saying… were they calling you ugly? weird? oh no- where his diehard fangirls mad that he was streaming with a girl-

to your surprise, all you saw were nice comments. they were all complimenting you, asking gojo why he didn’t introduce you sooner. you were shocked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you continued to read.

GOJOMARRYME: EEE SHES SO CUTE! how does she only have 50k?!? GUYS MAKE HER FAMOUS!

gojosleftnutsock: is she dating gojo? love her already, im going to live vicariously through her

gojoandgetostan68: yn can i be your lap dog

sugurugetotv ✅: why have you never introduced us, gojo?

you had to stop yourself from reading before your face went bright red. no wonder gojo called them out, some of these messages were so weird. but the majority were sweet! you were glad you had a good first impression on everyone.

however, one message in particular caught your eye. he’s verified, you recognize his name from gojo. he’s talked about geto a few times, talked about how he’s going to play games with him but it’s not the same as playing with you. gojo just said that to guilt you, though.

“yn, who are you gonna play?” gojo asked, reeling you out of your thoughts as you realized you’ve already loaded into a match.

“i’ll play cloak and dagger,” you insisted, preferring to play support over any of the other roles. “how about you?” you asked, though you received no response.

“gojoooo?” you called out, eyebrows furrowing together as he went silent, still haven’t chosen a character. you wondered if the call bugged out, but when you looked at your video chat, he was still very much there. he looked upset about something, a look of… jealousy(?) on his face. you weren’t quite sure why he looked mad.

“you okay?” you asked, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his face immediately twisted into a wide smile, “yea! my friends just being weird..” he muttered, though you could tell his tone was far from friendly. did geto make him mad? you weren’t sure, it wasn’t your place to ask so you just stayed silent.

gojo finally put his phone down, sighing as he looked at the character lineup. you were playing cloak and dagger, your teammates consisted of a solo player who chose doctor strange, while the other three were in a party and all played dps.

gojo was clearly upset this party of three stole his dps role, cursing about how a good team should have two of each role and then immediately also picking dps. well, you were totally losing this game.

toji never cared for his view count. he only streamed to play games with his friends, and get some money along with it. he was naturally successful and never cared how many viewers he had or lost.

until today.

he lost 16k viewers in the span of fifteen minutes. he thought he got cancelled for a good minute there, until his friends brought him into the loop of things.

sukuna of all people even tuned into gojos stream, what the hell? just for some random? it made no sense. sukuna and choso assured him the hype was for a reason, but until he saw you, he wouldn’t believe it.

toji scoffed, rolling his eyes when his friends finally joined his call and began naming off excuses as to why they were late to chat.

“right, just get on the game bro.” he spoke in his usual cold tone. those who don’t know him would think he was being harsh to his friends, but this was just how he spoke.

toji invited them to his party, the three of them queuing up for a match. toji was happy to see someone instalock support- cloak and dagger at that- usually nobody wanted to play healer. he was making small talk with choso when sukuna suddenly spoke up,

“chat told me we got matched with gojo and his friend.”

first chapter is up!! i’m so sorry, i know i said this would be an smau but clearly there’s more writing than pictures.. i want to do an equal amount of both but i have to add context for some things ):

tag list

@estella-novella @ourfinalisation @definetlythinkimanalien @fuckisthatahotghost @m-0ona @sillybillylamb @ayla-1605

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strwbryien · 7 months ago

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｢ ᝰ.ᐟ entry 07: COLLAB STREAM ⭑.ᐟ ｣

“Hello, guys! How are you all doing today?” you greeted your fans with a bright smile, adjusting the mic as your avatar waves at the screen.

The chat exploded with messages, colorful usernames scrolling past.

"Glad to see you're all doing well! I'm doing pretty good, too," you said with a laugh.

“Scaramouche will be joining the stream in a few minutes, so please behave and be nice, okay?” You giggled, knowing full well that chaos will be inevitable once he shows up.

chaelvskumi: what are we playing today, kumi? :D

“We’re playing Twin Realms today! It’s Hoyoverse’s newest game—super hyped about it!” Your voice practically bubbled with excitement as you adjusted the game screen on stream.

Before you could continue, a familiar voice cut through the light-hearted atmosphere.

“Are you always this loud, or is it just a special treat for me?” Scaramouche’s sarcastic tone made you freeze for a moment. He had entered the stream.

“Oh, you’re here already,” you deadpanned, turning toward his avatar on the screen—a smirking, cocky character that fits him so well.

“No shit, you let me in,” he replied flatly.

The chat erupted with lmao and omg it’s starting already as the banter kicked off.

“Shut up, Scara,” you shot back

“No thanks,” he said, the smugness in his voice palpable.

You sighed dramatically, “Chat, why did I agree to this collab again? Remind me, please.”

teapotenthusiast: Because you love us suffering.

kuniixfan: lol suffer

zuhakiss: this is a bad idea 😭

scara4ever: scara please marry me

“See? Even chat knows this was a bad idea,” you muttered, switching tabs to load the game.

Scaramouche hummed in mock agreement. “Bad idea for you, maybe. For me? Free entertainment. Watching you struggle is the highlight of my week.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that when I beat you in every realm today,” you shot back with a smirk.

“As if,” he scoffed. “Let’s see how long you last before rage-quitting.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The game loaded, its dramatic opening music filling the stream, accompanied by stunning visuals. Aether and Lumine appeared as the starter characters, standing side by side in a glowing field of starlight.

“Wah! It’s Aether and Lumine!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the screen. “They’re finally together after all that drama, huh?”

“It feels... weird,” Scaramouche replied, his tone more thoughtful than usual. “Seeing them together like this. We only ever get one twin while playing genshin.”

Chat buzzed with excitement.

onittobuto: justice for the twins!!

aetheriswife: hoyoverse finally giving us what we deserve 🗣️‼️

st4rryoi: they look so pretty!

“Well, it’s about time,” you said, cutting through the chatter. “I hope they stay together for the whole game—none of that tragic separation stuff.”

You refocused on the screen. “Hey, come here. I think we need to stand on this platform together to trigger the cutscene.”

“Tch, so demanding,” he grumbled, but his character moved begrudgingly toward yours.

“Oh, shut up and stand still,” you shot back

The two avatars stood side by side on the glowing platform. A dazzling beam of light engulfed them, and the screen began to fade, signaling the start of an cutscene.

sorayaz: are you ever gonna stream not faceless, kumi? :3

You chuckled nervously, glancing at the chat. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. I still feel a bit anxious about streaming with my face, so... yeah, I’m not sure.”

“How about you, Scara?” you asked, turning the question on him. “Are you ever gonna do a face reveal?”

“I don’t know,” he replied casually. “But I probably will at some point. Still, I don’t really care about that. They should watch me for my gameplay, not my face.”

scaraswife: ithought you’d quit streaming after showing that... face of yours 💀 how are you still going lol?

You froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. “Oh... uhm—”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Scaramouche cut in sharply, his tone colder than usual, “exit this fucking stream. You’re embarrassing me.”

The chat fell silent for a few seconds before erupting:

chaelvskumi: you tell them, scara

kumiluvr: who the hell was that? can someone ban them

beigguangsolos: LMAO THAT’S WHAT YOU GET 💀

saetoru: dw kumi, they're js insecure bc you're pretty

“Anyway,” Scaramouche continued, brushing the comment off like it never happened, “if anyone else feels the need to act stupid, save us both the time and leave now.” You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “Well, that’s one way to handle it.”

“What? I’m not wrong,” he said

prev | masterlist | next

synopsis:

IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

ꪆৎ taglist

@imnotyizhuo @kazufavor @najaemism @simonisferal @lovelypadisarah @eternallykira-143 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @yuminako @035814 @squigglewigglewoo @lxkeeeee @blvdmrcnry @wth121 @lloovvv @3lectraheart @lovemiyae @danhenglovebot @heusalettle @automaticpatroltragedy @kyon-cherri @lalalaloveallmydays @musings-of-miss-j @ilxandra @lazy-sanns @vixialuvs @bananasquash @kochothehoe @lily-lmao @shutingstar @sketcheeee @minhosprettywife @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @kinanahana @featuredtofu @tamikahoshiko @jayzioxx @kleeboomed @saechiro @shyentsmissingink @poemzcheng @rifran @projectsfantasy @yejiswifex @peachystea @vi0let-writes @sicuit @hee-jinn @6blxe @viannasthings @trulyylee

#CAMERA FLIP HEART LEAP .ᐟ #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smau #genshin impact au #genshin smau #genshin au #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche au #kunikuzushi x reader

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batmadethat · 1 year ago

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Bat & Liffy screen Sunny Park Collab with @liffika ♥

Liffy took my screenshots and created nice loading screens ♥ DO NOT reupload ♥ DOWNLOAD (sfs)

#ts4 #sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 #simblr #the sims #sims 4 loading screen #ts4 loading screen #the sims 4 cc #ts4 cc #ts4 reshade

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writeforthepeople · 3 months ago

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Smosh Summer Love Triangle part 1

Damien Haas x f!reader / Spencer Agnew x f!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Drinking, cussing

summary: MULI-PART SERIES edited from my old posts on wattpad and translated to 2nd person from 1st, so I apologise if there is any improper grammar!! You are a Sims 4 twitch streamer who watches a lot of Smosh. You were making the Smosh cast on stream and they see it, inviting you to collab. In the process a love triangle begins with you, Spencer, and Damien.

The screen is filled with the familiar loading screen of The Sims 4, your face pinned in the corner of the screen and your chat exploding with excitement over your new series.

"Ok ok, the day is finally here," you start, "Today, I will make the Smosh Cast!" You smile, it’s something you’ve been promising your viewers for a while. You’ve really grown quite the community over the last few years while streaming, and found a love for being on camera, something you never expected. You started streaming as a way to play out a lot of the storylines you were writing and to keep flexing your writing skills in between jobs.

You start to build the cast, taking suggestions from your chat and laughing along with their inside jokes. You watch a lot of Smosh and had been planning out some fun storylines for the cast members. You start with Ian and Anthony, trying hard to find a way to nail Anthony’s tattoos. You begin to tell chat about your time meeting Anthony.

"He was super nice the few times our paths have crossed. I used to do some writing for a channel under the label who must not be named," you pause, and chat knows you're talking about Defy, "but I never worked directly with Smosh," you continue, expanding on the story of how chill Anthony was and how excited you were when he and Ian were able to get Smosh back. "If you've been here a while, you know that I geeked out about the news on stream," you laugh. "It is such an amazing story if I’m honest."

You continue to build out the cast, putting up a poll to see which other members would fit in the limited Sims 8-character household. "Ok, I think we’re set. Ian, Anthony, Shayne, Courtney, Damien, Amanda, Angela, and Spencer!" you chuckle. "This is a chaotic group and I love it."

Chat floods with messages as you let the game play out a little.

"OMG, why is Ian's Sim always grilling?! 😂"

"NOT COURTNEY STARTING A FIGHT WITH DAMIEN AGAIN."

"Wait, why does Spencer look like he hasn't slept in three days??"

You laugh, shaking your head and answering a question in chat about your favorite Smosh videos.

"Listen, I only create what the Sims tell me to. If Damien and Courtney are fighting, it’s because the game WANTS CHAOS." You dramatically click your mouse. "Alright, let’s make this worse."

You lock Courtney and Damien in a tiny room together—no doors, no windows.

Chat explodes:

"Y/N NO."

"Y/N YES."

"This is why you have a god complex."

You smirk at the camera. "I don’t have a god complex—I have a 'making great content' complex."

"Y/N, you should really be writing for Smosh."

You smile big. "Well, someone let them know that, it’s the dream," you joke. "I do miss writing. It would be so cool to write game content."

And unbeknownst to you, someone at Smosh is actually watching.

Meanwhile, Spencer at Smosh has the stream up as he goes through his emails.

Spencer leans against his desk, watching your stream on his second monitor. His arms are crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

Tommy, passing by, glances at his screen. "What's this? Another one of your deep-dive YouTube spirals?" Spencer shakes his head, tilting the monitor toward him. "Nope. This girl is making Sims versions of all of us... and it’s kinda hilarious." Tommy watches for a second. "Damn, she actually nailed you. You do look sleep-deprived." Spencer rolls his eyes but can’t help but chuckle.

Your voice crackles through the speakers: "Oh no. Spencer's Sim just autonomously walked into the pool. That’s... concerning."

Chat floods with messages:

"SPENCER NO."

"ACCURATE TBH."

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused, and Tommy laughs, nudging him.

"You should DM her. She'd lose her mind if she knew you were watching."

Spencer leans back in his chair, thoughtful. "Actually... I’ve got a better idea."

Hours later, you wrap up your stream, shutting off your camera and stretching. You feel your phone buzz. You glance at it, expecting a random notification—only to freeze.

Instagram DM from @Spennser:

"Hey, Y/N. Just watched your stream. I don't think we've formally met but I know we have some mutuals from Defy. Would love to have you on Smosh Games sometime—maybe even help us write a Sims 4 Reunion sketch? Interested?"

Your brain short-circuits and your eyes widen. You stare at the screen, rereading the message a few times when another notification pops up.

Spennser has followed you.

"WHAT." You almost yell aloud to yourself.

You immediately text your friend Shannon.

"SPENCER AGNEW JUST MESSAGED ME. WHAT DO I DO."

You see the typing bubbles appear as you stare at the screen, willing your friend to answer quickly.

"I want to support this moment... but I do not know who that is."

You shake your head to yourself.

"My god woman, you call yourself my best friend? He works on the Smosh Games channel and asked me if I would be interested in coming on a guest spot!"

Shannon replied quickly:

"OH GIRL! That is so cool! Just stay calm, wait like 10 minutes and say you would be interested."

You absolutely do not wait ten minutes.

You hurriedly type back:

"Wait, WHAT?! You actually saw that? I am forever embarrassed, but yeah I’d LOVE to. That sounds amazing!!"

You hit send, then immediately panic. Thinking to yourself, "Too many exclamation points?? Should I have played it cooler?? Oh god, I’m already embarrassing myself—"

Before you can spiral further, another DM appears:

"Awesome. Let's set up a meeting next week. You're hilarious—think you’d be a great fit with the team."

You let out a strangled noise somewhere between excitement and sheer disbelief.

The next morning

You spent the entire morning overthinking how to present yourself. They said "casual," but what does that really mean? You chose to be a little more formal than normal. With a plain white t-shirt, a trendy blazer, dark jeans, and penny loafers.

You pulled into the office parking lot and texted Spencer, as he instructed you. By the time you grabbed your purse and got out of the car, he was standing near the doors smiling.

"Well, you made it. No turning back now," he smiles. "I’m Spencer," he continues.

You follow him inside, your heart still pounding from a mix of nerves and absolute excitement.

Walking into the main office space, your eyes dart around, taking everything in. You’re seeing familiar faces from the channel, posters of old sketches covered the walls. The air smells like coffee and somehow ice cream.

A few people are huddled around a whiteboard, brainstorming something that looks like pure madness, but before you can fully process it, a familiar voice calls out.

"Yo! Is that Y/N?"

Anthony Padilla is grinning from across the room.

You barely have time to register your brain that he remembered you before he’s walking over.

"Welcome to the madhouse! It’s so good to see you again," he says. You, scrambling to form coherent words: "Wow, um, thanks! I love the madhouse, but I didn’t expect you to remember me."

Anthony laughs, completely unfazed by your awkwardness.

"Of course I do! I was stoked when Spencer mentioned seeing your stream. Glad you’re here. Writing for us is a lot like playing Sims—except instead of controlling little digital people, you’re controlling all these little people," he gestures around himself.

"That sounds... perfect," you grin. Spencer leads you into the writing room, where the rest of the team is gathered.

Seated at the table:

Ian, sipping coffee like he was running on fumes.

Shayne, mid-rant about a video he had seen the night before.

Courtney, scrolling through memes while half-listening to Shayne.

Damien, leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.

The moment you walk in, Damien looks up and shoots you a grin. "Oh, a new recruit? Are you sure you’re ready for this?"

You, fighting the instant warmth in your face: "I think I can handle it."

"That’s what they all say... until Ian makes you rewrite something four times," Damien jokes, shooting a glare at Ian playfully.

Ian, deadpan: "I take creative integrity very seriously." The room laughs, instantly making you feel more at ease.

Spencer claps his hands together. "Alright, let’s get started. We’re working on a Sims 4 Reunion sketch. To that, I brought in my favorite Sims 4 content creator!" You perk up immediately, your cheeks blushing slightly.

"Oh, I have SO many ideas."

Spencer smirks. "Yeah, we figured. That’s why you’re here."

Courtney chimes in, "I LOVE the Sims, put me in coach," she jokes. "But really, I love your streams. I like to put them on while I do the dishes," she admits. You’re surprised to know so many people at Smosh already knew who you were. As they start tossing around ideas, you feel yourself relaxing into the process. Ideas are thrown like dodgeballs, some sticking, some getting immediately roasted.

You had come up with a few ideas to bring to the table.

"So the thought is that just like a lot of your other reunions, you have Chanse hosting and baiting you guys with questions to uncover the lore that is the Sims," you smile, seeing everyone listening to you. "Some of the biggest drama is about the Goth and Caliente families, so I thought that might be the best place to start, and the most people would be able to understand right away," you explain.

"PUT.ME.IN.COACH," Courtney yells again. "Sorry... I just really love the Sims," you both laugh and continue to brainstorm.

Somewhere in the madness, you realize something—you’re not just some guest here, watching. You’re contributing... and they’re listening. After the session, you linger behind, still buzzing from the energy of it all. Damien walks up, leaning on the table beside you.

"So, first day in the chaos. How’s it feel?" he asks earnestly. You smile, shaking your head. "Like I accidentally stumbled into the best gig ever."

Damien chuckles, nudging your arm. "That’s how they get you. Next thing you know, you’re part of the furniture." You share a grin, and you feel a weird little flip in your stomach.

As you’re packing up your things, Ian walks over, a casual but knowing look on his face.

"Hey, Anthony and I are grabbing food after this. You should come."

You blink. Wait. What. "Like... with you guys?" Ian smirks. "No, with the ghost that haunts the office. Yes, with us." You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah. I’d love to."

They ended up at a small, hole-in-the-wall diner a few blocks from the Smosh office—the kind of place that you might just walk past, but if you know it, you know it.

You slid into the booth across from Ian and Anthony, still feeling slightly surreal about this whole situation.

Ian flipped open a menu. "This place has the best grilled cheese in LA. Trust me."

Anthony, without looking up: "It’s just grilled cheese, dude. It’s the same everywhere."

Ian narrowed his eyes at him. "You take that back."

You snickered, already loving the dynamic. You took a second to just soak it in—sitting across from two people you had watched on YouTube since you were a teenager. Casually grabbing lunch with them like it was nothing! You forced yourself to act normal.

As you waited for your food, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Ian leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "So, I know Spencer found you through your Sims stream, but I’m curious—how’d you get into writing? I heard you were with Defy for a little while too?"

You hesitated for a split second, then let yourself be honest. "I was, yeah! I was writing for a gaming channel they had called The Escapist. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. That’s why I moved to LA."

"That’s cool. I can’t believe I never ran into you there," Ian spoke, and Anthony shook his head.

"You are the people person, and even I met you in passing a few times," he joked with Ian.

"I pretty much kept to myself. You know how they were, wanted everything to be segregated and stuff," you both nodded like you understood exactly what she meant.

"So what have you been working on since then?" Anthony asked, taking a bite of his vegan burger.

"I’ve done some freelance work here and there, mostly digital content and gaming-related projects. But... my Twitch channel really took off because of how I built stories in The Sims."

Anthony’s interest piqued. "So the storytelling is what makes people come back to your streams?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I love giving characters depth and making storylines that feel... real, even if it’s just in a game. It’s what keeps me excited about creating." You carried on, lost in the passion. "I just found myself coming up with all these stories in my head and I just started writing them down and eventually made them into Sims content. I didn’t have a channel or anything right away, so I was just doing it for fun and a friend suggested I started posting." You grinned. "The rest is history. It quickly became my main gig, which I love, but..." You trailed off. "I miss the writing and working in a team, you know?"

Ian grinned, looking at Anthony. "She’s one of us."

You snorted. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

Anthony, stirring his drink with his straw, gave you a knowing look. "You said writing was your dream. Does this project light that match again?"

The question hit harder than you expected. You blinked, caught off guard. "I mean... yeah. Honestly? Yeah."

You hesitated, then decided to just say it. "I didn’t realize how much I missed being in a creative environment until today." Ian and Anthony shared a quick glance. "Good," Ian said simply, taking a sip of his drink. "Because you bring something special to the table."

You blushed at the compliment. You nodded. "I work solo so often, I forgot what it was like to have that energy to play off of." Anthony laughed a little. "There’s no shortage of energy or ideas with the cast you were working with." You giggled. "I picked up on that pretty quickly." You admitted. "I didn’t expect the cast to have so much Sims knowledge either. Spencer really did his homework."

Anthony smirked. "Speaking of Spencer... interesting that he is the one who found you. Must be a big fan."

You, mid-sip of your water, almost choked. "Wha-no, no. I think we have mutual friends from the Defy days?" you sputtered.

Ian and Anthony both looked way too entertained.

Anthony, completely deadpan: "Oh, and he just so happened to be watching a stream you were doing that involved Smosh?"

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head.

Ian chimed in. "I don’t knoooow," he started. "If anyone is a fan, it is Damien." His comment caused Anthony to snort. "Ok, so you caught that too. I wasn’t just going to call him out like that in front of Y/N."

"Damien is just flirty with everyone, and Spencer is just—Spencer. He’s nice."

Anthony raised a brow. "Right. And I’m a nun."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Oh my god. I cannot believe we’re talking about this." Ian smirked. "Just saying. Pay attention. You might be surprised." You shook your head, still refusing to acknowledge what they were implying.

"Let’s change the subject before I throw myself into traffic."

As the check arrived, Ian pulled out his phone. "We should make a group chat. Now that you’ve survived lunch with us, it’s official."

You raised an eyebrow. "Officially... what?" Anthony smirked. "You’re officially not a weirdo. Congrats." You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. Ian quickly added you to a new chat:

Group Chat Created: 'Chaos Committee'

Ian: Welcome to the dumbest group chat you’ll ever be in.

Anthony: If you mute us, we’ll know.

You: I regret this already.

Ian: No, you don’t.

As they stood to leave, Ian clapped you on the back. "We hope we’ll get to work with you more in the future." You felt a small spark of excitement in your chest. "Me too."

#smosh fanfiction #damien haas x reader #smosh fanfic #spencer agnew x reader

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