#I thought he was pretty good material...but then...

[flofaiiry]

can’t stop thinking about #10 prompt — “spread your legs wider” with charlie reid!! 🤯 imagining being his cute little housewife who brings him lunch in a cute little dress and makes the whole office turn their heads🫣 and of course he notices everyone looking…so you inevitably end up bent over his desk and at one point he tells you to spread em’ wider but when you decide to tease a little and not listen, he just takes matters into his own hands and kicks your feet apart himself🤭 (am i the only one who’s a sucker for when someone kicks your feet apart while you’re bent over something?)

tbh ive never even thought of that but oh lawd now it has infiltrated my mind!!!! (I split up the prompt I hope u don’t mind!!! just thought it flowed better 😁)

---

being bent over charlie’s desk isn’t new for you- but him doing it while there are still people in the office is. normally he preferred an empty building, that way he could really have his way with you, make you scream his name and cum so many times he has to practically carry you back to the car cause your legs won’t stop shaking. but having people around is a new kind of excitement, the idea that someone could walk in at any moment. you had a feeling you were in for it when you stopped for a little too long to talk to a young officers that complimented your dress- you could feel his stare through the window to his office. he didn’t greet you when you walked in, just sat back in his chair and told you to close the blinds and shut the door. “c’mere,” he mumbles, beckoning you over to stand between him and the desk. you hesitate, but walk over anyways. he pulls you down and catches your lips in a greedy kiss, tongue exploring your mouth like it’s uncharted territory. he pulls away after a moment, leaving you breathless, and trails his hand down your body, sliding across the material of your dress. “turn around,” he says simply, fingers fiddling with the hem that sits at the middle of your thigh. you raise your eyebrows a little, “now? there’s people-” you start, but he cuts you off. “turn. around.” he says again, this time definitive. you shove down any moral reservations you may have, and turn around. “spread your legs,” he says- just as slow, just as definitive. you take a deep breath before leaning forward so your body’s tilted over the desk & stepping your legs apart. “wider,” he adds, clearly not satisfied. “charlie-” you begin, but instead of his voice cutting you off, you feel the leather material of his boot kicking just hard enough at your inner ankle to coax your legs further apart. “that’s better,” he says, standing up behind you. “you think you can come here lookin’ all pretty & start flirting with my officers?” you shake your head, “i wasn’t flirting, charlie. he told me i look nice 'n i said thank you." he scoffs. one more second passes before you feel his hand crack down on your ass. you shoot one of your hands to the desk, trying to steady yourself as the force lurches you forward, biting your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape. "you're mine, you know that?" you nod quickly. "say it," he adds, voice stern, "say you're mine." your voice comes out meeker than you intend, "yours. 'm yours, charlie." he nods, though you can't see it, you know he is. "good," he says, stroking up and down your thigh before tugging at your dress to turn you back around to look at him. once your facing him, he pulls you against him by your waist pressing his lips against yours once more. "go home," he whispers when he pulls away, "wait for me, i'll make sure you know who you belong to when i get back."

[avaaawritesss]

tailfishing • chapter three

hopeless | neighbor!anakin x fem!reader

chapter description • anakin throws rocks at your window just to ask you if you want to go for a drive. against your better judgement, you agree, and suddenly, things take a serious turn.

chapter warnings • classism, foul language, smoking, mentions of sexuality, making out, body insecurities

table of contents | chapter 4 coming soon

A/N: for the record, im from a very low income area like anakin in this fic. which kinda inspired his backstory.

Clank.

You lift your head off the pillow and look around your silent bedroom. Everything appears exactly as you had left it. If not for the moonlight streaming through the window, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing, not yourself in the vanity mirror or the pile of clothes at the foot of your mattress.

You throw your head back and settle under the covers. The sound probably came from a dream you had already forgotten.

As soon as you close your eyes to summon sleep, you hear it again.

Then again.

The sound is coming from the window.

You hope it’s not a bluebird again. A couple summers ago a little bird kept flying into your window.

Kneeling on your window seat, you inspect the glass. You flinch as something hits the window. It’s too small to be a bird. It almost looked like a... rock?

That’s when you see Anakin standing in the lawn. He’s looking up at your window, probably waiting for you to notice him.

You haven’t seen him in almost a week.

What you should do is ignore him and go back to bed. Avoid trouble especially when it comes in the form of a cute boy. However, you should know that’s never what you’ve done. Not once in your entire life. There’s something about Anakin that makes you want to do things you probably shouldn’t.

So, you turn on your lamp, sending him the signal that you are, in fact, awake. You wave at him. He smiles bright as soon as he sees you and motions for you to come down. You dance around your room trying to think of what to wear. You turn to the foot of her bed and throw the clothes around. You end up picking out a white camisole with lace at the top and a random pair of black leggings then rushes out the house.

“What are you doing out here? It’s,” you tap your phone screen, “ten fifty.”

He’s staring at your body. Did he hear you?

“Anakin!”

He shakes out of whatever trance he was in and refocuses on your face, where his eyes should be. “Sorry. Y-you look really good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, realizing that you should have probably worn a jacket. “Thank you,” you say in a whisper. “It’s been a while.”

Frowning, he nods. “Yeah, I was busy with work a-and wasn’t sure if you would want to see me.”

“I want to see you.”

He looks up at you. “Really?”

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me anymore.”

Anakin laughs dryly and digs his boot into the ground. “I was just getting in my head about the other day.”

“Why?” you search his expression for something that might hint at his reasoning, why he would pretty much ghost you after they kissed? And it was a good kiss.

“I think—thought I probably scared you off. People tell me I’m too intense about things,” he pulls you closer by your fingertips, “and when I want something, there’s nothing else I can think about.”

“You want me?”

His nod is hesitant. “From the moment I saw you.”

Dumbfounded, you freeze in front of him, not sure how to respond. You barely know each other. How can he be so certain? Just based on appearance alone... you hardly match.

“Sorry,” he says under his breath. “I didn’t have your number, but I was going for a drive and wanted to know if you’d like to go.”

“Don’t drive too fast.”

You watch his expression morph into pure joy, knowing that this is something you want too. The sweet look on his face. reminds you how young he really is. This whole situation makes you feel like you’re back in high school. Not that anyone has ever thrown rocks at your window.

“Here.” He offers you his black leather jacket. The material is faded and wrinkled like he actually uses it all the time.

“I’m okay, really.”

“I’m not. How am I supposed to focus when you—” He waves his hands. “Never mind. I’ll deal.”

His car is already rumbling in his driveway. He opens the passenger door for you and shuts it cautiously once you’re seated.

He trots around the front and joins you inside. Anakin doesn’t touch his seatbelt. Opening the console, he reaches inside. A cigarette now balances between his fingers. He must always keep a lighter in his pocket. You firmly stare him down as he clicks the lighter.

Maybe he notices the disappointment on your face, but his eyes widen as realization hits him.

“Sorry, I—I wasn’t thinking. It’s a habit.”

Smoking isn’t something that you could ever condone. You’ve seen what it does to people. How cancer can affect the mouth and throat. What it can take from its victims.

“You are going to have to quit, Anakin, if—”

“I know.” He stuffs the unlit cigarette in the pocket of his jacket. “And I will. I want to be good enough for you.” There’s shame in his voice and in his eyes.

Maybe... you shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, but your family would never approve of him if he were a smoker. The more time that you spend with him, the less you care what they think.

“I’m sorry,” you say, as they still sit in the driveway. “It’s not my business.”

“I want it to be,” he says softly. He stretches his arm across the back of your seat and shifts his body so that he can see out the back window while reversing. In a single motion, he turns onto the street. “Hold on.”

“Anakin, this—”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he accelerates and grab onto his arm, digging your nails into old leather. You lost your stomach a couple hundred feet back. He’s laughing at you.

“I told you not to do that, Anakin!” you scold. Your guts finally caught up with the car, and you felt stable again. You resituate in the seat.

Anakin drives with his left hand on top of the steering wheel. His right-hand rests on the clutch as he shifts through the gears. His hands are large and veiny. His fingers are covered in scabby cuts probably from his work at the junkyard.

You wiggle your hand under his and sink your fingers between his. He eyes you for a second and smiles.

He hums, fully surrendering himself to your lips. Your cold hands slide under his shirt. You smile on his mouth when you find the piercing on his navel. You continue sliding your palms up his body. Of course, it feels good. It feels fucking incredible, but he’s been slacking in the gym and is softer than he’d like to be.

Anakin suddenly breaks from you and tries to pull his shirt back down. Your eyes are inspecting him carefully. Your cheeks are splashed with pink, and your lips are raw and wet.

“You okay?” you keep your hands on the console. You sit in his car as you wait on your Sonic order.

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m great.” Anakin knows he messed up. He shouldn’t have backed out because you’re probably going to think something is wrong. And he really didn’t want to explain why he had that reaction. Guys weren’t supposed to be so insecure about stuff like that.

“You—you pushed me away,” you whisper. “Which is fine. But did I do something wrong?”

“No. No!” his voice cracks. Great. He doesn’t want your pity, but you’re asking what happened. He can’t think of any reasonable lies. He doesn’t want you to think you’re the problem. Because you’re not. You’re perfect. He’s the one that’s fucked up.

Tenderly, you stroke the side of his cheek. “Something happened. I need to know so I don’t do it again.”

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might cry. You’re being too sweet. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Do you not like me touching your stomach?” You run your hand through his hair again. He loves it when you do that. He closes his eyes and seals in any potential tears.

“I—I don’t,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry. It’s just...I don’t feel like myself right now. I haven’t felt up to going to the gym. I feel like I’m just letting myself go.” He clenches his fist. He shouldn’t have said any of that. It’s too personal. You don’t know him that well.

You hug him by the neck. You don’t say anything. But he doesn’t let himself cry. He wants too, but he doesn’t want to look any more pathetic.

“Sorry,” he says against your hair.

You hold your face close to his. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I just got carried away.”

“It was pretty... hot. Maybe I’ll get over myself eventually,” he tries to sound humorous, but it probably doesn’t land.

“Can we kiss some more?” You peck his lips.

He nods. “Yeah.”

You all but throw yourself on him and capture his lips again. Your desperation is sexy.

He tugs on the ends of your hair, and you tremble under his touch. He’d do plenty more, but the Sonic waiter knocks on the window of his Mustang. You hug your legs to your chest in embarrassment.

“Tinted windows,” he says right before rolling his down.

“One strawberry slush and one Oreo blast.”

“That’s right.” Anakin gives him a cash tip and takes the drinks. He hands you your ice cream and sets his in the cupholder.

You haven’t even touched yours yet. “Can I try?” You point at his cup.

“I’d never tell you no.”

You smile before leaning over to fit the red straw between your lips. He turns his head the opposite way. Did you—was that on purpose? Are you trying to make him think about—

“It’s so good.”

Anakin is relieved to see you sitting upright. “You can have it if you want.”

“No,” you eat a bite of your ice cream. “The Oreo blast is my favorite.”

He drives around town a for a while. He plays his favorite Sleep Token songs for you. You surprisingly don’t hate his music.

He drives out onto the interstate and accelerates as fast as he can, hitting one hundred pretty easily. There’s no one on the road this late. You seem a little more at ease in his car now. He hopes you’ll like it as much as he does one day.

This interstate is the one he takes to get home. At first, he was just wanting to get on to go faster and show off. But now he’s thinking he wants to share this part of him with you. This could be a horrible mistake. You might reject him, seeing where he and his mom had lived all their lives. But if you don’t accept where he came from, that means you could never love him the way he needs to be loved.

“Would you want to see where I grew up?” He slows down some. “It’s about fifteen minutes away from here.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

He laughs a little. “Is it too soon for that?”

“No! No, that’s not what I was saying. I’m just shocked that you would want to. I feel like we’re just getting to know each other.”

Anakin shrugs. “I mean yeah, but I think... before we get too serious... if that’s even something you would want—you should probably understand my life before Sheev came into the picture. I didn’t grow up rich.”

“I’d love to see your home,” you say, giving his arm a squeeze.

This could be the reason he falls for you for real.

Or it could be the end.

Either way, he’d really like a cigarette.

You know Anakin didn’t come from much. At least, that was what your parents relayed to you after they met the Palpatines for the first time. You have lived in the Hills since you were five years old. You went to private school for elementary and high school. College was the first time you experienced real life apart from the upper-class life you had known from the moment you were born. But when Anakin told you that he didn’t come from a good neighborhood, you pictured slightly rundown homes with gravel driveways.

Not a trailer park.

Anakin very slowly drives down a dirt road with trailer homes. Now you understand why he feels like he doesn’t belong in the new place. The two are hardly comparable. At the end of the street is a white mobile home with a metal roof. Anakin parks the car and turns the engine off.

“So... this is my home. The one I was raised in at least,” he says. His voice is a little shaky.

You don’t know at all what to say. Their backgrounds are more different than you had first assumed.

“We still own it, but I know Sheev wants to sell it soon,” Anakin admits bitterly.

You stare at the cloudy windows of the trailer. You feel... ashamed about all the silly things you’ve ever complained about growing up. This place can hardly be called a home, especially for a child.

His cool knuckles rub the side of your arm. “Uh... you’re being quiet.”

You thoughtfully turn to Anakin as you still sit in the car. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes drop, and the air feels cold. “I understand if—if this is a dealbreaker. I know you come from—”

You hold up a hand. “No. That’s not why. I’m just really sorry that this is where you grew up as a child. It must have been... hard.”

Anakin crosses his arms. He’s not looking at you, and that bothers you. You wonder what he was hoping you would say about his home. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all. This second date—if it can even be called one—hasn’t been turning out well for you. You’ve made things weird again, but you don’t know how to fix it. You’re starting to hate when he gets quiet like this.

“Anakin, I—”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I have nothing but good memories. All of my neighbors are good people. They just don’t have much. But I don’t need a fancy house and brand-new cars to enjoy my life. That piece of shit—” he points to his childhood home, “was just fine.”

“I—I didn’t mean to offend you.” You shift to the passenger door. His tone cut through you although he probably didn’t mean to. His reaction was understandable. You had pretty much told him that you looked down on his former living situation. You hadn’t intended for your comment to come out that way.

“If it weren’t for my mom getting married, this is where I would still be.” The way Anakin laughs is cold and dark. “You wouldn’t have given me a chance.”

“Anakin—”

“And I wouldn’t blame you.” He rests his hand over yours as it rests in your lap. “Hey.” His tone is strikingly gentle.

His rainy eyes are waiting for yours. You stare at him for a moment, taking it all in. His gorgeous face and his sweet smile.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” you whisper, so captivated by him.

“Yeah, but you did.” He pulls your arm over to his lap and sandwiches your hand between his. You love how rough his hands are, no doubt because of whatever he does at the junkyard.

“I still like you.”

He stills for a moment, probably processing your stupid words, before rubbing your hand again. “Really?”

“You thought—” you swallow the lump in your throat. Oh. He thought you wouldn’t want to be with him because he came from a trailer park. Did he really think so little of you?

“I would understand. I might not like it, but trust me, I know the kind of guys you should be with, and they don’t look like me,” he says that very seriously, not seeking sympathy.

You pat his face, a faux slap. “Don’t tell me who I should be with. I really like you, Anakin.”

His grin peaks out like sunshine from the shadow looming over face. “I really like your lips, and I want them all over me.”

Shyly, you laugh and roll your eyes, but he doesn’t laugh. He stares, eyes dialed in on your mouth. Oh, he meant it.

Like now.

“You know it sucks you took the backseat out,” you say, a teasing edge in your tone.

He shakes his head. “Not funny. That’s really not funny.”

You tug on his hair, leaning in. “But I’m not sure there would be enough room...”

He bites his lip and huffs. “Stop it. That’s not fair.”

“What?” You wiggle your hand free and set it on his thigh. “Stop what?”

Anakin grabs your wrist. His grip is too hard. It hurts. “Not in my car.”

You scoff. “You’ve never brought a girl in here? I don’t believe you.”

“Not you. Not in a shitty trailer park.” He pushes you back into your seat, too strong for you to beat. “I want it to be perfect.”

“That sounds like a lot of... pressure.” You hadn’t intended to initiate the sex talk so early into whatever... this is. But you’ve probably made out about five times tonight so far. Eventually, it was going to come up.

“No—I didn’t mean it like that. I just want it to be nice if we ever...” he smiles, “the back of a car isn’t what I have in mind.”

Through his mirrors, Anakin watches Rex steer into the driveway next door.

You both are taking a break and sitting listening to music. You’re scrolling. He’s been watching your every move. He breathes in every detail. It’s impossible to get enough of you. He thinks about you every moment of everyday. From the moment he wakes up. To the moment his head touches his pillow.

Sometimes even in his dreams.

Anakin taps you on the shoulder. “Would you want to meet a friend of mine? He just got back from work.”

You turn your phone off. “Definitely.”

Anakin shuts the car off. “Rex has been my best friend since I was five. We learned how to work on cars together. It’s been really weird not having him around.”

“I’d love to meet him, and I can imagine that is a huge change.” Your hand rests on the door handle.

“Can I get that for you?”

You duck your head as a soft smile warms your face, and you give him a little nod.

Anakin walks around the front of the car and opens the door for you. Taking his hand, you rise gracefully from the seat. “You look amazing.” He realizes that complement came out of nowhere. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “Sorry.”

“You’re so sweet.” You squeeze his hand.

He doesn’t let go as you walk over to Rex’s trailer. Standing on the porch, Anakin gives a firm knock. A few moments later, his friend swings the door open.

“Sky!”

Rex’s hug is more like a body slam. He seems to forget how much larger he is than everyone else. Not everyone was a quarterback in high school.

Anakin pats him on the back. “Rex, I want you to meet someone.” Rex backs away and freezes. “This is y/n.”

“So, this is the girl you’ve been telling me about.” Rex’s eyes scan over you. “I can see why he’s so obsessed with you.”

Anakin clears his throat and shoots Rex a glare, silently telling him I’m gonna kill you later.

You give Anakin a puzzled look.

“Don’t worry about him,” Anakin assures you. “Rex, aren’t you going to let us in.”

Rex has the stupidest smile on his face. It’s hard not to slap it right off him. This might have been a terrible idea. He didn’t go over with Rex what he was allowed to say in front of you. Most of all, he regrets telling Rex every detail he remembered about you and every fantasy he had about you.

He had to tell someone.... It’s not like he could act on his feelings yet.

Rex’s trailer is surprisingly not a dump, for once. Usually, his furniture is swallowed up in dirty laundry and takeout boxes and beer bottles.

“Did you have someone over?” Anakin inquires, still looking around.

Rex suddenly blushed. “Ahsoka came by. That’s all.”

When was the last time he called her by her name and not Snips? Surely, they were just friends. Surely, they weren’t—Anakin wrinkles his nose at the thought of them... together.

“Do you have a bathroom I could use?” you ask.

“I’ll show you,” Anakin says, taking you by the hand.

When you and he are on the other side of the trailer, he whispers, “Sorry about him. He has no filter whatsoever.”

You lean against the wall. You look up at him coyly. “Is that true?” You twirl a piece of your hair between your fingers.

Anakin faces you with his back so you can’t see the heat on his face. “Don’t believe what he says about anything. He likes to exaggerate.”

“So... you’re not obsessed with me.” Disappointment marks your tone.

He peers at you over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t th-that be weird.”

“No, I’d like it,” you say, turning the knob and finally going into the bathroom.

Anakin doesn’t linger by the door. He doesn’t want you to think he’s listening. That would be creepy even for him.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Rex asks him point blank.

“Huh?” Anakin sits on the creaky leather couch.

“She’s really beautiful and everything, but c’mon, man. You’re not being realistic. She’s not gonna stay with you.”

He drops his head as he nods. “Probably not.”

“She’s probably just messing around with you. What in the world would someone that comes from money and could just about have anyone she wanted... want with someone like you? Like us.” Rex chuckles. “Just get her out of your system and,” Rex plops down beside him, “get out before you...”

“It’s too late.” Anakin crosses his arms over his lap and rests his head there. “I’m hopeless. I don’t even care about sex right now. I just want to spend every waking moment with her. I—I can’t explain it really.”

“Like I said. Obsessed.” Rex shakes his head. “But I’ll scrape you off the ground after she chews you up and spits you out.”

Anakin sighs low. “I didn’t ask to feel like this. She’s just perfect.”

Rex hits his shoulder. “I’ve never heard you talk like this about anyone before.”

“I’ve never felt like this before.”

Rex doesn’t have time to react to his confession. They both sit up straight at the creaking sound of the bathroom door opening. Anakin stands up when you enter the living room. He’s really not sure why he does that. You slip your arm around his waist.

“Oh!” Rex’s eyes light up momentarily. “Ahsoka mentioned that everyone’s meeting down at the lake tomorrow night.”

“No one told me anything.” Not a single text. Not even from Obi-Wan. Ever since he moved away, it hasn’t been the same. He doesn’t get what’s changed. He tries to tell himself that it’s because he lives on the other side of town now, but he knows that’s not it.

“They probably... just forgot.”

“Right,” Anakin pretends to accept that sentiment. They both know better.

“Did you want to go?” Rex asks.

He thinks it over for a moment. If they don’t want to hang out with him anymore, why would he go? He doesn’t have to prove himself to their friends. “I guess.”

“You can bring her. I’m sure everyone would like to meet your girl.”

Anakin shoots him another death glare. He’s lucky he stopped there. He hadn’t asked you what you and he were yet. Being needy isn’t how he wants to be perceived. Even if he is. “I don’t think that nasty lake is her scene.”

“I’d love to go and meet your friends.” you narrow your eyes at him, probably wondering why he just said that. “I don’t mind getting dirty.”

Rex put a hand on his hip, staring at you incredulously. “Oh really. Have you ever swam in a lake?”

“It’s more of a creek,” Anakin corrects with a snort.

“My family has a house on the lake, and we go there for vacation.”

Rex stills for a moment. “A whole second house?”

“Sorry,” you say, guilt creeping in. He can see it on your face.

“No, no,” Rex says, waving a hand. “I’m just surprised is all. That sounds like you’re living the life.”

You tilt your head back and reaches up to squeeze Anakin’s jaw. “I am now.”

He hates how he looks when he smiles big. It usually feels awkward, but he can’t help it when you’re looking at him with those I want you eyes. If Rex wasn’t in the room, he’d be taking off your clothes.

Instead, he pinches your side. “Stop it.”

“Okay, I’m going to go in my room now,” Rex says as he’s walking off. “I’ll see you both tomorrow. You can use the couch.” He glances at them and winces. “Try to keep it down.”

“Rex! I’m taking her home.” Anakin sighs. “Sorry about him. He’s a freak.”

original au by @avaaawritesss feel free to use my work as inspiration (no direct plagiarism please :/) and tag me!! id love to read ur works too

this idea was originally written for anidala. click here if you are interested in the original version!!

comment 🖤 ⛓️ down below if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic

taglist:

@user-3113s-blog @tinytacosfromjackinthebox @anonyg @wizzerreblogs @k-n-e @krissophia @izuoyarmin @5secondsofmoxley

dividers

[b3ach-bunn7]

27 DRESSES (4/6)

You try not to lose your mind while planning your sisters wedding to the man you're in love with. All the while, a certain blonde haired reporter can't seem to leave you alone

noquirklau, movie turned fanfic,

NSFW this chapter!

—————————————————————————

You’re going to tell Togata everything.

When you’d gotten home from your little registry outing with Keigo, you’d sat distracted in front of your TV, the Friends episodes running in background forgotten as you became lost in your thoughts.

It’s just not right. Ignore your crush on him, ignore all your feelings, it’s just not fair. Togata has no idea who he's marrying, seeing as Tess is lying about almost every single thing about her. Her lifestyle, her interests. He may as well be marrying a stranger. And Togata is a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be lied to like this, even if Tess really does love him. Even if she is your younger sister. It only feels right to tell him the truth.

Luckily for you, the perfect opportunity arises two days later. Tess is out doing last minute shopping with some friends, and so Togata calls and asks you to help him taste test the wedding meals. 

The place is nice. It’s pretty empty for a Thursday afternoon, but you don’t mind the silence. It’s just you and him, sat opposite each other. You’re wearing a flowery summer dress, the material loose and smooth against your skin. You’d also shaved your legs. Not that anyone would see them, but maybe you just did it for yourself. 

You brush a lock of hair behind your ear as Togata beams at you.

“Thank you so much for coming. Especially on such short notice.” He pats your hand and your face heats.

“No problem! I’m a foodie, so it’s probably better I’m here anyway.”

If by foodie, you mean that you know every takeaway down your street by name, then yes. You are a foodie. A very adept one at that.

The meals are brought one by one. It’s fun, actually. Things like this are usually the parts of a wedding that you miss. You’re both seated by the big glass windows, your back heating from the sunlight shining through.

“So… how's everything been going? With the wedding?” You ask, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket in front of you.

“Oh, great. Just great,” Togata says. “I assume you know, though. You’ve been such a good help. Tess is so lucky to have you as a sister.”

His words send a little bolt of guilt in you. But maybe the fact you’re such a good sister is why you have to tell him the truth.

“It’s nothing, really. It’s what I do.”

“You do it well!” He takes a bite of the curry in front of him. 

“You feeling nervous?” You say.

Togata makes a face. “A little. I’m more excited than anything else. Tess is just…”

He sighs happily. “The thing I like about her is that there’s just no bullshit.”

“Right.”

“She’s not afraid to be herself.”

You wince a little. Togata, ever attentive, notices.

“You alright?”

You pause for a moment, brushing the crumbs off your fingers. “There’s something I want to say.”

You sit up a bit in your chair. Togata is starting to look a bit nervous.

“I just…”

He looks at you expectantly. And you just don’t have the heart to tell him, not with those big eyes blinking up at you. And maybe it isn’t your place. Maybe you should just stay out of it.

“I’m just so happy for you. That you’ve found what you’re looking for.” 

He visibly relaxes. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You smile, if a little weakly. You don’t think he notices. He’s too engrossed in the quiche he’s taking big mouthfuls of. He looks up at you suddenly, pointing at you with his fork.

“You’ve been to a lot of weddings, right?”

You nod. “Twenty seven as a bridesmaid.”

“What’s your favourite part?”

You don’t hesitate to answer, because it’s a question you’ve been asked a hundred times, and one you’ve thought about often. That moment, right when the bride makes her big entrance, is always your favourite. But it’s not her that you look. Or her guests or the decorations, or anything else in the hall. No, you always turn back and look at the groom. And that look of his face of pure love, every single time, is unbeatable.

Togata smiles softly at your words. “So, when you get married, I have full permission to look at the groom?”

You laugh. “Please do. Make sure the poor sucker is still standing there.”

Togata makes a face. His hand comes up to cover yours again. It’s a friendly gesture, obviously, but your heart still flutters a little in your chest.

“Don’t say that. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You brush him off, laughing like a schoolgirl.

“Aw, you-“

Togata’s face squints a little behind you. You turn to see what he’s looking at and find Keigo standing a little way away, eyeing the two of you. His gaze darts down to Togata’s hand over yours, and you snatch it back quickly, embarrassed suddenly.

“Keigo?”  Togata questions.

Keigo’s eyes drift from you to send Togata a smile. 

“Hey.” He points at the empty plates in between you two. “Are you guys... picking the wedding meal?”

You bristle a little at his tone, incredulous and judging. You nod, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Yes.” You say.

“Where’s Tess?”

“She’s getting her hair done, she- I’m just helping out.” You stammer a little under Keigo’s watchful gaze.

LHe’s fixing you with a look, like he’s just figured something out, and you feel a little squirrely. For maybe the first time since you’ve met, he looks annoyed, disappointed, something completely different from the laidback expression he always seems to have on his face. You’re not exactly sure what his problem is. It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. Just helping your sister out. It’s what any good maid of honour would do.

“We’re leaving soon, anyway,” You say quickly,

“We have some stuff to pick up from Rhinebeck.” 

Togata's eyes widen a bit, and he checks his phone. “Yeah, we’d better get going. I have dinner with Tess and my parents right after.”

You grab your purse, rattling around it for some gum, when Keigo suddenly speaks up.

“Why don’t I just go with you?”

Your head whips toward him. He’s looking at you expectantly.

“What? No, don’t worry, it’s okay.” You smile, a little bite behind it.

“I have my dad’s Volvo, that thing books. You’ll be back in no time.” You reassure Togata, but Keigo steps forward.

It seems this idea is now stuck in his head, because he claps Togata’s shoulder, and beams at him.

“I really don’t mind, man, seriously. I have a couple more questions for Y/N, anyway. For the article.”

Your jaw clenches. This damn article that he’s been writing for what feels like the whole year. 

“That I’d be happy to answer over text. Or email.”

Apparently you seem to have disappeared, because the two men in front of you are suddenly shaking hands. “That’d be incredible, Keigo, thank you.”

Things just don’t seem to ever go your way recently. Of course, it’s not like you think Togata is going to magically fall in love with you and call off the engagement if you pick up linens with him, but you like spending time with him. Outside work, you can get to know him better, as someone other than just your boss.

Instead, you’re stuck with Keigo. The walk to the car is silent. You snatch your keys out of your purse and may or may swerve out the parking space harder than you need to. To Keigo’s credit, he waits until you’re on the highway and forced to stay with him to start his tirade.

“You know, it was just like a lightbulb going off. Seeing you mooning over him-“

You frown. “I wasn’t mooning over him!”

He scoffs, sitting up slightly in the passenger seat of your car. “Uh, yeah, you were.”

The rain crashes against the car, the cold creeping in from the cracks and sinking into your skin. The roads are empty, because only you would be stupid enough not to check the weather forecast before driving as far as you had to. As bright as the day had been it’s turned sour, and the rain outside perfectly fits the sour mood you’re both in. You don’t even know how it could get so bad so quickly, the sun from earlier gone as the skies darken. A crack of thunder sounds overhead but you’re way too pissed off to worry about any of that.

Keigo shakes his head. “I knew you were lying when you told me what you were upset about at the bar. I mean, of course you would be upset. You’re stuck in this sick love triangle with your boss and your sister.”

You try and get a word in but he just barrels on. You haven't ever seen him this passionate, let alone over something that has entirely nothing to do with him.

“You’re literally one white, handwritten invite away from blowing your brains out.”

Your fingers tighten against the wheel. “That is ridiculous, Keigo, I-

“And you won’t tell him,” He laughs, but it's mirthless, more mocking than anything else, “Because you're nice Y/N, sweet Y/N.”

The windscreen wipers shake with the sheer effort its taking to clear the glass from the constant pour of rain. A little nagging voice in the back of your head tells you it would probably make more sense to pull over, since driving in this is definitely dangerous, but you need to get the stupid linen and then get Keigo home so you never have to speak to him again.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You snap. “It’s my boss, my sister. I am thrilled to be planning their wedding. But you can’t understand that.”

You turn a corner a little too aggressively, relishing in the way Keigo knocks into the door a little.

“Because you’re mean-”

“Wow.”

“And dark and cynical. And that’s your problem, pal, not mine.”

Keigo splutters, “Pal? You’re calling me pal?”

Your face heats, embarrassed. “Just shut up.”

The car is too small. He’s so close, and everytime he shuffles in his chair his arm nearly brushes yours. 

Keigo’s voice suddenly takes on a soft tone. “Hey, I understand your anger. I just ruined an afternoon of pining over someone you'll never, ever have-”

Your face burns and your chest tightens. He’s right. The worst part is he’s right but he’s just so cruel with the way he’s going on about it. He doesn’t understand, someone as unfeeling as him never would.

“Just stop!” You yell, the car surging forward a little as you press on the gas. “Stop!”

A little flash of fear crosses over Keigo’s face. His hand swipes against the window to his side, and he peers out of it. It occurs to you that driving as emotional as you are is not smart. The rain is only getting worse, the roads more slippery.

“Can you slow down? So I can read that sign?” Keigo gestures out his window.

He has a point. Your GPS is glitching, the directions no longer showing. But the fact it’s Keigo asking means you only press on the gas more.

He rolls his eyes as the car speeds past. “Okay. My spidey vision isnt working so good today. Just slow down, Y/N.”

He just won’t stop talking. And you really need him to because you need to think, and you need to focus because you can barely see anything in front of you right now. The car skids as you take another turn, and Keigo grips the armrest.

“Y/N-”

“Would you leave me alone?” You screech.

You’re sitting up now, body leaning as close to the window as you can. Keigo shoots you a look of concern and panic that you don’t see. Speeding up before might not have been the best idea, because the car is starting to move with a mind of its own, despite how hard you press the brakes.

“Crazy, slow down, or we’re gonna hydroplane.”

“We are not.” You say sternly.

You are, though. And quite suddenly, as the words barely leave you mouth before the car is sliding, spinning on its own.

“Oh my god, we’re hydroplaning. Oh my god, we’re going to die!”

Maybe you’re not the best in a moment of crisis, because all you can do is scream as the car spins. It careens off the road and your hands fumble as you try to regain control of the car. Keigo screams besides you and you both brace for impact as the car shoots off the road. 

Luckily for the two of you, America is all long, empty roads, and the one you’re on is only accompanied by long stretches of hills and grass. The car tumbles down a hill, the wheels skidding to a stop as they roll into the muddy ground. 

It’s silent, other than the two of you breathing heavily. Your knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel, and you fall forward until your head is pressing against the cool leather.

You hear Keigo move behind you and you hold up a hand in his face. “Don’t say anything.”

The car is stuck. And pretty well, at that. The wheels turn uselessly, and you press as hard as you can on the pedals but it won’t move, stuck knee deep in the muddy ground beneath. And as luck would have it, there’s also no service here. Not that anyone would risk their lives coming out to get you. The shower overhead sounds like bullets and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes at how helpless you fell.

“There was a bar, a few minutes back. We could probably use their phone.” Keigo mumbles.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet. You glance at him and he looks a little guilty, eyes looking out the window and avoiding your own. Good. This was all his fault, anyway.

You don’t say anything, just get out the car. The thin jacket you have on does nothing to protect you from the weather. It only takes a few seconds for the rain to seep into your clothes, coat your hair, the wind making your finger ache from the cold.

The bar in question doesn’t have a phone. Well it does, but you discover after putting in two quarters into the thing that it's broken. The door creaks as you push it open with a little more force than necessary. You hit with warmth almost immediately, and the smell of food and alcohol. There’s music playing quickly overhead, the tops hits and some overzealous radio host interrupting each one.

“Your pay phone is broken.” You say, dumping your purse on the bar. 

“Nice work. You’re like one of those guys on CSI.” The man behind the counter muses, wiping it down with an old rag.

Your jaw clenches. “Do you have a phone we can use?”

Keigo doesn’t try help. Instead he sits down on the bar with a heavy sigh. “Could I get a scotch, no ice, please?”

You fix him with a look. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a drink.”

“Why? We-“

He swivels in his seat so he's facing you. The rain has turned his usually bright hair dark, and it falls in heavy ringlets around his face. His cheeks are a little red from the cold, but his eyes still shine under the dim lights above you two. 

“It’s late. We’re not getting a tow and nobody is stupid enough to come get us. Just have a drink.”

It’s an olive branch. A thinly veiled apology, from the hopeful way he’s looking at you. And in all honesty, you’re tired and wet and you actually could do with a drink.

You linger a little and he groans.

“Come on. There’s nobody for you to help, just sit.”

You scowl at him. “Fine. Only one.”

The bar is busy. You assume you and Keigo aren’t the only two who got caught in the rain. It’s loud and it’s alive and it’s sort of nice after the day you’ve had. Your jacket hangs on the stool you’re sitting on. Your dress dries slowly, and you rake a hand through your hair.

One drink turns into two, into four. The alcohol sits heavily in your relatively empty stomach, and it eases the anger between the both of you. A half assed apology spills from both of you, and as quickly as you’d raged at each other, you find yourself laughing so hard you have to hold your chair to stay upright. You both down your third shot.

“Alright, the- The Keller wedding. February 2006. That column you wrote, it was beautiful. Moved me to tears.” You exclaim.

Keigo’s nose scrunches. “I don’t remember it.”

Your hand slaps the table. “How! How can you not remember it?”

“I don’t remember it.”

Your drink is finished so you help yourself to Keigo’s. It’s stronger than you thought it would be, and he grins as you wince.

You sigh as you recall the article. You remember it like you read it last night. “The brother flew in from Afghanistan. It was the anniversary of the fathers death,” you shake your head. “You can’t fake emotion like that.”

“Oh, yes you can. A good writer can.” 

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. He’s unbuttoned the first few buttons, and the sleeves curl around his arms. He’s got nice arms. He’s sort of muscular, actually. You can’t image what sort of heavy duty a writer does, so you assume he probably goes to the gym a lot. You realise you’ve been silent for too long. When your eyes dart up, Keigo has a smirk on his face that lets you know he’s definitely caught you staring.

“You aren’t that good.”

“Wow.”

You prop your chin on your hand. “There has to be something you like about weddings.”

He ponders for a moment. “Open bar.”

You shove his arm.

“Alright, alright.”  He adjusts himself so that one arm leans on the table and he’s facing you. His knees brush against yours.

“When the bride makes her big grand entrance with the doves and the music, I like to look back at the poor bastard getting married.”

Keigo’s words are negative, as always, but he’s got a soft look on his face as he speaks.

“Cause even though I think he’s an idiot for entering the last legal form of slavery, he just looks really, really happy. And for some reason-“ 

Keigo looks at you and frowns. “The hell are you looking at me like that for?” 

He looks a little embarrassed and you realise you’ve been staring at him with your mouth wide open in shock.

“Are you shitting me right now?” 

“No?”

“That’s my favourite part!” You claim and he laughs.

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. We have something in common.”

“Well, it was statistically bound to happen at some point.”

The music that’s been playing in the background becomes livelier. The bar is filling up quickly, people playing pool, nursing a beer besides you.

The straw you’ve been chewing on is almost flat, and you point it at him accusingly. “You know, I think you’re just a big softie. And this whole cynical thing is just an act.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. An act so you can seem mysterious and wounded and sexy-“

“What was that?”

You mouth snaps shut. He’s leaning a little closer.

“What?” You say, laughing a little.

“Do you think I’m sexy?”

“What?” You repeat. Alcohol makes your lips loose, and you’ve had enough shots to make you say anything.

“Do you think I’m sexy?” He asks and you scoff.

“No.”

Keigo coos. “It’s okay if you do.” His voice takes on that low drawl you know he only uses to get you all flustered.

“No, I- I think you think you’re sexy.” 

His retort is drowned out by the beginning of one of your favourite songs. You gasp, hand grabbing Keigo’s arm and shaking.

“I love this song!”

Your mother loved Elton John, and Bennie and the Jets was always her favourite. The memory of your mother always makes your heart ache, but this familiar beat has only ever been happy for you.

Keigo laughs as you bop your head next to him. “It’s a great song.” 

He hums beside you. “Hey, kids, shake it loose-“

You splutter a laugh. “Those are not the words.”

“Sorry lyric police,” he rolls his eyes, “how does it go?”

You don’t really know yourself. You don’t think anybody in the world can understand Elton John’s singing.

The alcohol has hit you hard enough that you don’t realise the volume of your voice, and instead take to shouting the lyrics as loud as you can. A few people have started to look at you but you couldn’t care any less.

“You’re gonna hear a handsome music, so the walrus sounds,” 

“Walrus sounds?” Keigo questions through laughter, and you just nod, head still bopping to the song.

Keigo joins in, just as wrong with the words as you are. But it’s fun. You don’t know the last time you’d even just gone out for drinks with someone. And Keigo is a good drinking buddy, though he seems just as bad at holding his alcohol as you, because he’s also dancing besides you like you're not in public.

“She’s got electric boobs-“

“Boobs?” He cackles.

“And mohair shoes!”

Keigo grabs the empty glass in front of him and sings into it, “You know I read it in a magazine.”

A few people standing around have started to sing along, and you jump up, pulling Keigo to his feet. You can’t remember the last time you danced, the last time you let loose. Yes, you’re probably going to be sleeping in a car tonight, but the music is getting turned up and everyone around you looks so happy you can’t find it in your to care.

You’re an awful dancer, even more so when you climb onto the bar. The bartender doesn’t say much, and the small crowd that’s gathering seems to think it’s fun . Your shoes nearly give out, and you quickly grab Keigo’s head to steady yourself.

“Woah, careful, honey.” He says, looking up at you. Your only response to that is to scream more lyrics in his face.

You’re sure you look stupid. Your hair is all knotted from the rain and wind and your dress still sticks to some parts of your body, but you’re sure everyone else in the room is just as drunk as you, and just as unbothered. You feel like you're at a concert the way everyone is screaming the lyrics up at you. You sort of like the attention all being on you for once.

When the song starts to come to a close, you gesture to Keigo to help you down. His hands circle your waist and easily lift you down. You make a little noise as he sets you on the floor, laughing breathlessly. His hands don't let go, though. They’re warm even through the material of your dress, and you own hands rest on his forearms.

“You- You’re strong.” You mumble, your smile still pressed against your face.

Keigo doesn’t say anything. He’s just looking at you, your eyes, and then your lips. Not like the fleeting times you’ve caught him doing it before. No, today, he’s shameless, and when he finally looks back up at you it’s like he’s asking for permission.

“I cried like a baby at the Keller wedding.” He confesses suddenly.

You give your reply by curling your hands into his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

His lips are soft and he tastes like the cheap alcohol you two have been drinking all night. He makes a noise and he kisses you hard and with  desperation, like he never wants to forget the feeling of your lips on his own. 

He pulls you in impossibly closer and your arms come up to circle his neck. His lips move quickly and hungrily against yours, tongue tangling against your own. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat and pull back slowly. His brows furrow in confusion. His nose knocks against yours and when you speak you’re lips are still touching his.

“The car.” You breathe out and thank god he understands what you mean, because you’re not sure you could speak anymore if you wanted to.

You fumble in your purse for your keys, the two of you giggling as he holds his jacket above your heads. It’s measly cover, and by the time you’re both crowded into the back seat you’re soaked all over again.

The cars not big but you make do with the space that you have. He pushes you back until you’re leaning against the door. It’s uncomfortable but you need him so badly that it’s immediately forgotten.

There’s no space between the two of you as he slots himself between your open legs, his kisses warm and wet and hot as he travels down the lines of your jaw, the curve of your cheek. His hand squeezes the dips of your hips and you sigh.

“I don’t do this.” You breathe, hands cupping his face as you kiss him. “I never do this.”

Keigo leans back a little, worried. “You wanna stop?”

“No.”

You’d like to blame all this on the alcohol but you’d be lying if you said Keigo wasn’t attractive. You can finally feel the lean muscle that you’re always ogling, the hard lines of his chest as your hands slide down it. He rolls his hips and you whine a little at the feeling of his bulge grinding into your core.

He grins, eyes glinting even in the dark. “You like that?”

“Come on, Keigo. Stop teasing.”

Keigo adjusts himself so he’s practically kneeling on the seat, his legs a tangled mess as he lines himself between your legs. He kisses lower, fingers biting into your skin as he crosses over the valley of your breast, inching backwards. He pulls your dress up and bunches it at your waist. Keigo presses a kiss on the soft skin of your thigh, breath warm as it ghosts over your underwear. Underwear that is soaked, and your face heats as he inches closer and closer. He stops just before he gets where you want him, teeth sucking marks wherever they can catch.

“Can I?” 

“Fuck, yes, yes Keigo, please just-“

In one swift motion, he’s pushing your underwear to the side and sliding his tongue beneath your folds. Your eyelashes flutter and you head knocks against the car door. 

His tongue flicks over your clit and Keigo eats you out like it’s all for him. Your hands grip the back of the passenger seat to brace yourself, your legs quivering as he continues his assault. And he’s loud. Groaning and mumbling praise as he hoists your leg over his shoulder to get better access

You can’t remember the last time you had sex. A boyfriend that hadn’t worked out, a one night stand. All you know is that it’s never felt this good. No man has ever cared about your pleasure this much and embarrassingly enough you’re already about to burst.

You feel a familiar coil in your gut, and you moan. “M’close.”

Keigo doesn’t respond. His cheeks are flushed and your hips rock against his face, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure. All it takes is one more suck, the sharp edges of his teeth rolling over your clit and you’re gone. You grab a handful of his hair, tensing up as he drags you through your orgasm.

He pulls back and his face is glossy with remnants of you. “So perfect, honey.”

His fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, throwing it to the side somewhere. He doesn’t even bother to take his trousers off, just push them low enough so he can pull himself out, hot and hard, sliding against your stomach. He pulls your underwear off and pushes your dress up once more.

Keigo kisses you again. Your hands are weak where they hold his shirt. “M’ gonna fuck you now. Okay? That okay, baby?”

You nod, and he’s so mean. Sliding himself over your folds, the head of his cock circling over your clit. He’s leaning over you, and your legs are all tangled together, trying not to fall off the car seat.

“Keigo-“

“What is it, honey? Come on, use your words.”

You scowl. “You’re so evil.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. The slow slide as he slips inside of you makes you whine, and you’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his body shivers as he presses deeper into you.

“Fuck, you’re so-“ he breathes out.

His hand curls around your thigh and finally he thrusts into you. Despite his overzealous preparation, the stretch burns in a way that makes your toes curl. He presses his forehead against yours, swallowing roughly.

“Feels so good. Can- Can I move?” He mumbles and you nod almost instantly, and that’s all he needs.

He rocks his hips into you, pace fast and deep. He’s long and he reaches so deep into you that you feel like he might split you open. The car fills with the sounds of moans and whimpers, the slap of his hips hitting yours. And Keigo doesn’t stop talking once.

“So good for me, so wet. Squeezing around me so hard.” 

Your fingers dig into his back, and he’s grinning into your skin. “Been waiting for you, Y/N. Waiting so long.”

The vulnerability behind his words doesn’t register because you can feel him twitching inside you, and all you can think about is how you’re already about to come once more. 

You lean your head back and Keigo takes the open invitation to lick a stripe up your neck, biting at the soft skin.

“Gonna cum again.” You cry and he coos.

“You wanna cum all over my cock? Yeah?”

You nod dumbly and it’s over for you when he drags your hips up and hits that soft spot inside you, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. You mumble broken pleas and whimpered versions of his name as you cum, walls convulsing around him.

Keigo looks so pretty as he fucks you through it, eyes glassy and cheeks red, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite place. His mouth goes slack as you squeeze around him, and he swallows roughly.

“Oh fuck-“ 

Keigo whimpers, eyes screwing shut as he finishes with one last thrust, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His hand braces him up, and his body trembles in the aftershock of his orgasm.

Having car sex is easy to think about when you’re drunk. The next morning, however, in a booth at the bar you’d been acting a fool at, is not.

You’d woken up with your dress skewed and your underwear hanging off the gearshift. Keigo had left you a message that he’d be at the bar getting a tow, and letting you make yourself presentable in peace.

Your face feels hot as the memory of last night flashes in your head. Your eyes dart around looking for Keigo. He’s sitting in a booth, infeltly studying the frayed menu in his hands. You slide into the seat in front of him, and he fixes you with an easy smile, sliding a cup of coffee in front of you.

He’s seen you naked. And drunk dancing. And you have no idea which is worse.

“Morning, sunshine.”

You smile weakly. The coffee is lukewarm but you need something to curb the massive headache you have. The rain’s all gone, and sun shines in streaks from the window beside you two.

“Tow truck is on it’s way.” 

You nod. Your fingers drum against your cup. “Look, Keigo, I just want to say that I never do that.”

“I know. You said as much yesterday.” He nods solemnly and you smile a little.

“Well. Just wanted you to know.” 

He hands you a menu, and your search for something to curb your hangover is cut off by a man coming over and clapping you on the shoulder. You jolt, and recognise him as someone from last night.

“It’s Bennie and the Jets! Man, you guys were great last night.” He grins.

Your face heats quickly at the memory, as the man sings a terrible rendition of the chorus. You laugh awkwardly, and Keigo does nothing to help, just sits back and watches everything unfold in front of him.

“Oh, thanks.” 

“I mean, wow! This place hasn’t been live that in ages.”

You wave him off, bashful. “Aw, it was the alcohol, probably.”

He just grins, still nodding. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

You probably won’t, but the man is so happy to see you that you just wave goodbye. Your face drops in your hands the second he’s gone.

“I sang Elton John last night, didn’t I?” You mumble.

Keigo rubs your arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You were only a little pitchy.”

Your mouth drops open. “Me? I recall you singing notes only dogs could hear.”

Keigo scoffs. “Yeah, right. At least I was in key.”

“Okay, liar.”

Your bickering is interrupted by the waitress. She clicks her pen. “So, what- Hey, you’re that girl.”

She’s looking right at you and you sigh a little. Apparently, you’re famous now. 

“Yes, I’m Bennie, he’s the Jets.” You joke.

The woman shakes her head, pointing her notepad at you. “No, you’re that woman from the paper.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. She disappears, to get the paper apparently, and you have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. You look at Keigo for some help, and he looks guilty. Guilty and panicked. His reaction only serves to confuse you more, then the waitress drops the newspaper in front of you. And you’re looking at yourself wearing Jenna’s bridesmaid dress on the front of the commitments section. The commitments section of a newspaper half of New York reads.

Your stomach drops and you feel your mouth dry as your eyes tear over what’s in front of you.

You read the title out loud. “Always, always, always the bridesmaid, never the bride, by Hawks.”

He winces at the seething look you fix him with. 

“What the hell is this?”

“Y/N-“

His words fall on deaf ears. Because the article is all about you. It’s plastered with pictures of you in all your bridesmaid dresses, the ones you let him take because you thought it was just fun, that he was just fun.

But there’s nothing fun about qthis. This is just insulting. 

“Are some people better suited as bridesmaids and not brides?” Your voice cracks as you read.

“Y/N, let me just-“

But you can’t read anymore, because it feels like your chest is splitting in half. Paragraph after paragraph mocking you and your love of weddings, your sister, everything. Apparently your obsession with weddings is the problem with women everywhere and you’re the number one example of that.

You can’t imagine how many people have read this. Your friends, your coworkers, your family. And worst of all, you just feel stupid. You’d opened up to this man, laughed with him. Hell, you had sex with him in the back of your dads car. Maybe he’d write an article about that next.

You thought you were friends. Maybe something more after last night. But apparently you were just a story.

You throw the newspaper in his face, grabbing your purse and storming out of the bar. He follows you quickly, calling your name uselessly as your feet crunch against the gravel on the floor.

“Y/N, I told my editor not to run it.” He explains.

You’d never seen Keigo look as pissed as he was yesterday, and you’d never seen him look as guilty as he does right now. He reaches forward to grab your hand and you pull it away like you’d been burnt.

You blink back tears and he takes a step closer.

“Nobody reads that section anyway.”

It’s a pitiful excuse that just makes you so angry. And that anger is why you slap him across the face. Which only makes you feel good for about ten seconds, before you just feel like shit all over again.

“Go to hell, Hawks.”

You turn around promptly and leave. You don’t know how the hell you’re getting home, but all you know is you need a long hot shower to wash the feeling and thought of Keigo away forever.

—————————————————————————

hello u lovely people 🩷🩷this chapter is a bit longer than the others so enjoy!! I’m really enjoying writing this but I will say the Bennie and the jets part was SOOO HARD TO WRITE?? LIKE WOW. I kinda struggled so I hope u all like it

this fic is reaching its end and I’m so sad 💔 it’s been so fun and this movie is my FAV as I think I’ve said a hundred times.. so I will be sad to see her go!!

tags: @mousedit

[magnecalliope]

#ooo these are all very fun and Id love to hear an explanation for them #I especially love Ros and Foolish's #I actually work with a machine with a hazard sign similar to Clown's and I always joke about it being kind of like a gay hand #even though its warning me that it can and will mutilate my hand

via @bigmoon-is-bigwife

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED COYOTE, and since you pointed out Ros and Foolish's specifically I'll do them first (and Clown since he got an honorable mention):

Ros as Explosive Material: After the castle I feel like this one is a little obvious, but Ros struggles with her emotions and expressing them in an appropriate, healthy way, which results in her having blow ups whenever she gets too overwhelmed and is triggered by something.

Foolish as Magnetic Field: He's a charming guy that people just can't help but be drawn too! This is not always a good thing. That's probably why there's a hazard warning for it.

Clown as Hand Injury in Press: He's dangerous in the sense that he will mutilate you, but on the Realm you have to be stupid enough to provoke him, or put your hand in the press to be mutilated. The press will be unforgiving, and so will Clown.

Aimsey as Environmental Hazard: Obviously the sculk and corruption both posed environmental hazards on the Realm, but I picked this symbol for Aimsey because of hir whole fishing obsession that came about post-death.

Bad as Oxidizing Substance: Other than looking vaguely meteor-esque, I think that Bad represents a sort of innocuous, reactive danger, and often his reactions bring harm not only to others, but himself.

Beky as Rapid Movement of Workpiece in Press Brake Machine: To be quite frank I'm still not entirely sure I understand the danger this symbol is warning against, but it seems like it's saying you can shoot your eyes out if you misuse the equipment, which I thought was fitting for someone who is always sticking her nose in other people's business looking for the latest scoop.

CPK as Debris Flow Zone: This is admitted the most vibes based symbol I picked, but CPK is generally a pretty chill guy who does indeed go with the flow. He's not the one making waves, he's just riding them.

Lukey as Corrosive Substance: I honestly just thought this one fit his scientist vibe really well.

Owen as Deep Water: He's a cunning little rat pulling others down into his schemes with him, often you don't even realize the danger until you're already too far from shore.

Pangi as Biohazard: I feel like this one is kind of self-explanatory.

Mocha as Tornado Zone: He left a trail of destruction in his wake and his impact on the server could be seen and felt long after he was gone.

Pili2 as Health Hazard: Representing the period in which the corruption began to affect Pili.

Ace as Compressed Gas: I feel like Ace represented a lot of unfulfilled plot threads and repressed feelings of Mocha and Pili2, and those thoughts and feelings finally being released and receiving closure.

Sneeg as Non-Ionizing Radiation: Looks like wifi.

Tina as Drop or Fall Hazard: I just feel like every clip I see of her is her falling off of something okay? I'm not sure she has a lot of situational awareness.

Tubbo as Electrical Hazard: It looks like lightning and made me think of the fact that he's OP'd and can literally summon lightning at will.

Water as Crocadillian: Dragon.

Zam as Tsunami Zone: Innocuous, but powerful and destructive. She's not someone to be taken lightly, even if you can't see the danger she can be until it's too late.

GlipGlorp as Jellyfish: They're probably of distant relations I would imagine.

Realm SMP if they were Hazard Symbols

Aimsey, Bad, Beky

Clown, CPK, Foolish

Lukey, Owen, Pangi

Mocha, Pili2, Ace

Ros, Sneeg, Tina

Tubbo, Water, Zam

Bonus GlipGlorp

[rorydrawsandwrites]

Looking at the pilot's gallery on the wiki. Found a screenshot of the part that completely slipped my attention on first watch (the paper inside Breadhead)

So like. His head is just hollow then. I mean about as much as a human cranium is I guess but

If someone just reached in and took it out. Would he die

[hoshigray]

gojo or geto?

nanami or choso?

toji or sukuna?

yes.

[theguywhodoesntlikemusicals]

"Leave anything you want here, Richie. Then come back and get it when you want it. It'll be easier than me driving it to you, and I'll want to see you," Paul reassured Richie. He spoke plainly enough as he usually did, but gently gave Richie's shoulder another squeeze, and went back to resting his jaw against Richie's head, knowing that the contact would reassure him. He knew Richie would like a clear explanation of his feelings more than any platitudes. Maybe that was why they got on so well? Paul smiled and rubbed his arm. "I am glad we got to catch up tonight too."

And he took Richie's comments about the movies being good first-date material seriously too. "Really?" he asked, nodding, taking in Richie's advice. It was a nice movie... and stirring with emotion. Would Emma like this one? He would have given it a good review, hypothetically. "Okay, sure." He took the advice to mind.

At the thought of him being a bad dancer, Paul chuckled and shook his head. "Yep. Can't dance a step," he replied, almost proudly to a degree. He was so sure of his lack of ability in the area, that it had almost become a badge to wear. "I can't sing either. Though-..." he paused, trying to think back. "I guess I got told I was pretty okay in church as a kid. Haven't tried since then. Wouldn't want to." At the idea that the whole town was a bad singer, Paul chuckled at the suggestion. "Where did you get that idea from?" he asked curiously. "I wouldn't say the whole town is like. The baristas at Beanies have nice voices..." It felt weird to admit that he actually thought the sound of them singing was, objectively, good. Subjectively, an awful and horrific social situation he hated to be in that was massively overwhelming, especially when the younger one started belting. But he liked Emma's voice a lot... She didn't like singing, no, of course he knew that and he would never want to force her into singing at work when she didn't want to. But when she shot a joke about the others by belting a line, or he happened to overhear her humming in the background... It was lovely.

Hearing Richie's thought about someone bullying Jerry, Paul couldn't help but snicker and burst out into laughter. "Haha! You might have a point... You know he's over 40, right? He has no excuse to act the way he does sometimes."

Shuffling up to the door, Richie adjusted a sleeve with a hand. His shoulder rolled, keeping a small duffle bag’s strap on. He’s brought a few items over, that’s what the bag was for. He’s greasy and sweaty, the typical for the young man. His hair’s sticking up more today, losing the battle to try and tame it.

A hand raised, going to knock at Paul’s front door. He then wiped the hand against a pant leg, to rid of the sweat.

— [ @overactive-sweat-glands ]

The door was quickly answered as Paul hurried to the door, not wanting to keep his nephew waiting. How long had it been since he last looked after him? Not babysat, Paul reminded himself. Richie was far too old for that now. But since his dad was going away on business for a few days, he didn't want Richie on his own for that long. While Paul was fairly sure that Richie was a smart kid who could take care of himself, he wouldn't want him to be forced into doing so. Paul wouldn't have wanted him alone for that long either way, and he was happy to have him stay. Especially considering what Ted told him about what his own little brother was dealing with at that school...

His thoughts aside, Paul quickly opened the door and smiled at the teen.

"Hi, Richie!" Paul smiled, doing his best cool relative voice, while also not sound pedantic. It was a delicate balancing act, and honestly didn't change too much from normal. But there weren't many people he put in such effort with. "Come in and set your stuff down. Ready to have some fun?"

[harrylovesmitski]

[maddisandy]

everyone has some pretty reasonable dynamics and then there's soleil and gale

[patchwork-crow-writes]

OP, I think you might be cooking with gas here. I saw how different the "Girl" in the prophecy looked to Susie and my first thought was Noelle, but... Dess makes much, MUCH more sense in this light. It's like... the prophecy was meant for Dess, but when she vanished a replacement had to be found... and Susie was just close enough to qualify.

But. That wasn't what was supposed to happen.

There's one observation I want to add to this: After Chapter 4's secret boss, Susie will ask Gerson which character from Dragon Blazers he thinks she is (remembering that Dragon Blazers is an adaptation of Lord of the Hammer, which is itself an adaptation of... the Prophecy!), and he will say "the Dragon." Now, Dragon Blazers is pretty analogous to the real-world Dragon Quest series, and the titular Dragon in those games tends to be... well... the big bad.

I think Susie was meant to be the villain, instead of Dess. They swapped roles somehow when Dess vanished and became the Roaring Knight. But we can see for ourselves that Susie isn't villain material, and subverts that mantle whenever she gets a chance - even at her worst, she NEVER follows through on her threats. She's learning to heal, and is becoming damn good at it too. She effects change on everyone around her, bringing out the best in them. Susie has SO much potential for good in her, and everyone who comes into contact with her for longer than ten seconds can see it shine from her.

...I worry how the prophecy will account for this error.

Fantastic analysis!

deltarune spoilers I wanna talk about chapter 4 below is a pretty mundane theory about the knight's identity and their role in the narrative

Just writing some unimportant stuff in this line because Tumblr sucks and sometimes doesn't care about the break anyway let's go

I'm pretty sure at this point (and thus am probably wrong) that the Knight is Dess Holiday, but also that Dess was the original girl hero in the trio that's supposed to save the world.

First thing that catches my eye is the difference between what Ralsei tells us the prophecy is like, and actually seeing the prophecy for real in the church.

In Ralsei's version, this is how the monster looks like.

This is important because this is pretty clearly Susie. It's a dinosaur-like monster that wields an axe.

This is a depiction that comes up later; in Chapter 2 we see it in Queen's Castle, as a statue Susie can steal for her bedroom. Consider that Queen does not know about these things and is just adjusting and recreating things that people look up online, and that she knows about the protagonists. By and large she's probably just copying Ralsei's notes.

However, when we go to the Dark Sanctuary, we learn a couple of interesting things--

Ralsei is not telling the whole prophecy, and is in fact paraphrasing it for pacing and length.

Save for Ralsei, those are not the original symbols of the heroes.

This is how the hero looks:

Notice that instead of showing Kris, it's showing the player, the SOUL. It's a very specific difference; Kris is the cage and is included in the text, but the implication of showing the actual SOUL instead of them makes the prophecy ring a lot different.

The second hero, however, looks like this:

It's fun that they don't even call her a monster, just a girl, which could always mean some wild shit we don't know yet, but let's focus on the symbol-- if memory serves, this is the ACT symbol. For example, you can get this symbol on Kris's battle HUD if you call for Genson in the Dark Sanctuary:

It also looks a lot like Susie's Rude Buster, but not like the Rude Buster symbol, which is a magical flame.

Either way, then we go a bit further and get to the main point I'm trying to make:

That's not Susie.

Susie doesn't wield a sword. She has never wielded a sword. She has an axe.

The axe is so Susie's weapon that it materializes no matter what she's holding. It came pre-packed with her Dark World form, it's not something she chose-- she even has dialogue about how she doesn't know why she's carrying an axe, but, hey, axes are cool.

I believe this is supposed to be Dess, Noelle's older sister, for a few reasons

She's obviously a very important character who is absent, missing in such a way that has caused hurt on every character. We're shown that she's the first one to "leave" during Tenna's flashback to how it used to be in the Dreemurr/Holiday get-togethers, and her absence is deeply felt by everyone involved whenever her name comes up.

She's described as strong, incredibly cool, and overall the kind of person who would be a hero.

In conversations, Noelle mentions that Dess would hit Kris with a wiffle bat when they would lie to her until they stopped. Obviously two different weapon types, but a bat and a sword are a lot more like each other than a sword and an axe-- at least in how you hold it!

The rest of the Hero Girl prophecy mentions she would find love-- while Susie is obviously in love with Noelle, Dess is also pretty clearly flirting or secretly dating Asriel.

That's part one of the theory, part two is that instead of becoming one of the heroes, something happened to her (which seems to have involved a sacrifice?) that made it so that instead of becoming one of the three heroes, she became the Roaring Knight instead. Evidence for the Knight being Dess (as opposed to, say, Carol) is:

The Knight has antlers, the most obvious signifier that they're a Holiday. But also, did you notice what the sword looks like when the Knight summons it?

IT LOOKS LIKE A BAT. BAM BIG REVEAL MASSIVE PAYOFF. YOU THOUGHT I WAS STRETCHING BACK THERE. YOU THOUGHT I DIDN'T HAVE A PLAN. YOU'RE ALL STUCK IN HERE WITH ME.

Anyway the Knight also:

Attacks with stars -- like Christmas stars, above Christmas trees.

The Knight is horrifying-- and Dess was really into horror movies. She's in fact the reason why Noelle is into creepy things, even if they do genuinely frighten her.

The Knight is not physical-- it can obviously turn into a ball to fly around, but more important than that, it turns into pure static when you actually attack it. Garbage noise.

It almost looks like the Knight is some kind of distortion, like a hologram.

And then, one final thing related to both of these characters that I think is what's actually missing to understand what's going on between the Dreemurrs and the Holidays:

During Chapter 3, you can play the "real version" of a game Tenna has modified to be easier and more direct. In it, you control Kris, who goes through the game world doing a No Mercy run on enemies, then on their own friends, finally ending with a dungeon run where you slaughter a lot of monsters and flowers. This eventually rewards you with the Shadow Mantle you need to defeat the Knight. (if you're not a god and can perfectly dodge everything, that is)

In one of these, you encounter a different kind of enemy that has no equivalent in any other room. There's this thing that copies your movements, in a dark chamber.

If you go into the game's files, you can actually not only find out what this is, you can also lighten up this room.

It's a black deer.

This is probably the most direct reference to the Knight being a deer in the game (even if it's just in the files), but the final piece, the thing that actually makes me lose my mind, is the fact that there is actually a variable that turns the actual model into the "monster" you fight in this room. This variable is only used here. When you walk into the room, the variable turns to true, and the deer becomes the room's enemy.

The variable's name?

Toriel turns her into a monster.

So, here's my attempt at making sense of it all:

Dess was supposed to be one of the three heroes, wielding her bat as a sword.

Asgore and Toriel have something to do with whatever happened with Dess. Whatever they did tore apart their relationship with the Holidays, and their own marriage.

Whatever happened to Dess has been weaponized and whatever's left of her has become the Roaring Knight.

Susie's reaction to the final bit of prophecy likely has to do with someone dying by the hands of the Hero Girl, which she correctly points out would never happen in their specific group.

And she's right. It wouldn't. Because she's not the hero girl.

This also means Susie's going at this hero thing completely unaided by prophecy, 100% stoked on hopes and dreams, because she's the best. You can check out a video exploring more of the deer situation here.

now i know what you're thinking

if the hero is dess, why doesn't the church mural have antlers?

and the answer

might surprise you

OH SHIT A DOG

anyway that was it go away

[bestnoncannonship]

With JoAnne Fabrics going out of business I feel it is my duty as a cosplayer, historical costumer, and general sewing gremlin to help teach y'all how not to be reliant on evil overpriced mediocre big box stores for fabric and cosplay supply, cause if I catch y'all going into Homophobia Lobby to get cosplay fabrics imma have to start throwing hands. And frankly you guys all deserve better.

- Find a neighborhood full of brown people. Probably a slightly poorer neighborhod. I know, I know, but they will have small independent fabric stores. Selection in each may vary. Hispanic and Caribbean areas will give you prints that EAT. Muslim areas will give you fabrics with amazing drapery. Indian and Southeast Asian areas will give you beading that would make the House of Worth wet with envy. (Try to avoid oldwhitelady quilting stores unless you are a knitter or are specifically trying to cosplay Kirsten Larson.) (Also ask while you're there for lunch/dinner spot recommendations. Your fabric store guy usually has a buddy with a joint nextdoor with the best *insert relevant ethnic food here* you'll ever put in your mouth.)

- DEVELOP A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OWNER OF SAID STORE. This I cannot stress enough. Abdul, my fabric guy, can and will get me whatever I want cause he knows me, knows I bring in other young people, and knows I will be back every month for more. Indie fabric stores tend to have older clients. They are anxious to see faces under 60. Just chat with whoever is in there about the kind of stuff you want and need and they will help you. This also frequently leads to discounts. I have not paid listed price for fabric in years and just walked out of Abdul's with 7~ yards of gorgeous teal satin for 10 bucks. Not a yard. Total.

- Do not be afraid of mess. The best shit comes from stores that look like a hurricane went through them. Don't try to understand the organization. (One day, 4 years into your relationship with the store, suddenly the fabric gods will reveal the knowledge to you.) Again, talk to whoever is in there about your project. They'll help.

- Give up on one stop shopping. Get your crafting supplies elsewhere. Like a small independent hardware store. There's usually an old guy in there that reminds you of an uncle who will also help you.

-Worbla and whatever other Cosplay Specific Material you're using is a fatphobic material straight from Satan's hot taint, you do not need it, and any old hardware/tractor supply dad will help you find better, more durable armor/weapon/detailing material. Don't snub your nose at paper mache and plaster of paris. Venetian Mask makers have been using it for years. Balsa wood is also your friend. Hardware store Uncles will teach you to work with both.

- Elderly people are your bffs. If you see an old person TALK TO THEM. They know how to do all kinds of shit. I know there's a hesitation around old people because of the political climate and a fear that they may be homo/trans/whatever-phobic, but hey....minds are changed by making friends. My elderly Muslim fabric supplier is an Our Flag Means Death fan because of me gushing about the teal I needed for Stede Bonnet. He wishes me happy pride now. He put bolt of rainbow in the window in June and kept it up all summer. And he'd never had a thought about queers before me.

- Don't feel limited to Craft and Fabric stores. Hardware stores are cool. They stock outdoor fabrics and umbrella and furniture covers that are very durable....my first cosplay was made out of patio furniture covers. Also upholstery stores and upholsterers have velvets and damasks and faux leather and real leather and all sorts of rich textures. Most of them will part with a few yards pretty cheap. Second hand sheets and bedspreads and curtains also make some really cool garments. A significant amount of my ren fair garb started as household goods.

- If you are forced to order fabric online, please for the love of all that is holy DO NOT BUY FROM MOOD or any other famous store. You're paying for their branding and their place on certain reality shows I will not mention. Indie is always cheaper for the quality and usually not abusing their workers.

- If the fabric/hobby/hardware/upholstery/etc store you develop a relationship with is inconveniently far from you, see if said owner is willing to take your order via phone and send it to you. You'd be surprised how accommodating people in the crafting and sewing world can be.

It all really comes down to having to form a community. I know finding multiple small stores is a lot less convenient than Joannes. But forming a relationship with a local supplier will, in the long run, yield you much better results AND put money and good back into a community near you.

(And if you're in the NYC area DM me and I'll put you in contact with Abdul. He's the absolute best and I'd do anything to help him and his business grow!!!)

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[puppiestlooserlesbian]

💔💔💔

Obvious yall didn't read shit of what I cited but the cope is funny cause "me no like site so me no read" is not an argument, if even losurdo, as in the losurdo, is some first world revisionist than it's ok I'll gladly accept that title since it doesn't mean anything to yall. His writings on western marxism describes yall pretty good tho.

Also as always proving that maoism and mao zedong thought couldn't be more distinct things. Saying that's like taken out of context or a dogmatic interpretation of the text is an amazing cope. "You see when he says all he doesn't actually mean all, he just means some and under there centrain arbitrary conditions that I made up on the spot cause it helps my argument and actually you're the dogmatic one". Funnily enough I knew maoists love the argument of it being taken out of context so I made sure to select like one or two phrases before and after the actual quote and still saying that's taken out of context too is very funny, I included the whole title to obviously include the context if you want to read it, should I like paste a whole speech for it not to be taken out of context?

Also also like 99% of this was just yall saying random shit without any sources, average maoist tbh, but that's not how you talk to people outside your echo chamber

Also also also citing the fucking Indian maoists is one of the things ever lmfao, already read that hundred page word vomit btw and citing that at me is something I fr take as an insult ahahaha. Anyway here's why these ultras specifically are cringe: they ignore the material conditions of India as a semi feudal and semi colonial country from which they think they can jump to socialism(somehow misunderstanding mao's theory enough to justify ignoring leninist theory on revolutionary stages), they're proud sectarians that isolate themselves just so they can larp red guards, this larp too is marked by a fetishized view of guerilla warfare that ignores that they don't have anything resembling mass support but how could they when their adventurism destroys schools and railways and general infrastructure that condemns the already poor people they claim to fight for to even worse conditions, they ignore parliamentary struggles like the caste or gender equality because they think it's revisionist(funny how yall say I'm like a first worlder ignoring marginalized people when this is exactly what they proudly do. Also not a first worlder lol), they reject trade unions because those too are revisionist, and so much more but I'm getting bored. If the world renowned ultras known for the fact that the only things you can learn from them is what not to do is an excellent source than for my mental health I'll choose not to engage anymore lol, maybe after my finals at uni are over tho, maybe.

Dengism is to ultras what stalinism is to liberals

[madamechrissy]

Blueberry Yum Yum - oneshot preview

Pairings - Fratboy Plug Sukuna x Nerdy stoner reader

This will be a cute ass lil smut oneshot where you fuck your plug and he gets down bad from your coochie aha, reader is a freak, Sukuna will whimper. will be smutty and explicit, preview here is just mentions of sex and weed smoking, college AU

It's HERE

"What if we like... had sex?" Sukuna starts coughing up the thick smoke of his purple haze, wondering if it's fucking laced with something as you sit there, blunt in your hand and your legs crossed, casually smoking it as if you brought up the fucking weather.

"The fuck did you say!?" He demands after he catches his breath, you inhale your blunt now, you're by far his nerdiest client, you shocked him when you asked to buy from him the first time.

You scream good girl, certified Velma from Scooby-Doo - annoying  'actually - jinkies' nerd. The two of you even hanging out was a fucking anomaly, a mathlete and a frat boy, one he didn't try to figure out. He enjoyed selling weed to you and smoking with you, hearing your stupidly intelligent thoughts, he enjoyed looking at you too. Sure you were fucking gorgeous in that soft, sweet way.

So what the fuck was this!?

"It's been a while," you murmur, handing him the blunt back now, he takes a huge rip, coughing again as you speak. "If I'm not really your type it's cool."

"If you're... you... I..."

"Shit, it's fine. Calm down. Just was thinking it'd be fun." He keeps staring at you, mouth wide open, and you sigh, rolling your eyes. "Dude it's fine don't freak out. Forget it."

"Forget it? The fuck?" He's glaring ruby eyes at you, while you take a wad of money out of your little black backpack, decorated with anime pins all over and a ridiculous amount of keychains.

"Here," you hand him the cash, fingers brushing for a moment while he just stares. "Shit, I made it weird."

"Yeah you fucking did. Who just says that?" He glares right at you, thin brows low over his narrowed eyes, those sooty pink lashes too fucking pretty and long, god you're jealous of them!? Are they so pretty because you're baked?

"Sukuna, you've fucked like half the girls I know, I have heard you're pretty good at it." He blinks again at that, a rare blush to his cheeks, not fitting his cocky persona while you put out the blunt, letting it smoke against the tray. "Here's the money. Thanks again."

You turn, and he grips your wrist, pausing you, it feels way too good. Not only has it been way too long, Sukuna was fucking hot, every time he got too close you felt that heat, you literally clenched when he just brushed a big hand across your shoulder to grab something. And your boyfriend broke up with you six months ago, you thought maybe it would be fun to fuck him, Sukuna is sexy as fuck and chill. Now you want to disappear, clearly reading the room wrong as usual. 

You suck at that.

"You wanna fuck me? What, like... some friends with benefits? Or one time shit?" He stands, hovering so fucking tall, you turn and look at him, blazed whites of his eyes red, you swallow nervously, eyeing the tattoos on his chest in that thin white wifebeater that's just unfair to wear around you while you're ovulating, you can see his nipple piercings through it, and it's doing too much.

"I thought like once, if we liked it sure we could do it more. If we're both single and... get along... plus you're hot."

"Yeah I am." He grins and you roll your eyes.

"You know... never mind."

"Wait brat, shit." You sigh, looking up at him now, as he turns you to him, his cock twitching just looking at your dilated eyes behind thick glasses, your parted lips. His fingers brush against the softness of your sweater, watching your nipples press against the material.

"It's cool if you don't want to. Like I am chill about it  promise." He fingers the edge of your sweater, blitzed off his ass wondering if you're some fucking dream for a moment. But he feels the heat of your skin as his fingers slip up your waist.

"Think you can keep up with me, huh brat?" He murmurs then, snarky with his smirk. You step closer, your finger drifting up his hard chest.

"The question is if you can keep up with me, Sukuna."

Taglist open!! my pairings are as ridiculous as ever lol

Perm tagss @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[rafesangelita]

♡ who needs a boyfriend when you have a best friend like rafe who lets you use him to get yourself off?

warnings: mentions of fwb, lots of dirty talk, light praise, unprotected sex, rafe being a giver before a receiver..

“are you asleep?” you whispered, snaking your hand over rafe’s shirtless form. trying to get any kind of sleep when you were next to him was deemed impossible, especially when he knew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath that pink nightdress of yours. “no, not really.” he hummed groggily, turning his body to face you. you two have had such a weird ‘best friends with benefits’ dynamic going on for so long now, there was nothing that fazed you two when it came to sleeping together in the same bed.. let alone being naked and in close proximity.

“what’s wrong?” he pulled you on top of him, your heat sitting right where you needed him the most. biting your lip, you waited for rafe to meet your gaze before it clicked for him. hiking up the sheer material of your nightdress, your best friend snaked a hand between your legs, a curse leaving his lips as he ran his fingers up and down your soaked folds. “oh, you just want your pretty hole filled, huh?” you nodded, taking him out of the confines of his underwear. “yes—” you whined, “can i please use your cock, ray?” rafe grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a kiss before doing away with your top.

“that’s what friends are for.” he whispered, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he slid into you. rafe took a handful of your ass, a pained mewl sounding from your mouth as he groped the flesh roughly. “get yourself off, ‘pretty, fuck yourself back to sleep.” he encouraged you, his breath tickling the side of your face as you moved on top of him. you could just cry, the mere girth of rafe’s cock stretching you open so deliciously. all he had to do was lay there and listen to your little whimpers and whines as you hiccuped your praises for him. “you f-fill me up so good!” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin.

“yeah?” he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh, eliciting a squeal from your lips, “is anyone else letting you use their cock like this?” you shook your head, leaving sloppy kisses along his jawline. “no, just you!” rafe knew that already, considering he had devoted most of his time to chasing off every guy who thought they could have a chance with you, he just loved hearing you confirm it for him. surprisingly enough, rafe didn’t care if you made him cum or not, he reached his climax just knowing that you counted on him to make you feel good.

“oh, fuck,” you took in a sharp breath, circling your hips so your clit met his pubic bone, “rafe!” with your ministrations faltering, you struggled to keep up with your movements, a frustrated cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom. resting his hands in the small of your back, rafe pinned you against his chest as you came undone around his cock, your tears of pure unadulterated pleasure running down his shoulder as you trembled with the force of your orgasm. rafe felt the tension in his stomach starting to coil tight as he was close to finishing himself, his jaw clenching as you shook in his arms.

thumbing away the stray tears that managed to stay on the surface of your skin, rafe brought you down from your high with a soft ‘shhhh..’ rasping through the small space. his hands cupped your face, both of you exchanging a look before you slid off of him with a hiss. fully expecting to just hold you close and call it a night, rafe looked down at you with confusion as you laid down on your tummy between his thighs. “w-what are you doing?” he asked, swallowing thickly once you batted your lashes up at him. “what kind of friend would i be without returning the favor?”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."