#Is Beer Good For Diabetics

[beatodiabtesapp]

Living with type 2 diabetes frequently entails avoiding or limiting foods and beverages that can affect blood sugar (glucose) levels. Alcohol is not required to be one of them. However, this doesn’t mean that you can drink as much as you want. Read the blog to know more about beer for diabetics. Read more: https://www.beatoapp.com/blog/is-beer-good-for-diabetes/

[coryosbaby]

Cherry on Top !

synopsis: flashing your dad’s best friend leads to making milkshakes and a pounding on the kitchen counter.

Cw: age gap (reader is of age, anakin is in his 30s) // nsfw . flashing, tit play, pnv, ‘just the tip’ (for a minute), major size kink, light food play, creampie

Notes: this prob has a lot of errors, my bad

It starts off small, at first.

It’s not as if you meant to do it the first time. It was summer, hot, and you were in desperate need of release from your bathing suit that had been becoming less and less damp by the hour. Anakin, having a few beers with your dad, had decided to make his way from the bathroom upstairs. Not thinking, he had decided to open your door and ask you if you wanted pizza for dinner— per your dads request, of course. You were in the middle of taking off your bathing suit, and your bikini top was off. Anakin had paused, and when you noticed him you immediately began to scream at him to get out. He had complied, but he couldn’t help the hardness in his jeans at the sight of your full, perfectly rounded tits. Your nipples had been on display, perky despite the hot weather, and you were so gorgeous with the mounds sitting against your chest. Anakin hasn’t thought about anything else since.

And you know it, too. So that’s why every few weeks you decide to rejog his memory. He’ll be doing things when no one is around, the most random tasks, and you’ll lift your shirt up to your neck. You love the look that always glazes his face— that look of shock, that registers as he turns around from making a bowl of popcorn for movie night, or coming back from the kitchen to get another beer. His eyes bulge out of his head and a blush coats his cheeks. And then after a moment, he’ll get cocky that you’re doing this, doing this for his gaze, he’ll quietly mutter, “tease”. You always let out a tiny giggle, pulling your top back down.

“You gonna do something about it?” You always reply, and he always shakes his head with an amused look and turns back to his original task. But nothing can stop the way his cock twitches and swells every single time, the way you can see his knuckles turning white as he grips the kitchen counter as your dad walks back in, unknowing. He knows he shouldn’t make a move, so he doesn’t.

Until now, in this present moment: your dad has went out grocery shopping, anakin has decided to come over early, and you’ve asked him to make you a chocolate milkshake. You’re practically a brat— daddy gives you anything you want, and so does Anakin. So of course he’s going to get out the ice cream, milk, and other ingredients. His back muscles ripple as he pours the things into the blender, and the sight almost makes you drool. Smiling, you watch as he throws in some chocolate syrup. Diabetes for everyone else, but perfect for you— Anakin always knows exactly what you want.

“Don’t understand how your teeth aren’t rotting out of your head,” he grumbles, even though he’s the one adding additional sugary ingredients.

“Good dentist,” you quip. You lift yourself up onto the counter and swing your sock clad feet against the cabinet. “Can you add a cherry, too?”

“You know I always do, baby.”

The nickname makes heat creep up your neck. Biting your lower lip, you watch as he finishes making the milkshake and pours it into your favorite glass. He sprays on whipped cream, and of course, places a maraschino cherry on top. He grabs the heart shaped straw beside the drink and sticks it inside

He hands it over to you and you take a big sip. You lick up some of the whipped cream as Anakin looks at you for approval. His eyes follow your tongue coated in white.

“Good?” He asks, curious. You nod happily, beginning to sip again. He smiles, and begins to make one for himself. Your panties dampen as you watch the back of his shoulders once again.

He must be so strong, you think.

He finishes up his milkshake, sticking another straw into the a full glass.

You do what you usually do at times like these, and lift the hem of your top. Your nipples harden from the cold air. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head.

“Ani?”

“Yes?”

At the sound of your soft voice, he turns around. When he’s met with the sight of your tits, all plump and pretty, he immediately latches on to the look of them. Usually you don’t keep your shirt up for longer that a few seconds, but you don’t budge this time. Anakin’s gaze turns from amused to hungry in a matter of seconds.

“I need some help,” you breathe out. Anakin wavers. He’s used to your constant teasing, but this is new.

“With?”

Your eyes are pleading, as you look up at him.

“They hurt, ani,” you say. “Need you to rub them for me.”

He sets his glass down, moving around the bar to where you’re perched on the kitchen counter. Watching your desperation, he licks his lips.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” He starts, voice low.

“I want you,” you say quietly to him. He shakes his head, almost resistant. But your pleading face can only be said no to a few times before anakin finally gives in, and when you begin to rub your tits with your own hands he scolds you.

“Stop that.”

“Why? Don’t you want me?”

He exhales sharply, trying to avert his gaze but he simply can’t. Approaching you slowly, he seethes.

“You’re asking for it.”

“Mhm..” you murmur softly. “Daddy’s gonna be home in an hour, though.. needa hurry.”

You let out a tiny moan when finally, finally, Anakin’s fingers ghost over the peak of your nipple. He’s trying so hard to keep control. His palms are inches away from groping your chest, but he’s holding back.

“Daddy’s not gonna be happy if I do this.” He mutters. He looks up at you with something dark in his gaze. “Daddy’s gonna know you’ve been a bad little girl.”

You push against his hands. His skin rubs against your nipples in the best way.

“Maybe I want him to know.”

It’s fucked up. But Anakin’s cock is aching after that comment, and he begins to lightly rub your tits in his hands.

“Yeah?” He groans, breath heavy. “Maybe we could take a few pictures next time. Post ‘em, let everyone see how much of a whore you are. Seducing daddy’s buddy like this… breaking a big rule, baby. Everyone would love to see it.”

Next time. The thought makes you keen, and you nod as he begins to heavily grope you.

“Bet your dad would be so mad that his little girl’s being such a whore,” He continues. “God, just wait until I get my fuckin’ cock in you…”

“And you’ll what?” You taunt against him. You lean into his earlobe and bite it playfully. “Bend me over? Fuck me in my bedroom when my parents are downstairs? Know you’ve always wanted to.”

Anakin let’s out something between a groan and a whimper, and his hands move from your tits to your hips. Your thighs spread simultaneously, and he places his hips in between yours. You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer to you.

“Been wantin’ your cock since i graduated…” you mumble, running your nails along his shoulders. “Saw you in that suit when I was giving my valedictorian speech— before that, too.”

“A suit, huh?” He doesn’t kiss you on the mouth just yet, but he leaves little bites and runs his tongue along your collarbone. “That’s cute.”

“Mmmh. Gonna kiss me, yet? Or are you too weak to get it up, old man?”

“Old man?” He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening as he grinds his clothed cock against you. “Only ten years older than you…not even forty yet.”

“Still old to me,” you argue, and press your cunt against him. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” he mutters, and then his lips are pressing against yours, hot, heavy, tasting like chocolate and something that’s predominantly Anakin. It’s something you’ve been craving for years, and your hair goes up to his blonde locks and pulls. The sound he lets out is utterly sinful, and you probe his lip with your tongue. He understands your challenge, but is quick to shove his tongue into your mouth instead to assert dominance over you. You gasp for breath when he pulls away and begins unbuckling his belt.

“Would taste you first, pretty girl, but we don’t have time.”

And then he’s pulling his cock out, and he’s stroking it and it’s wet and it’s so big— circumcised with a pretty pink tip, a tuft of trimmed, light brown hair at the base of him, seven or eight inches, incredibly thick — and he’s dripping. He must’ve been worked up for a long while, watching you in your pretty pink skirt all day. Precum leaks over his fist as he moves.

He’s absolutely gorgeous as he tilts his head back. He’s putting on a show for you, and you know that he must be addicted to the attention. You look up with him at doe eyes and you push his hand away and replace it with your own. He stares into your eyes as you jerk him, his mouth open into the shape of an O.

You slide your panties to the side, rubbing your clitoris between your fingers. You’re aching for Anakin, and you clench as you guide his cock towards your awaiting entrance. You rub him a little on your clit, and it makes you quiver. You press him up against you and he watches with arousal evident in his gaze. You want him so bad, but he’s so big. Would he even fit?

“Go on,” Anakin demands as he sees your hesitation. “Let me get my cock inside there, angel. Let me see what that pretty pussy feels like.”

You bite your lip, wanting to please him. You spread your thighs a bit more, using your other hand to grab one of your pussy lips and spread yourself open. Anakin’s tip breaches you, and after a moment you push it in until you feel full enough. When his thick cockhead pops in, you let out a tiny squeak.

Anakin groans the moment his cock is inside your heat, the tightness and warmth almost too much. You haven’t even taken half of him, but you can feel the burn from the stretch. Your walls ache trying to accommodate him. You can feel tears well up in your eyes from the feeling, and Anakin’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he coos at you.

“Oh, honey. Yeah, take the tip, baby. Jus’ like that… only a few more pushes ‘n I’ll be all the way in my baby…”

“Just the tip?” You sniffle, hands grasping at his tattooed shoulders.

“Mmm..” is all Anakin says, and then he pushes into you again, forcing his cock to make its way past your velvety walls.

Okay, you think. So not just the tip.

The tears really begin to fall now, his length also getting to you as he bullies his way into your tiny pussy. You can feel how much he’s throbbing inside of you, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that you can feel his precum leaking inside your womb.

Anakin’s mouth is open, and he watches with fascination as your pussy swallows him whole. It’s been a while since he’s had such a nice cunt, and the fact that you’re taking it for him— even though it hurts you, even though daddy is gonna be home soon— makes him so fucking horny. The guilt he felt before has now washed away into something primal and dark. He wants to claim you from the inside out. Fuck morals— he’s taken care of you for years, hasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be rewarded with something? Besides, you’ve been showing your tits to him for weeks— you’ve been initiating it and practically begging for him to split you open like this. So how is it wrong, Anakin thinks, as his cock finally, finally fills you to the brim completely?

Yes, you heard that right. His hips are finally pressing against you, he’s finally balls deep inside your tiny cunt. You had begun crying a few seconds ago, hot salty tears staining your cheeks. Anakin leans down and licks them up with his tongue.

“So pretty when you cry,” he murmurs against you. “Look at that. Took all of me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart clenches, along other things, and you rest your face in his neck as he begins to slowly move.

“You are?”

“Always so proud of you,” he whispers. He presses a kiss to your forehead, sweet despite the current situation. “Gonna fuck you now, pretty girl.”

And that he does. Slow, at first, but his thrusts soon gain speed and something is beginning to build in your tummy.

“Faster.” You whine into his mouth as he kisses you. “Faster, Ani, please!”

And of course, he goes faster. He increases his pace and his hips hit yours ferociously. It’s not long before his heavy sack is slapping against your ass and he’s groaning as he pounds you against the granite countertop.

“Yeah?” He groans. “You like when I fuck you like this? Like my big cock splitting you open? Clenching on me so tight, baby, like you don’t wanna let me go.”

You mewl, grabbing onto him tight. You watch as his eyes land on your milkshake glass a little ways away. It’s still halfway full.

He reaches over, pulling it towards the both of you. He dips his finger in, scooping up some the now melting whipped cream.

“Can’t waste it,” he murmurs.

He rubs it along one of your nipples, coating it in white. He brings his tongue down, suckling the pebbled bud into his awaiting mouth. Your eyes roll back, nerves on fire as he scrapes his teeth against your flesh. He does the same to your other nipple, dripping with chocolate, and then is quick to shove his fingers down your throat. Sugar invades your taste buds, chocolate and whipped cream and syrup, and you greedily lick it up and suckle his fingers with your heavy tongue. He grunts, watching as you practically drink from his digits.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Good fuckin’ girl. Making me feel so good.. pussy’s so tight… yeah, lick me clean, you filthy bitch.”

You tighten, wetness leaking creamy streaks down his length. His degradations are making you even more eager to cum around him.

He smells so nice and he looks so good and you’re already so close. Anakin knows it, too, and his fingers on his opposite hand reach down to rub your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon, honey.” He taunts. “Cum for Ani, baby, need you to cum on my cock so fuckin’ bad.”

Your eyes roll back, clenching up around him like a vice as his fingers fill your throat. You let out a strained, animalistic sound, as you coat his cock in your slick. It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had— either because of Anakin’s fingers, his big cock, or the fact that you’ve been in love with him since the age of eighteen. But either way, you let out a loud moan as you hit your peak, thrusting your hips against his as his cock hits that special, spongey spot inside of you. Even when you come down, Anakin’s hips are still pressed flush against you and he’s still pounding your cunt like it’s his salvation.

His fingers press against your pretty thigh highs, some of them still sticky from the milkshake, and you can tell by the sweat on his brow and the stuttering of his hips that he’s close. You begin to taunt him with sweet, sugar coated words.

“Give me your cum, Ani.” You whine. “Please? I need it, need you to fill up my pussy. It needs your cum so bad—“

“Fuck!”

Anakin moans, loud, and his head tilts back as he slams into you one last time. Rope after rope shoots into your gaping pussy, and Anakin fucks himself through his orgasm until it’s on the brink of painful. When he looks down, he watches as he slowly pulls his fat cock out of your hole. The creamy strings of his cum stick to your pussy lips and his cock, and when his used tip plops out of your hole, a waterfall of thick hot cum spills out of you and onto the countertop. Anakin’s eyes are firey still, and he moves your legs further apart and lifts your hips up so he can watch the puddle of spend in your gaping hole.

“So beautiful,” he mutters. His finger moves down to play with it a little bit, and it makes you clench. “Does my cum feel good, baby?”

You nod, dizzy. He smiles, watching your tired eyes begin to flutter shut.

“No, no.” He says gently, slapping the side of your cheek. “…Wake up, honey. Your dad’s gonna be home soon.”

Slowly, you peel them open and he lets go of your shaking legs. He carries you up to your room, lays you down on the pretty pink sheets, shuts the light off. He cleans up the mess downstairs. All the while, you slip into a dazed and peaceful sleep.

And when Anakin throws the last cum coated napkin away in the garbage can, your dad arrives home with no idea what has just occurred between his precious girl and his best friend.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[r0-boat]

Headcanons for favorite ice cream flavor of your favorite whb characters?

I will do all of them

ALL WHB DEMON CHARACTERS AND THEIR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR

Ultimate whb ice cream headcannon! Please let me know how you think of them in the comments I love reading them :)

Cut for length.

Gehanna

Satan

This man is an cookies and cream bastard. He crushes Oreos and puts them into his ice cream the more the merrier. He'll still eat his ice cream even though it's just a pile of cookies and little bits of ice cream. Genuinely gets mad that there's not enough cookies in his ice cream.

Sitri

I think he would like a more uncommon flavor like pistachio or matcha. He understands not many people like his flavor but it's his.

Juno/Ppyong

Chocolate ice cream with chocolate chip. Drizzled with chocolate... He just really likes chocolate.

Leraye

He likes those character popsicles with the eyeball gum. he always takes out the eyeballs first and then eats their heads.

Belial

He likes sherbert with gummy bears. I can see him really liking fruity flavors. Occasionally he does also have sprinkles.

Paimon

Bubble gum flavor is a masterpiece and if you disagree you're wrong.

Astaroth

Rocky road. He likes the richness of chocolate paired with the nuttiness of the almonds and the softness of marshmallows delicious!

Zagan

Chocolate chip! He's a simple man.

Tartaros

Mammon

Anything with caramel has his heart, it's sweet and delicious and he likes watching it roll down. So butterscotch caramel. Don't forget the gold shavings

Bimet

He'll have whatever Mammon is having having. extra gold shavings please... (a scoop of pineapple with coconut shavings)

Eligos

Strawberry with sprinkles! He is a strawberry die hard. Constantly getting into fights with chocolate and vanilla fans.

Valfor

Butter pecan with caramel as well. He'll also politely ask what ice cream flavor are you having and then politely asked for some of yours in exchange for some of his.

Hades

Leviathan

Neapolitan ice cream because it has three flavors and that's better than one. but then would rudely steal a spoonful of yours and wants to try everyone else's because he's jealous of what you're having because it looks good.

Foras

He also likes Neapolitan not because he wants to copy Levi He just genuinely likes the flavors.

Glasyalabolas

He can't decide between Cherry or raspberry. He just really likes strong fruity flavors. He doesn't mind a little chocolate drizzle either.

Barbatos

Of course he would like red velvet And he likes mixing bits of brownies.

Orias

Cotton candy with sprinkles. Anything sweet enough to give you diabetes

Abyssos

Beelzebub

His favorite changes every other day once you ask him It will take in about 10 minutes to think of an answer just to change it three times.

(funny headcanon one time visiting Leviathan He got into his ice cream stash to separate the three flavors and reorganize them as a prank. That's how he got banned from Hades for 100 years.)

Bael

Likes root beer float, He likes it because he can mix it in and then drink it while he's working.

Amon

My brain is telling me that he likes cookie dough. I don't know why I feel strongly about this.

Naberius

Peanut butter. He's such a sucker for peanut butter ice cream. He'll be eating it with his tail wagging happily.

Stolas

Strawberry cheesecake ice cream! And don't you dare tell him it's girly or be mean because he will cry!

Paradise Lost

Lucifer

Moose tracks is the most old man dad flavor I can think of.

Gamigin

He's more of a snow cone guy. But he likes Sorbet anything with citrus and he'll be there.

Marbas

He's a plain guy He just likes vanilla. If he feels like something different than he'll add to it it's perfect.

Beur

He likes vanilla but he's more of a French vanilla person. He thinks of himself as the better vanilla fan. He's kind of prideful about it.

Morax

Not much of an ice cream fan but he'll have whatever you're having

Niflheim

Belphegor

Mint chocolate chip. We don't know much about him it's just a vibe.

Gusion

Coffee flavor, no one saw this coming.

Bathin

He likes flavors from different countries like Ube, moonmist or hokey pokey. Any flavor that's specifically unique to that place he'll try it.

Andrealphus

Rainbow sherbert he likes tasting all the little flavors. He also likes the name because if he could see he wants to see all the pretty colors it has. Probably just as beautiful as he imagines it.

Abbadon

Dantalian

Man likes grape flavor He's just dying to get stabbed.

Phenix

Banana split. He eats the banana whole ;)

Ronove

Mango surprisingly normal...

Other

Minhyeok

Always orders the same ice cream as yours when he's alone he just orders vanilla topped with MnM's

[mildkleptomaniac]

type one — jj maybank x cameron!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fainting, almost passing out,

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: my boyfriend is type 1 and i really tried my best remembering everything he has to go through. hope this is accurate enough and y’all enjoy!! we love a sweet brother rafe and caring jj. 

Summer, the season of warmth and light, a time of vitality and Boneyard parties. Air filled with salty atmosphere and the smoke of the bonfire. Teenagers trickled onto the beach, dragging kegs in the sand, chairs, and stereos. Partiers shed layers of clothing to embrace the heat and the warmth of the bodies next to them. 

Y/N savored the Boneyard parties, enjoying her time with friends and her siblings, the drinks, and the people-watching. She fell into a rhythm of dancing with one of her twin’s boyfriend’s friends, JJ. Sarah mentioned JJ occasionally, but Y/N was surprised at how well they clicked. The first time JJ and Y/N met, he gave her a cold shoulder–until she assisted him in winning a Beer Pong game. 

After several drinks and dancing the night away, Y/N began to feel light-headed. JJ kept his hands around her waist as she slowed down, the scenery around her became spinning. Racking through ideas of why she felt like this–she’d forgotten to take her blood sugar before leaving the house. 

The music and the conversations drowned out the sound of her insulin pump beeping loudly, signaling her blood sugar increased dangerously high. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything around her before her pump began vibrating in her pocket. If she wasn’t light-headed enough, the vibration made it worse. 

“I need to sit down,” Y/N muttered, pulling away from JJ’s grasp. His brows furrow, still holding onto her waist before sitting her down on some driftwood. Weaker and weaker, Y/N began fumbling with her pump. Dread coursed through her at the epiphany she ran out of insulin. Her mouth felt parched.

“JJ–Where’s Sarah?” Her voice was weak, as she glanced around the party to find her twin. Sarah and Y/N were never separated for long, before they knew it, Sarah spotted her sister and raced over.

“Hey, what’s going on?” She questioned before the realization of the situation hit her. 

“Her pump keeps beeping and–”

“Sarah, get Rafe–he has the glucagon in his car–” Y/N waved her hand, limply. 

Her twin didn’t need to hear anymore before Sarah and the rest of the Pogues hunt down Rafe Cameron. JJ held Y/N in his arms, stroking her hair as she lay there, hoping to calm her down. He kept small talk, making sure she didn’t actually pass out. On the edge of his seat, he kept looking for his friends or Rafe, hoping they’d come back soon with insulin for Y/N. 

Explicitly, JJ never stated his feelings for the Cameron twin, but the Pogues picked up on it by his constant desire to be within arms reach or asking if she’d be joining them today on whatever adventures they voyaged on. 

If she wasn’t feeling like passing out, she would be embarrassed. Being seen as weak and vulnerable in front of others was deemed to be her worst fear. JJ’s words blurred together as her hearing faded in and out, her vision becoming hazy.

“Come here, Y/N” Rafe spoke, now supporting his younger sister. Despite Y/N and Sarah being twins, Rafe and she had an unspoken bond. The sibling relationship held no jealousy, but empathy for each other’s struggles and relationships with their father. No competition or underlying hatred–something Rafe held against Sarah for being the favorite child. “I got you, let’s get this going for you.”

Rafe fumbled with the device, despite training for this emergency multiple times. JJ watched him kneel down beside his sister, and the hatred between the two disappeared. Rafe never approved of his sisters hanging out with the Pogues, but when it came to Y/N and her diabetes, nothing mattered anymore.

As the insulin started to take effect, Y/N started to feel better. Rafe and JJ sat with her, keeping her company until she became fully conscious again. Rafe held her hand, stroking his thumb over it. Seeing his sister in such a distressed state only made things worse for Rafe–not wanting to get the backlash from their father. Y/N constantly reminded him that her diabetes would never be his fault if something bad happened to her–she made sure Ward knew too. 

 Pope, Kie, and the couple watched over Y/N s well, worried that they would have to call an ambulance. 

"Thanks, Rafe," Y/N said, feeling grateful. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden and killing the mood."

Rafe chuckled. "You're not a burden," he said. "You're my little sister. I'll always be here to take care of you." A side of Rafe Cameron not many people witness. If anything were to happen to his siblings, under his watch, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

The night ended shortly after, Pope offering to drive Y/N home s she could fill her pump with insulin. Accepting his offer, JJ rode in the backseat with the Cameron girl. Her head rested on his shoulder, Pope peeking through the rearview mirror to make sure nothing else went awry. The two helped her inside, not wanting to leave until she made herself comfortable, fixed her pump, and got some light food and water in her. 

“Thank you, Pope,” She wrapped his arms around him. She knew how much he disliked Rafe–just relieved neither JJ nor Pope let their feelings get in the way of her health. Letting go, she faced the blonde. 

Pope waited in the car, allowing the two to talk privately. 

“I was hoping we’d have more time together tonight to dance and talk.” She confessed. JJ laughed, nodding his head. He wished the night didn’t end the way it did as well. 

“Hm, maybe tomorrow we can make up for a lost time–only if you remember to take care of yourself.”

[toshisdecadence]

Another Notch on Her Belt

PAIRING(S): sub!yuta okkotsu x dom!reader (descriptions of: reader x suguru geto & reader x satoru gojo)

TAGS & WARNINGS: dark content, dubcon, watersports, humiliation, yuta is a virgin, reader gets massive play, rich girl!reader, cherry popping, forced orgasms, overstimulation, slut shaming, spitting, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, riding, 69ing, public car sex, spitting, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, stepping, trampling, cum eating, footjob, oral sex (m and f receiving), breathplay, yuta is satoru gojo’s cousin, smoking, alcohol consumption

WORD COUNT: 16.8k

SUMMARY: The resident maneater of the university sets her hungry eyes on none other than the shy and bumbling Yuta Okkotsu.

© toshisdecadence

“Pleasure to meet you.”

There’s many things that Yuta was afraid of. Of all the things, they consisted of heights, public speaking, the ocean, his Algebra II teacher, Kanji lessons—you name it. If there were phrases a person should rightfully be frightful of, it should be along the lines of “you’re no longer eligible for your scholarship.” Perhaps “you have diabetes and we have to cut your leg off.” Or, his personal greatest fear—as he presumes to be what other people also fear: “We're so sorry, Mr. Okkotsu, but both of your parents have died in the car accident.” 

But “pleasure to meet you”? It was just four simple words and yet Yuta felt the sensation of unmistakable dread and anxiety travel through his limbs.

It had been quite some time since Yuta had felt this nervous. The last time he felt this unsettled was right before his university entrance exam. He was banking on achieving a specific score in order to qualify for the full-ride scholarship for the psychology department. At that time, it was a matter of life and death to Yuta. He supposed others within the same testing room as him felt the same. Or at least, the ones who needed to worry about money. Despite his more comfortable upbringing, he did not come from money. Nowhere near it. His parents had to ask their absurdly wealthy relatives, the Gojos, to borrow extra money in order to cover Yuta’s prep school costs during high school.

Yuta did not pass the qualifying score for the full-ride, but he did achieve a score that qualified him for a partial scholarship, and his parents were happy for him. They worked hard to support and cover the tuition for their son, insisting that all Yuta had to worry about was his studies and his well being.

His university days had gone by rather peacefully. He had a small and closely-knit group of friends. He did well enough in classes to keep his scholarship, and he got to learn more about the mind as a student of the school’s psychology department.

Yuta was a very warm and friendly person. He was shy, yes, but he always meant well, and that caused him to be surrounded by people who enjoyed his company. Many people had often called him an angel. He was not only adorable, but he was also a good friend. He never had anyone he hated, nor anyone he wasn’t on good terms with. Yuta was the type of person who got along with anyone because of his gentle personality, and nobody could ever get mad at—

“Yuta?”

Your voice incites that panic and fear within him once again, and Yuta is reminded of the reason why he feels such a visceral reaction towards you. The reason why he feels so scared of you.

Right now, Yuta’s stomach felt like it could collapse in on itself. The large space of his cousin Satoru’s mansion suddenly feels infinitely smaller, like it would cave in and push him closer towards your body. The thought of this constricts his throat to the size of a straw. Yuta’s skin was warm from the beer running through his system, but somehow, he felt a cold draft come over him before you. Was he about to break out into a cold sweat? He didn’t even feel this tense even as he prepared to go up for public speaking. Or for when he debated on going up to the waiter at a restaurant and telling them they forgot his side of fries. 

And yet you were looking at him with a blasé stare, as if nothing of importance had transpired between the both of you. You might as well have asked him to grab you some booze from the kitchen when he was on his way there. Yuta finds himself avoiding your gaze, finding interest in the stray spills of alcohol on Satoru’s marbled floors. You don’t budge. You continue to gaze into Yuta’s face, folding your arms over your chest.

Yuta felt like an ant beneath your lofty gaze. Like you were scrutinizing him, picking apart at his expressions and seeing through his feelings. Like you were waiting for the perfect moment to raise your pretty heeled designer boots to stomp on him.

“Sorry,” Yuta finally musters out, still avoiding your gaze. His slender fingers fiddle with his short nails, his head lowered.

“You’re pretty shy,” you hum. It wasn’t meant to be an observation, it was more of a statement, as if you had decided how you viewed his personality. Uncrossing your arms, you reach for the pockets of your brown vintage leather jacket, fishing out an opened pack of black cigarettes. Taking one and placing it between your glossy lips, you outstretch your hand with the pack of cigarettes to Yuta.

His trembling hands gesture to decline, his dark eyes widening. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but you tuck back the cigarettes in your pocket. You take out a silver lighter afterwards, bringing the flame to the butt of your cigarette and putting it away. You inhale, your cigarette’s embers burning bright red before you pluck it from your lips. A billow of smoke spills from your mouth, and Yuta looks into your eyes. He’s drawn into that indifferent gaze of yours that he’d caught in an accident once before, and the memory forced him still once again.

“Don’t apologize for things like that,” you say in that pleasant and even tone, in that same calm hum as if you have him all figured out. “You should stop doing that.” A puff of smoke billows in the air, and your eyes flicker over to him, pinning him with your dismissive gaze. “It makes your apologies seem less genuine.”

He looks into your pretty eyes, those irises glinting with mirth that makes him feel as if you view him as someone that brings amusement to you. He thinks his knees might buckle under your direct attention. 

Nonetheless, Yuta finds himself at a loss for words. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about you yet. But he was certain that it wasn’t a positive emotion. He looks into your eyes—those same blank eyes that makes him feel as if you view him as someone beneath you, and for the first time, he speaks with a less than civil tone.

“You talk like you’ve known me all my life.”

The small smile deepens on your lips, and somehow it changes the fear that bubbles within his stomach to one of slight indignation.

“I don’t need to know you all your life to understand you as a person,” you state, bringing the cigarette to your lips once again. The embers burn bright as you inhale, never once breaking eye contact with Yuta. “It’s as clear as day. You’re one of those good boys. You never color outside the lines.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, but his eyebrows pinch together.

You don’t add any further commentary.

Not long after, a friend of yours swings by and drags you along to meet some friends, leaving Yuta to gaze at your retreating figure, disappearing within the crowds of people, the trail of your smoke leaving a sour crinkle in Yuta’s nose.

The first time Yuta saw you was a moment he’d never forget.

He recalls it vividly. God, how could he ever forget that? It took place an hour after his lecture had ended and Yuta was passing by the empty hall. It was a Friday, late in the afternoon, and by this time, this area of the building was usually empty as no professors liked to occupy this spot. The halls were quiet, the only sounds coming from Yuta’s faint footsteps as he walked. His face was weary from a long day, bags decorating the skin beneath his face, his lips almost chappy.

The moment Yuta peeked through the doors of the lecture room at the end of the hall, his steps halted to a stop when he heard a faint sound. He turns to the direction of the sounds, his brows pinched together. It was coming from the lecture room. He thought it was weird, who else would be here at this time of the day? There were no more classes left on this floor.

He steps forward with trepidation. His hands grip the cool metal handle of the door, and he twists it, cracking the door open slightly to allow one eye of his to peek in. 

The visage he was greeted with was one of utter debauchery, his breath stilling in his throat.

You were straddling a large man’s thighs with your black skirt hiked up your thighs. He catches the shimmer of black tights pulled taut over your shapely legs. You were fully clothed, almost pristine, save for the half-naked man beneath you. The man looked like a positive mess, his pants pulled down to his knees, his button up shirt wrinkly with a few buttons popped open. Your attention was focused on the man before you, dipping your manicured nails into his mouth. 

“Suck,” you order, and the man follows. His tongue laps up at your fingers, moaning around your fingers with teary eyes, gazing up at you in need. A scoff leaves your plush lips as you let your free stray hand trace the well-sculpted planes of his broad chest, your fingers lingering on his puffy nipples.

“Look at these,” you coo, harshly grabbing the man’s perky nipple and twisting it. This earned a sharp intake of breath from the man around your fingers. “Don’t you think you need a bra, hmm?” A muffled moan comes from the man’s mouth. “You’re sucking my fingers even harder now.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips, your head cocked to the side. “You like to be treated like a bitch? You like being my slut?”

The man gives frenzied nods.

His response seems to disappoint you, and you pluck your fingers from his mouth, a wet squelch echoing throughout the lecture room. Lifting yourself from him, you fix your skirt and stand tall, looming over the seated man. His dick stands erect, flushed and red, twitching pitifully, and you gaze at it with indifference.

“Men like you don’t deserve to get anywhere inside of me,” you say with disinterest. “Men like you just take what I give you, and count yourself blessed because I even looked at you. Do you understand?”

The man nods, panting heavier. “Yes, ma’am.”

You seem satisfied, so you lift your leg, pressing your heeled feet against his erect dick.

“I should reward you for being so good,” you hum, rubbing his dick with the fine leather of your heels. “Cumming just from my feet, hmm? God, look at you, all worked up for me like a needy bitch in the fucking classroom.” The man’s cock twitches as your foot continues its work, stroking him with your heels, watching in sick satisfaction as the sharp heel digs into the flesh of his heavy balls. This earned a pathetic whine from the man’s lips, his hips twitching. “Careful not to cum on my shoes,” you warn in a stern voice, stilling the movement of your foot, “or I’ll make you regret it.”

The man cries out, his hips stuttering. You take a step to the side, watching as the man cums on himself and on the floor. A sneer stretches on your lips, gazing down at the man.

“Did you just cum from being stepped on?” Ridicule laces your voice. You glance down at the cum stains on the floor, and you return your attention to the flushed face of the man, who was gazing at you like you were some sort of goddess.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he exhales, coming down from his high.

You nod your indifferent head toward the floor. “Get on your knees and lick up the mess you made. Don’t miss a spot.”

The man smiles dreamily, nodding his head. He kneels on the floor, on all fours like a dog as he lowers his face to the floor. Yuta’s eyes widen as he sees the man’s tongue stick out, licking up his cum from the dirtied floors. There’s a sick expression spread on your pretty face. You take a step forward, and you press down a heeled foot on the man’s upper back, forcing him to go lower.

“Do it properly,” you order. This earns a muffled groan from the man, and he continues, lapping up lazily at his own liquids, a man lost in the hazy pleasure.

By this time, Yuta’s breaths stutter, and he realizes he has unconsciously held his breath in fear of being discovered. Unfortunately for him, as if you read his mind and readily wish to go against his desires, you look towards the crack in the door.

Yuta feels all the air leave his lungs when your gaze bore directly into his.

For the first time, since he’s encountered you having your way with the man in the studio, he is finally allowed a good look at your face. You were ridiculously pretty, Yuta immediately thinks. You had one of those memorable faces. Pretty features, pert lips, with those void eyes that feel as if they were sucking him in the longer he gazed into them. The pretty features were fixed in an icy manner given your less than friendly disposition, and Yuta felt immense fear with the utter lack of warmth in your eyes.

You break eye contact with him first, not seeming to care if you had an audience as you bent the man before you to your will. Yuta takes this as his chance to retreat, his hands shakily closing the door shut before running toward the elevators to leave.

Yuta never tells any of his friends what he’d seen. Fazed, he returns to his shared dorm with his best friend, Toge Inumaki. The male looks up at Yuta’s approaching figure, noting the odd expression on his roommate’s face.

“Hey,” Toge says from his bed with pinched brows, his laptop sitting on his lap as he did some assignments. Toge became acquainted with Yuta because of Yuta’s cousin once again, Satoru Gojo. It was through Satoru’s vast friendship circle that Yuta had the fortune of meeting the man. Yuta and Toge hit it off as good friends since the beginning of high school, remaining as friends and attending the same university. When deciding on a dorm, both of them needed a roommate, and the rest was history.

“Hey,” is all Yuta says before he crashes into his bed. He relishes in the cold sheets, his body having been warm in the hot and humid weather outside. He feels grateful to have a roommate that knows him so well. Toge always kept the air conditioning system turned on so their dorms were cold and chilly.

“I ordered some chicken, it’s in the fridge so just heat it up if you’re hungry,” his friend supplies.

“I’ll eat some in a bit, thank you,” Yuta mutters out. “I’m just a little out of it.”

“Did something happen?” Toge asks, glancing over at him with a blank face. The staccato of his fingers tapping down on his laptop’s keyboard fill the relative silence of the dorm. “You don’t lie down immediately in bed after coming from outside because you hate the outside germs.”

“No,” Yuta murmurs, burying his face in his pillow, his soft voice almost muffled, “nothing happened.”

An unimpressed scoff comes from the man. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it better.”

Yuta groans, grabbing his sheets and hiding his face. If there was one thing he lamented, it’s his inability to hide his emotions. His friends pointed out how easy it was to see his emotions. He didn’t have a filter. He said what he felt, and if he didn’t, his face would show it. Or his ears. He had the unfortunate tendency for his ears to redden whenever he felt embarrassed.

“So?” Toge probes, his attention still focused on his laptop as he types away. “What’s got you like this?”

“Have you ever met a woman who scared you?” Yuta finally blurts it out. He does so after carefully considering how he felt about you based on his first impression. As far as first impressions go, he could argue that he had the worst one anyone could possibly experience with you. He can still feel it. The chilly gaze of yours that bore into his eyes through the crack of the door. That emotionless stare. It unsettled him. He hadn’t seen anyone so . . . uninterested. In anything, or anyone. Yuta tightens his grip on his comforters at the sudden shiver that travels through his body at the recollection of you.

Toge pauses to consider this. “Hmm. No one except my mom when she found out I stayed up playing games instead of sleeping.”

“Not like that,” Yuta sighs. “I mean, like, someone you don’t know. A woman your age that just scares you from the first impression.”

“. . . I don’t get it. Every woman is scary.”

“Then I don’t know any other way to explain it,” Yuta murmurs.

“Wait, so you met a girl?” Toge sounds surprised, shutting his laptop to properly turn to the direction of his friend. Yuta internally chastises himself for being so open to his friend about his romantic experiences. His friends—Satoru and Toge, basically—had wasted no expense in trying to set him up with girls, but he was never really interested. Some of them also did not like how shy he was. How he stumbled over his words and couldn’t meet them in the eye properly. Yuta was also not keen on the college hook-up world. He didn’t understand how someone could just have sex with someone they just met, and then act as if they don’t know each other afterwards. “Are you finally joining the hook-up world?” Toge probes, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Downloading Tinder?”

“No!” Yuta huffs out with a scandalized expression on his soft features. “Never that!”

Toge’s face falls, turning back to face his laptop, opening it again. He’s typing his password once again. “I should’ve known you’re a forever virgin,” he grumbles. “We’re the same age but how do I get more pussy than you?”

“Because I don’t feel comfortable h-having sex with women I’m not dating!” Yuta protests in a whisper, his ears dusted red.

“Whatever you say, Mother Theresa.”

Yuta falls momentarily silent. His roommate for the past year has been witness to his love life—or lack thereof. College was the time people hooked up, drank, smoked, and had fun. One could argue Yuta was the weird one for not participating, but he was firm in his beliefs. He wasn’t really a ‘wait-until-marriage’ type of guy, but he did believe in reserving those things for someone he’s in a relationship with, hence his inexperience with girls. He’s only ever had one serious relationship during high school, but even then, they never did anything further than kiss. Toge almost dropped his bowl of cereal the morning when Yuta disclosed he was a virgin. With renewed vigor, his roommate sought to help “rid him of his problem,” in Toge’s words, and had also employed the help of his other friends to introduce girls to him. Despite how many girls have been interested in him and attempted their shot, Yuta still finds himself yet to reciprocate any of their advances.

Yuta has a rather innocent belief about love. He wanted to have a girlfriend he truly adored. He wanted to cherish her and kiss her, and make love to her. He wanted her to shower him with kisses. He wanted to whisper words of love into her ear, hold her hand, and feel the warmth of her embrace. He wanted to love only her and to dedicate himself to her. He wanted to marry her in the future, to wake up to the sight of her next to him in bed every day for the rest of his life. He wanted a pure and timeless love.

But his traitorous mind flickers over to thoughts of you back in that lecture room. He ponders silently. You seemed to be completely the complete opposite of his ideal. You treated the man like you hated him. Like he was beneath you. Insulting him by calling him a bitch and a slut, stepping on him without remorse, ordering him to lick the dirty floor, and you seemed to find a sick joy in it. Dominating the helpless man beneath you as if it came as easy as breathing. Like it was second-nature. He didn’t understand it. There was no love in that type of lovemaking. It was just . . . humiliation. Yuta didn’t know how anyone could be into that.

The image of you shoving your fingers into the mouth of the naked man, shutting him up as you straddled him without a care in the world through the crack of the door that Yuta peeked at flashes once again in his mind. The twisted glimmer in your eyes and your plush lips curled in a cruel sneer.

I should reward you for being so good, your low drawl resounds in his head.

Yuta was unfamiliar with this feeling. That feeling that swirled within his stomach seemed to be an odd amalgamation of curiosity, fear… and excitement.

He wonders if you would recognize him just from that brief glimpse through the door.

It becomes apparent to him on the third time you meet, once again at another party, that you do remember him.

Yuta is finding his way to the bathroom, skirting around people. He’d drunk too much iced tea, after Toge had made some when his mother sent over some tea leaves and a family recipe with it. It tasted perfect. Yuta was happy to have it as an alternative to alcohol at this party. He was now lamenting that decision as he was ready to piss any moment.

He does find a bathroom, and he opens it and slips inside immediately, only to find you inside, sitting on the countertops with your skirt hiked up and a man between your thighs.

The man between your thighs immediately protests at the intruder. “What do you think you’re—” he begins.

“Get the fuck out,” you interrupt.

Yuta’s ears turn red, and he stumbles back slightly. What the fuck was going on? He feels his breathing speed up. His surroundings all of a sudden feel small and cramped. He’s glancing at the man who’s glaring at him, then to you who has that same signature blank stare. There it was again. That look. Like you could care less if he stayed to watch you. His hands shakily feel for the doorknob, turning it and getting ready to leave before you—

“Not you,” your voice speaks out, and Yuta freezes. He turns back to see you looking down towards the man between your legs, who you push away with your heels, your shoes pressing painfully against the man’s chest. The man’s back reaches the bathroom’s walls with a grunt at the impact.

“You,” you assert, staring dead into the eyes of the other guy. “You get out. Not him.”

The guy looks alarmed. “What?” he huffs out. “But we were just—”

“And I just changed my mind,” you state, voice so chilly that Yuta shivers in his spot.

The man questions you no longer and scrambles to get out of the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath before he slams the door behind him.

Silence and the muted boom of the loud R&B music blasting outside fill the space of the bathroom. You finally turn to look at Yuta, hiking your skirt down, but remaining on the counter. You didn’t seem to have any plans of leaving. A moment of awkwardness settles in the bathroom, and he couldn’t handle it any longer.

Yuta bows his head apologetically, unable to lift his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry for intruding,” he murmured out softly. “I’ll find a differe—”

“What for?” you deadpan, pushing your skirt back down to maintain some decency. “If you need to piss just do it in this bathroom. That’s what you came here for, right?”

Yuta is at a loss for words. He shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Were you that open-minded? Did you not have a concept of personal space? Was it normal for you to just watch strangers piss? Was that also a kink? What the hell was going on?

“If you’re worried about your dick, don’t be,” you state, fishing for something in your jacket’s pockets once again. “This is your second time seeing me like this after all.” Yuta gulps at your words, his eyes widening. So you do remember him. 

A small satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your plush lips upon seeing his expression. “I doubt that seeing your dick would make a difference in our relationship,” you drawl. You produce that same cigarette pack, grabbing one and placing it between your lips. “Or lack thereof,” you add with a light cock of your brow. You light it in that same way, and Yuta briefly thinks to himself about your particular scent. It was a signature one that he was beginning to familiarize himself with. A chilly mint with a hint of smoke. Hot and cold. Distant yet . . .

You suddenly lean in closer, face mere inches away from Yuta’s, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your glossy lips.

. . . close.

“You apologized again, though,” you say, now looking particularly unimpressed. “I thought I told you not to do that?”

Yuta frowns at this. He was beginning to grow irate. His bladder was screaming. His panic was setting in by being in such close proximity with you. He needed to be alone.

“Uh, I need to use the bathroom, so…” he mutters out. “If you could . . . um.”

You lean back at his words. There was no particular change in your expression, but you pluck the cigarette between your lips and exhale a puff of smoke towards Yuta’s face, causing his face to scrunch. He attempts to fan away the fumes from his face. It only makes his need to piss even more urgent, and by now Yuta was biting down on his lip trying to hold it in. He couldn’t piss in front of some random girl. Especially you. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll consider it if you ask nicely,” is all that you say, an amused curl on your lips, crossing your legs on the counter. Yuta’s eyes betray him as they follow the motion. You smile at him, and the little twinkle in your otherwise void eyes tells him you noticed. “I told you I don’t mind if you pissed while I’m in the bathroom.”

“But I mind,” he lets out between gritted teeth, his voice still soft. “. . . Please? I need to use it.”

Your eyes gaze at him with mirth. You cock your head to the side, inspecting him. “You’re cute,” you coo. 

You uncross your legs, getting off the counter. Plucking the cigarette from between your lips, you reach for his mouth, parting his lips to slot in the lipstick stained cigarette between his lips. Your hands ghost over his face for a bit, and he notes the color of your nails. Bubblegum pink. He almost thinks it’s cute, but your unreadable expression renders him quiet. Your face is so close. Yuta swears he can count your individual lashes, see the expanse of your eyes, feel your warm breath against his skin. He can smell the mint much more intensely at this proximity. He detects the barest traces of vanilla mingled in. His senses are filled with you; your skin, your face, the heat of your body, your lips, your eyes, the lingering taste of your cherry lipstick on the butt of your cigarette between his lips. Your stray hand reaches towards his furrowed brows, as if to attempt to smooth them; your other hand reaches for the corner of his lips to tug it up slightly.

“Though you’re cuter when you’re smiling,” you finish, eyes faintly crinkled in a fond manner. You open the door behind him and slip out, shutting it gently behind you.

His cheeks heat up, frozen still in the bathroom. Yuta is left by himself, your cigarette stuck between his lips, and the phantom grazes of your fingers on his skin. 

Yuta knows nothing about you but your name.

He’s on a quest to find out more, walking down the stairs, trying to locate his friends to find answers. He easily spots Satoru’s snowy hair among the sea of drunk bodies and makes his way to his group of friends. He shimmies in, waving his hands as they recognize him and call out his name.

Noritoshi, Satoru, Aoi, Toge, and Suguru are all gathered together. Aoi immediately heads over next to Yuta to put his beefy arms over the younger man’s shoulders as a greeting.

“Yuta,” Aoi greets him with a smile, a red solo cup in hand. His dark hair was pulled up in a neat bun at the back of his head, the scar on his face peppered with a few lipstick marks. “What’s up, man? We were looking for you everywhere earlier.”

“I was in the bathroom,” Yuta replies. “I drank too much iced tea.”

The tall and burly man leans in to sniff him. “Oh?” Yuta tenses at the playful lilt of Aoi’s deep voice. “Did you smoke there too?”

Noritoshi’s brow rises. His dark hair framed the look of confusion that crossed his calm features. “Yuta, you smoke?”

The other guys look equally as puzzled.

Satoru gasps in offense at the thought of his little cousin hitting a blunt without him present. “Since when?” His widened blue eyes fix themselves on Yuta, his jaw dropping. He places his hand on his hip in offense. “And why haven’t you told me? We could’ve dragged you out for Weed Wednesdays!”

“No, it wasn’t me who smoked,” Yuta supplies, smiling awkwardly, raising his hands to wave them dismissively. “It was some other person in the bathroom.”

“Oh,” Satoru frowns, his parted mouth turning to a lopsided frown, then he shrugs. “Well, you’re still invited to Weed Wednesdays.”

“Thank you, Satoru,” Yuta chuckles, his focus a bit scattered as he thinks back to you. His lips pressed into a straight line, debating whether he should ask the question to his friends. He clears his throat, his expression pensive. The other men had fallen quiet, waiting for Yuta to speak. “I . . . actually had a question for you guys,” he murmurs.

With a soft exhale, Yuta finally utters your name and asks about you.

A small silence settles between the men, before Satoru speaks.

“I know her,” the snowy-haired man affirms, now fixing Yuta with that suspicious glint in his large crystalline blue eyes. “She’s a family friend.”

“All I know about her is that she’s loaded,” Toge supplies, shrugging. “She’s pretty. Don’t know too much about her though.”

“Yup,” Satoru affirms next to Noritoshi with a nod. “She’s a looker. Probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.” He kisses his teeth as he cocks his head to the side. “Love her and all. Known her since we were kids. Problem is she’s kind of a slut like I am.”

“And that’s saying a lot,” Noritoshi adds with a sigh, his dark eyes flickering over to the white-haired man next to him. “Satoru’s Instagram account pops up if you Google the word ‘slut.’”

Satoru hums along, taking a sip from the beer in his hand. “I like to call it being charming,” he clarifies with a grin.

“I don’t talk to her much, so I don’t really know,” Noritoshi adds on, ignoring Satoru. “I do see her occasionally at parties. She’s closer to Satoru and Suguru, so she’s more of a friend of a friend for me.” He hums for a bit, pensive. “She knows Aoi too.”

“Not intimately,” Aoi clarifies. “Our only close encounter was when she fingered my ass in the backseat of my car.”

Yuta is scandalized, and so are the other guys. So far, he had seen and heard about your involvement with three guys. Who knows how many there are? Yuta couldn’t believe that someone would be capable of being so . . . open.

Satoru frowns at his friend’s words, taking a respectable step away. “Wouldn’t you argue that being fingered in the ass is rather intimate?”

“No,” Aoi shook his head, looking completely sincere. “She never spoke to me after.”

“Ass game must’ve been weak,” Toge clicked his tongue.

“You try being fingered by her!” Aoi protests with a frown. He reaches over to steal Toge’s solo cup for himself, slotting it over his own cup that was empty by now, earning a complaint from the short man. “I don’t know what type of witchcraft she did but that was the first time I came just from having my ass played with. Say what you want about her but she knows what she’s doing.”

“Oh, right,” Satoru suddenly frowns, turning towards Suguru who had been suspiciously silent this entire time. He points an accusatory finger at the man. “Aren’t the two of you fucking, too?”

‘Too’? Yuta’s gaze shifts between Satoru and Suguru. What the hell?

“Not exclusively,” Suguru clarifies in that playful lilt of his smooth voice. He’s smiling in a charming way. “We fuck here and there.”

“Does she finger you, too?” Satoru asks curiously.

“Does she use toys?” Aoi pipes in.

“Alright!” Noritoshi interrupts, growing tired of his infantile friends. He exhales, pinching the bride of his nose, fixing the other men a flat stare. “Enough of Suguru’s sex life.” The other men glance away, seeming to be chastised. He turns towards Yuta. “The question is: why are you asking this?”

Yuta hesitates in answering long enough for Satoru to fill in the blanks himself.

“Don’t tell me that you’re interested in her,” he gasps. Before Yuta can open his mouth and explain that is not the case, Satoru is already talking in that dramatic voice of his. “Yuta, as your older cousin, I am warning you that she’s the witch they warn us about in the fairytales we read when we were kids! I advise you to stay far, far away from her.”

Aoi whistles in amusement, a teasing smirk on his lips. He leans in to give Yuta a nudge with his elbow. “Maybe Yuta's interested in breaking his virginity spell at last.”

“You’re not helping my case here,” Satoru deadpans, staring in disapproval. 

“The heart wants what it wants,” Aoi sing-songs. “And perhaps Yuta”—he pats the younger male’s shoulder—“like all men with fine taste do, like his women grown.”

Yuta is left speechless. Sure, he did, to some extent, find you attractive. He had working eyes. He can see all the appeal about you. You were pretty and rich. And a good lay in bed, apparently. But he wasn’t looking for that. He was sure as hell that he wasn’t the type of guy you messed around with. And he was certain that you weren’t the type of girl he was interested in.

“You have the wrong idea,” Yuta sighs, gently peeling Aoi’s large hand away from his shoulder. “Besides, you guys already know what I’m looking for in a relationship. I want something that’s—”

“We know, we know—you want pure love, marriage, a blue collar job, 5 kids, yeah, we get the picture,” Satoru finishes the sentence for him with a sigh, reciting it as if it came from his memory. “But seriously. I mean it. Don’t fall for it. For her. She’s bad news.”

Yuta nods absentmindedly, smiling awkwardly. Sure, Satoru had exaggerated some of the details, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Yuta gathers his thoughts, trying to place what exactly it was that he felt about you. Fear? Fascination? Attraction? Were you a novelty that Yuta was simply trying to wrap his head around?

Spring break came, and he hasn't seen you since that encounter in the bathroom. 

Yuta forgets you for a while. He went on about his life. Classes. Studying. The same old. But he unexpectedly meets you once again this time through Satoru’s spring break party at one of the Gojos’ beachside villas. Only a select group of people were invited. Close acquaintances of Satoru, including his friends and best friends, but even with the party being more selective, there were still easily 30 people at the party. Satoru Gojo was practically friends with everyone. Yuta often marveled at how the guy could keep up with all his friends.

Within the tall, three-story, Mediterranean-inspired architecture of the beachside villa. Yuta made his way to the kitchen. And there he finds you.

You were leaning against the marble kitchen island, a mimosa nestled between your manicured fingers. They were dyed a dark cherry red this time. You wore a white backless silk halter top, tied at the back of your neck with a silk bow that drooped, with a tiny white skirt. Your hair was tied up, and your lips shimmered with a cherry red that complimented the color of your nails. You wore complementary white kitten heels, and you were surrounded by a small group of people. 

One of the faces Yuta could make out was Suguru, who was leaning on the kitchen island next to you, his hand resting intimately at the small of your back. You were deep in conversation, occasionally sipping from your drink, leaning in closer to Suguru whenever he whispered something to you.

“Who are you looking at?”

Yuta jolts from his standing position, yelping in surprise before he turns to see Aoi standing beside him. The older male was dressed in some casual distressed jeans, black platforms, and a cream button up shirt that exposed a generous amount of his collarbones.

“What are you . . . ?” Yuta’s tiny voice trails off in surprise. 

Aoi’s expression has settled into one of those expressions. He’s wiggling his eyebrows playfully before glancing over in your direction and back at Yuta.

“It’s not like that!” Yuta leans in to whisper.

“Really?” Aoi raises a brow, suspicion dripping in his voice. “You mean it?”

“Yes!”

“Okay,” he shrugs, leaning forward to wrap his arm around Yuta’s back. “Let’s go over there and say hello, then.”

Yuta begins to panic. He protests quietly, but to no avail.

Aoi raises his spare hand, grinning brightly. “Suguru!” he calls out.

You and Suguru look back towards their direction, and Yuta swears he can feel himself momentarily stop breathing. Your gaze was fairly unreadable, but yet you were so pretty tonight that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Yuta wasn’t sure whether he wanted to drag Aoi to the beachside and toss his LV shoes in the chilling and dark waters out of anger, or to take the man out for a meal for being given the opportunity to look into your face.

“Aoi,” Suguru’s face lights up. His charming smile stretches further when he catches sight of Yuta. “And Yuta! Come on over.”

You simply sip at your mimosa, not saying a word, and Yuta lets himself get dragged by Aoi towards the group surrounding you. You continue to look impassively at Yuta, before your attention is swept away by Suguru who once again leans in to whisper something into your ear.

You chuckle at whatever it is he said. Your hands reach over behind Suguru’s head. Gazing into the male’s eyes, your fingers massage the back of his head, running your fingers through his chestnut hair. Everyone else seems to acknowledge that you and Suguru are set to disappear somewhere soon, but they pay no mind and continue to talk.

Yuta finds himself drawn to you. The visage of you, clad in all white. The kitchen’s lights and the way they dance against your features makes you seem angelic. He’s still not sure what this feeling is exactly. He’s never felt anything like this before. Did he want to be in Suguru’s place? Did he want your pretty fingers playing with his hair? Did he want your pretty eyelashes fluttering up at him?

You place your unfinished mimosa down on the kitchen island. Your hand reaches to grab Suguru’s wrist before you start to walk away, and he follows you in that practiced manner. As if this was something that always happened.

As you walk, you spare Yuta a small sideways glance, the barest of smiles graces your lips. You look away just as fast, and you disappear in the crowd.

“Look at them slipping away,” Aoi mutters next to Yuta’s ears. “They look like they’re leaving. Probably going to one of their cars and start fucking.”

“Does this always happen?” Yuta asks, furrowing his brows.

“Hmm,” Aoi pauses to think. “Not often? Well, at least, I don’t know everything that goes on. I see her in parties with Suguru and all and since they’re fucking it’s not weird that they slip away once in a while.”

Yuta can’t help but imagine what Suguru’s perspective would be in a few minutes’ time. Would you be straddling Suguru’s thighs in the backseat of your car? Would Suguru get to see your hooded eyes, looking down as you grind those hips on him? Would you let Suguru undo the ribbon of your halter top and play with your breasts? What sounds would you make if he did that? How would you look with your skirt hiked up, panties rubbing against his—

But Yuta quickly stops that thought, exhaling shakily.

Yuta must be afflicted with some odd illness, he decides. Because otherwise, he would not have followed you. 

The hood of your deep red convertible was pulled up, and from the distance that Yuta was at, he could see you sitting on Suguru’s lap through the car windows. Your halter top is undone, breasts freed as Suguru suckles on your breasts desperately. Your head is thrown back, little sighs escaping your lips.

Yuta doesn’t risk going any closer so he doesn’t get caught. So he remains at a distance, peeking just above the gate of the beachside villa to peer at the activity going on inside your parked convertible. He doesn’t hear any sounds due to the closed windows, but he does witness your body moving atop Suguru. You were smiling down at the dark-haired man, and Suguru’s head was thrown back against the seat.

You grab a pair of what seemed to be a tiny piece of black fabric, before you stuff it into Suguru’s mouth. Yuta watches with bated breath as he sees Suguru’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Not long after, you seem to be doing something with your hands that Yuta can’t quite see, causing the man beneath you to thrash around.

Was it from sensitivity? Yuta wondered. He’d never had sex so he never knew how it would feel. He’s jerked off, the usual, and he thought he was satisfied with that until he met his first girlfriend during high school. The furthest they’d ever gone was a kiss. Yuta was satisfied with that back then. He was content to wait until he found someone he truly loved. He wanted to have sex for the first time with his beloved girlfriend. He aspired for something pure. But since he’s met you, he finds his image of the future blurring. Now, looking at you, and how the men with you react in such a crazed way whenever you handle them—when you degrade and humiliate them—it stirs up an odd feeling within Yuta’s stomach. A feeling that’s familiar but he can’t quite place.

Now, he was certain that he was sexually attracted to you. That was the only possible way to explain why Yuta’s hands were trailing towards the tent in his pants, attempting to soothe it, find some sort of friction, to seek release.

Yuta wonders how good you’d make him feel if you ever allowed it. How good you’d feel straddling him. How good you’d smell. How good you’d look. How you’d speak to him. How you’d bend him to your will. He’s chasing that faint mint and cigarette smell. He wonders what it’s like when it’s mixed with sweat and the heat of your bodies. He wonders what it’s like for you to shove those pretty nails into his mouth to shut him up. He wonders what it’s like to let go and let you handle everything. He wonders what it’s like to peer up at your downturned face while trapped between the deathly grip of your plush thighs.

Yuta’s thoughts cease immediately when he glances at your direction. Your eyes bore into his once again through the window of your car. Those same hypnotizing eyes. Hazy, with the mimosa, maybe smoking, maybe with the high of sex, maybe with the high of being watched—or a mixture of everything. Yuta is too stunned to process the situation or move. Once again, you don’t seem to care if he moves or continues watching. 

A small lingering smile that doesn’t reach your eyes tugs at the corners of your glossy lips.

“You seem to have a habit of watching me.”

Yuta freezes in his position on the sidewalk by Satoru’s beachside villa. You’re driving your convertible, cigarette hanging at the corner of your lips, the embers burning bright as you inhale. You seem to be waiting for an explanation, and when Yuta doesn’t immediately provide one, you exhale the smoke right at his face.

He begins coughing, his hands rising to swat away the smoke from his face. You watch him passively as he does so. Yuta doesn’t know how to begin. How does he even explain the fact that he followed you and Suguru to a spot where he could see the both of you fuck? You must have thought he was a weirdo. But wait, aren’t you the weirdo too for not seeming to mind the presence of an audience? What the fuck was going on?

“So,” you probe, breaking his train of thought, “you like watching people have sex?”

Yuta lets out some sort of strangled noise. The notion you just suggested causes him to start coughing, and he’s bringing his fists to his mouth to muffle the sound of his coughs. You look unimpressed.

“You’re not even responding back,” you say, sounding somewhat bored, dangling your left arm on the sides of your convertible.

“. . . I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, his head lowered. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. He was certain his cheeks were flushed red. “I’m really sorry,” his voice was so faint and shaky, “I didn’t . . . mean to. I don’t know what went over me.”

You pause to consider this, inhaling your cigarette. Yuta knows this is just an excuse. A desperate one, but you don’t address it. Thankfully. After you exhale, you tap your cigarette against the side of your car to get rid of the excess.

“You don’t sound awfully sorry to me though?” you muse, a faint smile dancing on your glossy lips.

Yuta’s lowered head shoots up at your words. His cheeks flush red, and he’s sputtering over his words. His mind is blanking. His trembling lips part, opening and closing as if to say something, but nothing ever came out.

Your eyes narrow in mirth, your smile turning into a conniving one. “I like you,” you hum in amusement. “You’re cute.”

And that just about sent Yuta over. His ears were reddening now too, just a bumbling mess of a guy on the sidewalk. You? Liking him? A girl as pretty as you? There was no way.

Yuta’s mind is a mess. Confusion soon settles on his face, and he’s at a loss for words. “What?” he manages to stutter out.

“You heard me,” you hum cooly. Then you nod your head toward the direction of your passenger’s seat. “Hop in.”

“But—”

“But what?” you ask, glancing up at him. “You don’t have any plans tomorrow, do you?” You drop the cigarette in your free hand onto the pavement. Yuta stares at it as the embers die out, blending into the dull gray of the pavement.

Yuta finds his body moving immediately. He’s heading towards the passenger seat next to you, opening the door and settling himself inside. He’s conscious of the groups of people outside, who probably noticed the whole exchange between you and him. He wonders what they think, but that thought is immediately shut down as you’re stepping on the accelerator without a word.

Yuta is surprised by the sudden speed. Panicked, he’s clutching tight to the car door’s handle and carefully reaching for the seatbelts despite the gust of wind pushing his body back. A quick glance to your side shows that you’re not wearing a seatbelt, and before thinking, Yuta leans in and grabs the seatbelt from your side to fasten it.

“Seatbelt!” Yuta attempts to yell as much as he can despite the strength of the wind whipping past the both of you, rendering hearing more difficult than usual. To his chagrin, his voice came out more as a broken squeak.

You’re staring at him now, with that slight curl at the ends of your lips. Yuta reaches for your face and directs your head to face forward in panic, before he returns clutching onto the sides of the car for extra support.

A mere chuckle is all that leaves your lips. Nonetheless, you tap the button for the convertible hood to rise up once again. The car slows down significantly from its former speed, the chill breeze slowly fading away, the loudness of the cold night wind all disappearing as the convertible’s hood shuts. Silence fills the car, and you quietly raise both the windows before turning on the air conditioning.

You drive in silence for a bit, not going near the radio to turn on any sort of music. This vacancy of noise leaves Yuta with own thoughts to brew.

What was this situation? He finds himself pondering. Frantically searching for an answer. And where were they going? Were they just going to leave without letting Satoru and the others know? What was your intention?

“I can almost hear your thoughts, you know,” you say suddenly, reaching for another cigarette and slotting it between your lips. With your free hand, you grab a black lighter and quickly light the butt of your new cigarette, inhaling and exhaling the puffs of white. “Why? Do you not trust me?”

Panicked, Yuta stares at you as if you were some sort of weird creature. “Can you read minds?”

You crack a smile. “What do you think?” you probe, glancing over towards him, faintly fixing the cigarette in your lips with your fingers. “Of course, I can’t. But you might as well say your thoughts because your face is damn awful at hiding it.”

Yuta hesitates. “Where are we going?” he finally asks.

“Back to my place.”

Yuta is at a loss for words, stuttering. “W-Why are we—?”

“I’m going to fuck you, aren’t I?” you interrupt casually, glancing towards him. Yuta’s lips part in disbelief at your nonchalant words. Almost as if you were asking him a simple question instead of telling him you planned to fuck him. “Unless you wanted me to do that in Satoru’s villa?”

His ears begin to heat up at your blunt words. Yuta still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Were you always this blunt? Was this okay? Was he really going through with this? With someone he barely knew? Someone who he wasn't in a relationship with? Someone he didn’t love? Were you really going to . . . ?

You take his silence as an answer in itself.

“Thought so,” you seem pleased. “I much prefer the comfort of my own place. The car could’ve been an option.” You glance at him before returning your gaze towards the road. “But I decided against it.”

Yuta doesn’t say anything, but he quietly ponders. Were you being considerate of him since he saw you riding Suguru just a few hours ago in the very backseat of your car? Or did you just want to go back home? Was he ready for whatever it was you were about to drag him into?

You arrive at your apartment complex some twenty minutes later. It was in a high-scale urban area, the most expensive in the city, with you driving up towards a guardhouse beneath a very tall swanky apartment complex. You pull your window down, showing your face, and the guards immediately open the gates for you, allowing you to drive into the parking lot.

Yuta was in awe as you drove towards a parking spot next to numerous nice cars. Was this normal for swanky apartments? Yuta had never lived in the city so he had never experienced apartments located in the heart of the city, surrounded by all the buzz of nearby people in hot malls, expensive restaurants, flagship stores of designer brands, parks, museums, you name it.

You park safely, and step out of the car. Yuta hesitantly follows, closing the car door behind him. He glances up at you, a black bag of sorts slung on your shoulder. No doubt designer. Yuta just wasn’t fashion-savvy enough to pick up what brand because it didn’t have any logos, or if it did, he didn’t recognize it.

“Come,” is all you say, nodding your head towards the direction of the lobby.

Yuta follows you into the well-lit lobby. Marble floors, tall ceilings, gold fixtures on the walls, carefully curated plants. The lobby smelled nice as well. Like crisp sandalwood and fresh mint. It smelled somewhat like you. 

The silence between you makes Yuta feel the need to break it.

“Your place is . . . nice,” he lets out in a soft mutter.

You glance over towards him, raising a brow, before you let out a small laugh. “Yeah?” you probe, though you sound disinterested, almost as if you’ve heard this numerous times. “You like it?”

He nods, just as the elevator opens.

“Good,” you hum, seemingly satisfied. You start to walk into the elevator, with Yuta in tow.

The elevator was similar to the lobby. Tall and gold fixtures. A glance up revealed a vaulted ceiling with ambient lighting and a modern lighting fixture similar to a chandelier hanging in the center of the elevator. The elevator had a mirror wall with deep cerulean velvet designs, and Yuta could see his reflection in the mirror, standing next to you. He was aware that he was fairly tall, and he felt a small sense of confidence with how you were at the perfect height to nuzzle your head into his neck.

You scan some sort of card in the elevator. It must be a resident access card. Yuta’s stare lingers, widened. Yuta wasn’t rich by any means, but he knew enough to discern what was rich. Growing up with Satoru as his cousin, Yuta knew a lot about prominent wealth signifiers. His eyes follow your manicured fingers, reaching up to press the highest floor, of the 50 floors, called P.

It was a quiet elevator ride, and Yuta allows himself a close look at you. You look even prettier up close. His eyes settle and focus on your eyes, the curve of your nose, and the glossy surface of your lips.

The elevator opens before his thoughts stray any further, and Yuta is floored when he sees an apartment sprawled out before him instead of a hallway leading to the apartment. You step out, stretching a bit as you leave your purse on one of the couches laid around the spacious space.

Yuta follows slowly, and the elevator closes behind him. A quick look around the place shows Yuta a very large and spacious apartment. Bi-loft too, he guessed by the glass stairs on the other side, as well as the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave the apartment panoramic views of the night skyline.

“You have a floor to yourself?” he mutters to himself in astonishment, and you don’t say anything. You probably didn’t hear, you were making your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen looked like it came straight out of those luxury interior design magazines. A big island with five stools stood in the center of the kitchen. Dark marble countertops, top-of-the-line silver appliances, and a cabinet fridge? Yuta gawks as you open your very large fridge whose exterior blends in with the rest of the dark wood cabinets. You grab two bottles of water, placing them on the island.

“Want some water?” you suggest to Yuta, and the male walks over to you. 

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

“Sparkling or still?”

Yuta pauses momentarily, stares up at you and blinks. “Uh, just regular water?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “Still it is.”

You grab the bottles of water, putting them back inside the fridge. You take out two Evian bottles, handing him one.

“If you need to use the bathroom, it’s over there.” You point towards a direction near the stairs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Yuta nods hesitantly. Somehow he feels even more nervous. He empties the bottle you had handed to him, trying to rid himself of the dryness in his throat. 

He follows your directions afterwards, starting to amble over to the bathroom. He thought he needed to collect himself before anything eventful happened. He still couldn’t believe it. How was he in this situation with a woman like you? You were so pretty. One of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And now he was alone with you. In your apartment. He doesn’t know how anything is supposed to progress. You did briefly mention earlier that you had plans to fuck him. What exactly did that entail? Was it going to be like the time he saw you handling that man in the lecture hall by accident? The idea constricts his throat. He’s not certain whether he’s fearful or anticipating it. This wasn’t what he had envisioned. 

By the time Yuta makes it into your very spacious and large bathroom, he’s looking into the mirror, attempting to fix his appearance as best as he can. He’s grabbing his shirt, smelling it. He hopes he doesn’t smell bad. He reaches for the faucet, trying to shake off his anxiety.

“Her bathroom is the size of my dorm with Toge,” he mutters to himself, pumping foam into his hands. He finds himself looking around the bathroom. How much does this place even cost?

He wipes his hand off on one of the towels. He attempts to fix his appearance one last time before stepping out of the bathroom. When he steps out he hears the sound of the television running, and he walks over to the living room.

You’re sitting on a leather couch, still in the same clothes as before. There was a glass of what seemed to be red wine nestled between your slender fingers. The white halter top exposing your delicate back, that white miniskirt that shows a generous amount of your thighs.

You don’t say anything, eyes fixed on the television before you as you pick out a song to play. Yuta doesn’t know what it was, but he finds his eyes lingering at the hem of your skirt. He’s afforded a very generous view of your thighs, and he finds himself gulping away a lump in his throat that he hasn’t been aware was there.

“You’re back.”

Yuta jolts in surprise at your voice. You glance back at him, and he shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “Um, yeah,” Yuta murmurs. 

You cock your head to the side, raising your glass. You eye him as he stands across from you, his body stiff. “Want some wine?”

He makes a gesture to decline. “No, thank you.”

You shrug, not pushing the issue further. You sip on your wine, your fingers tapping your phone screen to change the music. The sound of your nails tapping against your screen and the faint thrum of the jazz music you were playing resounds in your large apartment for several moments, until you completely shut it off.

You close and then toss your phone to the other side of the couch you were on, exhaling. Then, your eyes regarded him as you crossed your legs.

“You’re a virgin, I take it?”

Yuta’s body froze at your sudden question. His eyes are large as they gaze back at you, his fingers tensing. His head lowers, his ears dusted red.

". . . Yes,” he admits softly.

A smile blooms on your face. “What’s the furthest you’ve gone, then?”

“A kiss with my first girlfriend,” Yuta murmurs.

“Cute,” you hum, setting your glass of wine down on the small table beside the couch. “Did you like it?”

He raises his head and blinks at you.

“The kiss,” you clarify.

". . . I did,” he murmurs. “I really liked her. I was happy that we kissed.”

“Yeah?” you hum, cocking your head to the side. You gesture for him to approach. “Come here. Why are you standing so far away?”

Yuta follows with a hesitance in his steps, stopping just a foot away from you. You gaze up at him expectantly, a pleased curl on your lips.

“On your knees,” you hum.

Yuta glances at you, and he doesn’t utter a word. Quietly, one knee of his sinks, before the other follows, until he’s kneeling before you. He gazes up at you with those big hazy eyes, as if you hung the stars. You reach out a hand, cupping the side of his face. His face leans into your palm, his eyes closing in contentment. Your thumb caresses the smooth skin of his face, and his sleepy eyes open, gazing up at you reverently.

Your thumb presses harder, caressing the plushness of his lips. You part his lips with your thumb, sticking it in. He gazed up at you, his tongue lapping up at your finger. You hum in satisfaction, digging your thumb in deeper and pressing your sharp nail down on his tongue. You relish in the prick of pain that pinches at his brow, and he gazes up at you, almost pleading, but he doesn’t pull away.

You lean down until your face is merely inches away from his own, relishing in his sad pretty eyes. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?” you whisper. “Being treated like this?”

Unable to speak a word with your thumb in his mouth, Yuta settles for a nod of his head. The sight has you exhaling in satisfaction. You pluck your thumb away from his mouth, strings of drool connecting from your thumb to his soft lips. 

He’s dazed, still not believing that this is happening. That he’s here, kneeling before you, your hands on him, his face mere inches away from your own. Was he actually liking this? Being with a woman he didn’t love and didn't love him back. Being with someone he wasn’t dating. Being subjected to degrading treatment. You lean in towards his neck, inhaling his scent as your hands travel from his chest to his arms.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” you coo, your heeled feet rubbing through the fabric of his jeans.

Yuta’s breath hitches, your words dawning on him. Was this seriously about to happen? You’re right before him, waiting for him.

Hesitantly, his hands reach for the waist of his jeans, unbuttoning them before he’s pushing them down to his knees. You don’t assist him, opting to remain to gaze at him, silently studying his expression. He’s left in his shirt and his dark gray boxers, kneeling before you.

“Go on,” you hum.

Yuta begins to reach for his crotch, hands pushing down his boxers so his erect cock slaps against his stomach. His shirt covers part of his cock, and you reach for the shirt, tugging it up.

“Remove your shirt,” you order. “Show me how pretty you are.”

The shirt’s tossed to your floor not long after, and Yuta kneels before you, his toned body on display before you. He finds himself wanting to shrink, unsure what to make of that perpetual smile of amusement on your lips. Do you like what you see? Are you making fun of him? Yuta wants to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Your hands reach for his face, commanding his attention back to you. Your fingers trace the strands of his hair, playing with them in a way Yuta enjoys, despite how he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Touch yourself,” you order, gaze drifting down to his hardened cock.

Yuta doesn’t know why his dick isn’t deflating from this situation. Does he just enjoy having you watch him? Is it because you’re so close to him? Was he secretly an exhibitionist?

His hands begin to trace his cock, grabbing the base before he begins pumping his fingers. It was a bit difficult with not much lubrication to help him out, so Yuta reached for his mouth, spitting into his mouth before redirecting the spit onto his cock. It makes pumping his cock a bit easier, and Yuta lets himself relax more.

“Who do you think of when you touch yourself?”

The question from you is unexpected, slowing down the strokes of his fingers. Yuta is quiet, at a loss for what to say. You’re looking at him expectantly, awaiting an answer. Like you’re certain he has one.

“Do you think of me?” you probe, grinning. “Do you imagine your hand as my hand, jerking you off? Maybe it’s my mouth?”

Yuta lowers his head, avoiding your gaze. He considers his current position. He was in your apartment. Almost butt-naked. Kneeling down before you in your living room with his hand wrapped around his dick. He didn’t see how he could lie to you given how his cock was quite obviously rising just at the sight of you.

“. . . I do,” he quietly admits, turning his head to the side to avoid your heated gaze.

“Did you ever think this would happen?” you ask him, letting your manicured nails run through the tufts of his dark hair. “Being in my apartment, touching yourself off in front of me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

A meek response. “I just don’t think I’m your type,” he admits. “I heard that you’re . . . with Suguru.”

There’s a grin on your lips. “You’ve asked about me.” 

His cheeks burn. “I don’t mean to be creepy about it! I was just curious about—”

“No need to stress about it,” you interrupt him, fingers caressing his thigh. His hands tighten around his cock. “Suguru and I just fuck occasionally. Do I look like the type to date?”

Yuta shakes his head. “I heard from Satoru that you’re not the type,” he admits breathily, gazing up at you. “He told me I should stay away from you.”

You throw your head back in laughter, a pretty little laugh leaving your lips. “That bastard’s always cockblocking me.”

Yuta finds himself admiring your face. The way the smile reaches your eyes this time. He’s momentarily dazed.

“So?” your voice pulls him back to the present. “Are you planning on staying away?”

He’s staring at you, the swell of your lips, and the amused twinkle in your eye. His hand slows to a stop around his cock.

“I don’t know,” is all Yuta was able to say.

“Yuta,” you murmur softly, in that low tone that has him hypnotized. “If you really wanted to stay away, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Yuta doesn’t respond for a few moments. His throat feels dry, and he’s unable to rebut your statement. Your fingers reach for his lips, your thumb ghosting over his bottom lip as you gaze at his lips. Yuta attempts to read your face. He finds it unsettling how you don’t allow any readable emotion to settle on your face. That is until he sees a satisfied smile stretch across your lips.

Satisfied with his silent acquiescence, you dip your heeled feet down, caressing his cock. With a grin on your lips, you watch as Yuta twitches in his kneeling position as you begin to stroke him with your foot, teasing his sensitive tip. Yuta pulls his own hand away from his base, gazing up at you with a hitch in his breath.

“So cute,” you coo appreciatively, gazing down at his pretty cock. The tip was slender and flushed an adorable pink, with some veins decorating the shaft. The thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock is trimmed neatly. He was cute. A decent size and girth.

Yuta clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasps leaving his lips. You begin to apply more pressure to his cock, and he peeks down to see that the sole of your heels fully presses down on the base. The pressure earns another round of moans from him, which are muffled by his hand.

“Continue covering your mouth and I’ll gag you myself,” you threaten.

Yuta reluctantly lets his hands fall to his thighs, gripping them hard as he moans from the mixed pain and pleasure of your feet on his cock. You resign yourself to stroking his cock with your feet, smiling in amusement as you continue your strokes.

Yuta can’t believe how he’s actually enjoying this. Such a degrading act. Your heels practically step on his hardened cock, as if you couldn’t bother touching it yourself. As if he didn’t deserve even being touched by you.

“So sensitive,” you muse as you play with his reddened tip, caressing it languidly as you stare at his flushed face. “Your girlfriend never touched you like this?”

Yuta nods, his chest heaving up and down.

You scowl. “Answer me with your voice.”

Yuta answers in between stuttered gasps. “N-no, you’re the first one.”

“Good,” you hum pleasantly. “Does it feel good? Being stepped on like this?”

Another meek nod, and a shaky whisper. “Yes.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, leaving Yuta to wonder if that turned you off. Then, he glances up, noticing you gazing down at him with something he can’t read simmering in your eyes. Then, your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss.

The kiss is completely unlike what he had experienced before. If the kiss he shared with his first girlfriend was brief and chaste—almost innocent—then the only way he could describe kissing you was intoxicating. 

Yuta can taste a mixture of cigarettes, red wine, and cherry from your chapstick. He feels your warm tongue moving, swiping against his bottom lip. His mind blanks, his lips moving against yours automatically. You kiss like you want to deprive him of air. Like you want to swallow him whole until he’s nothing but a putty mess. Your hands travel down to grip the sides of his face, and Yuta finally allows his hands to travel. With your guidance, his hands settle on your plush thighs, gently squeezing it. He groans into your lips as he touches you. He still can’t believe it. That this is happening. That he’s actually touching you. You’re impossibly soft. He swears he’s in heaven.

Yuta chases after your lips when you briefly pull away. He wasn’t aware that a kiss could be like this. Why was he suddenly aware of what to do? You taste so good. You smell divine. He feels like he’s drowning in you. He wants to drown in you. He wants to receive all of your affection. He wants to be the object of your attention.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he finds himself muttering against your lips.

You chuckle into his lips, pulling away with a pop as you pause to undo the ribbon holding your halter top up. Yuta gawks as the fabric falls and reveals your bare breasts to him. You reach for his hands and direct them to grab your breasts. Yuta’s hands were rather large, and they effectively cupped most of your breasts. He gently squeezes them, earning a small sigh of pleasure from you.

He’s tentative in his movements, gazing up at you to check whether you’d stop him. He fondles them gently, before his movements before firmer, his hazy eyes focused on the way your supple skin moved under his fingers.

“How eager,” you comment, your hands stroking his hair, your fingers tangling through the dark tufts of his hair. You pull his hair back, forcing him to gaze up at you while he knelt before you. A glimmer of satisfaction flickers in your irises, before you push his head down to your thighs.

Yuta is puzzled, but his eyes follow the very short hem of your skirt. The sight of your bare thighs makes his cock ache, and with a little grin, you spread your thighs, revealing your bare cunt. He freezes as a realization dawns on him. You didn’t have panties on since this entire time. Yuta is too stunned to say anything. He thinks back to the time in the car. Through the entire exchange.

“Let’s see exactly how eager you are, hmm?” you propose with an amused glint in your eyes. “You’ve been hungry all this time, I’d be a bad host if I didn’t let you eat.”

Yuta hesitantly grabs the smooth surface of your thighs. His chest is heaving up and down. He still can’t believe this is happening. You’re so warm. You smell divine. Your cunt looks so pretty. He wants nothing more than to dive in. 

“Never eaten pussy before, right?” you query, gazing down at him.

Yuta doesn’t respond, his mind almost blanking.

“That’s okay,” you hum. “I’ll lead you through it. You begin by teasing the clit.” Your fingers go down to demonstrate, pressing down and massaging it in circles. A small sigh leaves your lips, before you continue. “Use your saliva. The wetter the better. It’ll make it easier for later.”

Your fingers reach towards Yuta’s mouth, doused with your slick.

“Suck,” you order him.

He obeys, wrapping his lips around your fingers. 

“Spit.”

Yuta follows suit, and your eyes narrow fondly. 

“Good boy.”

Your fingers, now slicked with Yuta’s spit, move towards your clit, and you massage it in, your head thrown back as your fingers dip inside your sopping cunt. “You do it just like this,” you say between heavy breaths. Your fingertips rub over the delicate nub of your clit, flicking over the hood of the bud. “Slowly. Take your time.”

Yuta is mesmerized. His saliva was on your cunt. You were touching yourself in front of him, mewling softly, exposed all for him. He watches your red nails dipping inside of you, and he finds his fingers reaching further up your thighs.

“Can I?” he asks, his weeping cock pulsating.

Pausing, you regard him with a look, before pulling your fingers away from your clit. You gaze down at him expectantly.

“Go on then.”

Yuta leans in closer after you give him permission, his fingers ghosting your cunt, before he starts to massage the bud, his finger occasionally dipping inside. You’re evidently wet by now. Yuta still can’t wrap his head around what was happening. You were gasping before him, with his fingers inside of you.

The slow, squelching sound of his fingers going inside of you is obscene. Your sounds are sweet and angelic, and they only serve to further encourage Yuta in maintaining his pace as his finger pumps into you. He’s leaning down now, burying his head between your cunt and licking at it. He’s sucking and nibbling as his fingers bring you to your high. He is clearly inexperienced, but the desperation in his tongue’s movements more than made up for it. You gaze down in arousal, seeing his pretty puppy eyes gazing up at you in adoration as his needy mouth laps up at you. He was a starving man partaking in your essence. Your thighs quiver at the sight, and you wanted nothing more than to ruin Yuta Okkotsu.

Your fingers tangle in Yuta’s dark hair. “Keep going.”

That encourages Yuta further. By now his nose is digging into your cunt, continuing his relentless sucking and fingering. He swears you’re intoxicating. He wasn’t aware that pussy tasted like this. Or was it just you? He was finally getting a taste of what he’s thought of before. The sight of you gazing down at him with his head buried between your heavenly thighs. Yuta doesn’t even know what’s happening to him. He was desperate for you. Desperate for your approval. He believes he can have this one experience and jerk off to it for the rest of his years.

One particular suck causes your thighs to clench around Yuta’s head, a melodic moan leaving your lips. You grip his head, pulling him to your cunt. You moan softly as you grind your hips onto his starved mouth. His spare hand travels down your thigh, massaging them before they settle on the swell of your hips. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m close,” you let out in stuttered gasps. “Keep going. Don’t speed up or slow down.”

Yuta obeys. His tongue continues at that same pace, sucking on your clit as his fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. His tongue flicks at the pearl of your clit, leaving at it like a starving puppy. True to your word, your grip tightens on his hair, and you cum on his tongue. Yuta stops and gladly drinks up your cum, earning moans from you as you squirm in his hold.

Yuta licks you clean, and he looks up, panting heavily. He looks like a delicious mess. Puppy eyes widened, hazy with arousal, eager for your approval and praise. Face smeared with your slick, his sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead.

You offer him a tired smile, leaning down so you can kiss him properly. Yuta obliges, closing his eyes as you suck on his tongue, your heeled feet gliding down to his hard cock. His hands settle at your waist, before they move down to your ass, squeezing them as you smile against his lips.

Pulling away from him, your fingers run down the fabric of his shirt.

“Take this off,” you order.

He obliges with a nod, shedding the fabric on your living room floor, leaning his body under your watch. Your eyes admire his build appreciatively, not having expected him to be this well-built. Your hands reach for his shoulders, fingers slowly trailing down the expanse of his toned chest and arms. Your hands settle at his nipples, smiling up at him before you press a kiss to them.

“So cute,” you murmur. “You’re only good for me, aren’t you?”

God, Yuta will only be good for you if you let him. He nods obediently, opting to keep his mouth shut so moans don’t leave his lips.

“I asked you a question.” The smile drops on your pretty face. Your voice is more clipped this time. Your hands grip his chin firmly, harsh enough that the crescents of your nails etch themselves onto his supple skin. “When asked a question, you give an answer.”

“Y-yes,” Yuta manages to utter out in a voice barely above a whisper. His pretty eyes gaze up at you reverently. “I’m only good for you. Wanna be your good boy.”

You hum, seemingly satisfied. “I know,” you coo softly, your soft hands running through his hair. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

His pleading pretty eyes, widened and glassy from arousal. His face rests on your plush thighs, gazing up at you like a needy puppy. His hips buck desperately into the air, his weeping cock twitching.

His lips part, his words almost a whine.

“P-please,” he pleads. “Let me feel you.”

Mirth dances in your eyes. “Feel me how?” you whisper. “Use your words.”

“Please let me make love to you,” he whispers, his ears flushing red.

“Make love?” There’s an amused lilt to your voice. “You’re going to make love to me, pretty boy?”

“If you’d let me,” he exhales breathily, gazing up at you. His body trembles, thrumming from anticipation and arousal all at once.

“Up on the couch,” you hum, patting the seat next to you.

Yuta nods his head, immediately rising and sitting down on the couch. He gazes at you with dilated pupils, breaths heavy as you push his pants down, letting it pool at his feet.

You rise before him, pushing your skirt up. Your head cocks to the side, gazing down at him in amusement as you straddle him. Your sopping wet cunt brushes against his flushed cock, and Yuta’s body is trembling at the brief contact.

“Is this what you wanted?” you coo softly, rubbing the lips of your cunt against his cock.

Yuta’s body trembles beneath you on the couch. His chest heaves up and down, his eyes glistening as he gazes up with you.

“Y-yes,” he babbles out breathily. “P-please. Please. Want you. Want to feel you. Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” you whisper into his ear, leaning down to pepper feathery kisses on his neck. Your soft hand reaches down, gripping his base, aligning him properly.

Yuta’s stomach dips in anticipation, his thighs quivering as he feels his tip pressing against the slick lips of your pussy. You smile wryly into his neck as you slide down onto him.

All the air is knocked out of Yuta’s chest. His dreamy eyes roll into the back of his head. Warmth. Overwhelming warmth. It wraps around everywhere. And so tight. It grips him so tight he swears he's ascending. It was nothing compared to his hand. The weight of your body on top of him. The tickle of your hair. The sensation of your soft lips pressing to his neck. You smelled divine. You felt divine. It was too much. Your walls are pulsing around him. It was warm. Yuta swears he’s on fire.

Yuta whines.

You hum softly at the stretch, pulling back to look at his face. Yuta’s face is flushed red, his eyes glassy and lost, utterly debauched.

“Feels good?” you coo softly.

He nods his head weakly. “Y-yes,” he mumbles faintly, almost incoherent. He sounds like he’s on the verge of sobbing. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper softly, resting your hands around his neck, tangling in the locks of his hair.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you’re moving your hips. You watch in delight as Yuta’s mewling and gasping beneath you. His hands shakily hold onto your gyrating hips. White hot pleasure fills his vision. He’s sputtering, mewling, whining like a needy puppy. It’s too much. Way too much. Hot tears prick his blown out eyes. That heat simmers in his stomach, a familiar coil snapping.

He cries out pathetically as he cums immediately. Your sneer deepens as you feel the thick strings filling you.

Yuta’s head slumps back on the leather couch, exhaling heavily.

Your hand rests at the juncture of his throat, pressing down. Your voice is a low snarl. “Did I give you permission to cum?” 

Yuta’s glassy eyes flicker up to you in panic. His soft lips part, his body flushed prettily.

“‘m s-sorry,” he whispers out, his voice cracking faintly. “I couldn’t—it was too g-good—I’m sorry I couldn't hold back.” He’s crying now, tearing up as he gazes up at you. “P-please forgive me.”

You roll your hips. Yuta’s eyes widen, a sharp gasp leaving his lips. Extreme sensitivity runs through his limbs, sending him into overdrive. He whines, his hips stuttering as you ride his poor cock.

“I-it’s too m-much,” he whines out, crying so pathetically, so prettily. “P-please, I can’t–hah!”

“You’ll shut up and take it,” you scowl, riding him. You bounce on his cock, moaning softly. “You wanted to cum without telling me? This is your punishment.”

“F-forgive me,” Yuta mewls softly, his hands trembling in a weak attempt to slow down the movement of your hips. But he’s lost at this point. “Please. I-I just wanted to be—ngh—good for you.”

“Yeah?” you whisper breathily. “Wanna be good for me? Then stay fucking still. You wanted to cum, didn’t you? Go on.” Your hands pull at his hair. “Cum again.”

Yuta’s sobbing by now, his hands gripping onto the flesh of your hips as you rode him. Used him like a fucking dildo. It was too much. Way too much. Yuta’s mind was blank. It was overwhelming. The clamping of your walls. The slick pooling down his shaft. The creamy mess of his cum swirling inside of you.

“I-I can’t!” he cries out.

Your hands tighten around his neck, applying pressure to the juncture of his windpipe. Yuta’s eyes roll back into his head. His stomach was tensing. His chest heaving. His cock being hugged by the tight and plush embrace of your cunt’s walls. It was so good it was bordering on painful. This isn't making love. This was far from it. 

“You’re going to fucking cum,” you snarl.

Yuta’s hot tears stains his flushed cheeks, his lips trembling as soft gasps left his lips. Your hand continues to press down at his throat, before you lean in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Yuta feels faint. He’s lightheaded. He’s whining, gasping, mewling. He can’t breathe. It’s like you’re intent on draining everything out of him. All he can feel is the warm embrace of your cunt. The softness of your body. Your fingertips pressing down on his throat. Your lips, your tongue swirling against his own. The taste of wine on his lips. The sweet powdery scent tinted with cigarettes. The beads of sweat forming between your warm bodies.

With a cry, Yuta cums again. He’s sobbing, and you pull away from the kiss. He breathes in oxygen, whining pathetically as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you. You moan softly, clamping down on his walls. 

Yuta’s head slumps back against the couch. The fringes of his dark hair stick to his forehead, beads of sweat running down his face. His eyes are blurry, both from his tears and sweat. 

You admire the sight of him. So weak. So pathetic. So pliant.

He looks so pretty like this. Crying. Those pretty puppy eyes, lined by bags, irises blown wide, gazing at you as if you were a walking goddess.

You lean in, licking up the tears on his cheek. You relish in the salty taste, the faraway haze in Yuta’s eyes. How his thick lashes flutter slowly.

Slowly, you lift yourself off of him. Yuta hisses in sensitivity as his cock drags out of your walls, gazing down at his spent cock. It’s covered in a thin sheen. The patch of trimmed hair at the base of his cock is smeared in cum.

“Lay back,” you hum.

Sluggishly, Yuta nods. He shifts on the couch, laying down on his back. His pretty eyes gaze up at you. You smile at him, moving to hover your cunt over his face.

Yuta’s breath hitches at the sight of your cunt under your skirt, smeared with his cum. You kneel on the sides of his shoulders, facing his stomach. You gaze over your shoulder, lowering your cunt to his lips.

“Clean up your mess,” you order.

His mouth moves automatically, his tongue lapping up at the frothy mess of your cunt. His lips are shiny, kissing and flicking his tongue. You moan softly, grinding your cunt onto him.

Your soft hand reaches down, reaching for his soft cock. You wrap your hand around it, your fingertips brushing against the tender skin. You can feel Yuta’s body jolt briefly upon your touch, his tongue halting momentarily as he whines into your pussy. You sneer in satisfaction, leaning in to kiss the tip of his soft cock. It twitches in your hand, the tip a pretty shade of pinkish red. You lick your lips, leaning in and dragging your tongue up the shaft.

Yuta gasps into your cunt, his soft hands gripping onto the flesh of your thighs. His thighs quiver as your tongue laps at him. Your hands pump him, relishing in how he whines into your pussy.

You tighten your grip around his cock when he stops moving his mouth. Yuta gasps, and despite the tears pricking his eyes, he laps up at your pussy in a daze. He’s certain he must be drunk. Drunk on you. On the feel of you. 

You smile as your hands pump his cock, watching as it twitches, soft and spent. It looks so pretty. One of the prettiest cocks you’ve seen.

You lift yourself off of Yuta’s mouth. He gazes up, dazed, confused at the sudden loss of contact with you. 

“Sit up,” you order.

His trembling body obeys, sitting up on the couch. You settle behind him, pressing your breasts against his back. Your hand wraps around his cock from behind, pumping him as your lips graze his ear. You can feel Yuta shiver from your touch, melting into you. 

“I-I’m still sensitive,” he whines out in between stuttered breaths. “I can’t—”

“You can’t?” you mock him. “Should I stop touching you then?”

“No!” His protest is quick, a sob that bleeds into a whine. Despite the burning sensitivity. The flicker of pain, he finds that the thought of you pulling away is more painful. “P-please, don’t stop.”

“No?” you sneer. 

His breath is shaky, his hips quivering. It was too much. The sensitivity was bordering on pain. His muscles are taut. His chest heaving up and down.

Your free hand reaches up to cup his chest, your fingertips brushing against his nipple. You pinch it, twisting. Your hand continues pumping his cock, your thumb playing with the slit of his tip.

This earns a shudder from Yuta, who mewls at the sensation. “N-no more, please,” he mumbles out, exhaling, his entire body trembling. “‘s t’much—mph!”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you whisper, your warm breath brushing over his glistening neck.

Yuta’s mind is foggy. There was too much going on. Your fingers pinching and twisting at his nipple, your soft hand pumping his cock and thumbing at his leaky tip, your soft lips on the curve of his neck, the low whispers into his ear.

His lips are parted, soft whines constantly slipping out. His eyes are scrunched shut, his lips trembling. He was moaning, his head tipping forward. He was drooling at this point, his lips and chin smeared with the sticky trail of saliva.

“So fucking pathetic,” you coo, your tone almost a sneer. “I haven’t even finished and you’re already fucked out?”

His glassy eyes gaze back at you, tearing up from the overstimulation. He tries to say something, but it slips out as a weak murmur, an unintelligible whimper.

Then he feels it. The tense coil in his lower stomach. That familiar pressure. His face heats up. He’s shaking his head weakly, the stuttering of his hips increasing. His muscles are contracting, his cock feeling almost painful.

“N-no—ah!—stop,” his airy voice protests, “p-please—’m gonna p-pee!” He sobs out.

Something close to surprise crosses over your features for a split second, before it’s replaced by a malicious curl of your lips and the pleasant narrowing of your eyes.

Yuta expects you to let go of him. He surmises that he’ll be embarrassed, running over almost butt-naked to your bathroom so he can pee and awkwardly interrupt the both of you. He wants to disappear, to crawl into a whole. He’s certain he’s absolutely blown it with you. Made a fool of himself all because he can’t control his fucking bladder. He’s crying freely, warm tears decorating his flushed cheeks, sniffling. 

But your hold tightens even more around his cock. Your breasts press against his back, feeling the trickle of his sweat.

“Do it,” you purr into his ear. “Make a mess.”

Yuta’s stomach dips.

“Nonono, p-please no, I can’t!” he cries, coming close to the precipice. He can feel the pressure on his bladder. He’s doing his damnedest best to hold back. “‘s too m-much! I’m not—”

“You will,” you never ask, you demand.

Yuta sobs out, his tears trickling down his cheeks onto his chest as he finally breaks. The stream of liquid shoots out, and you grin in mischief as you watch him make a mess on the leather couch. The warm liquid trickles down to your fingers that were wrapped around his cock. His body is trembling, his cheeks and ears red, wailing softly. 

You grin in sick satisfaction, a shiver running through your body at the sight of Yuta putty in your arms, crying. Wrecked. Absolutely humiliated.

“So fucking dirty,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his ear from behind him.

Yuta’s eyes are closed shut, his face burning furiously. His body is trembling, his soft cock drooling. Your damp fingers grip his chin, almost bruising.

“Open your eyes and look at the mess you made,” you scowl.

Yuta’s eyes peel open. His rich dark lashes are bunched together with his tears, his eyes swollen and reddened, gazing down at the mess he made of the couch. His piss, soaking the throw pillows, collecting on the leather of the couch. His eyes are blurring with a new onslaught of warm, salty tears.

“How’s it feel, hm? Pissing all over my couch like a damned dog?” you hum, letting go of his chin and playing with the slit of his tip with your fingertips.

Yuta shivers under your touch, with the sensation of your body pressed against his back. “‘m s-sorry,” he whispers out, so faint you could barely hear it. His traitorous body was acting on its own. “I-I’m so sorry. I—“

“You don’t sound all that sorry to me,” you muse, feeling his cock harden under your strokes. Your thumb runs down a vein on his shaft. “You’re getting hard after that?” A sneer. “You like pissing on yourself?”

He shakes his head limply, sniffling softly as he cries. “N-no,” he protests weakly. “I didn’t m-mean to. I—“

“For a virgin, you’re such a slut,” you murmur into his neck. 

Yuta shivers at your voice. 

You shift positions, pulling away and shoving him down to lay on his back on the couch. He falls back with a soft thud, his wide teary eyes gazing up at you. His cock stands tall, and you regard him with a sneer as you hover above him, gripping his cock and aligning it with your cunt. You rub his flushed tip against the lips of your pussy, relishing in how his expression falters, how soft sighs leave his lips.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you coo, watching how his pretty eyes gaze up at you, misty with tears. “So pathetic.” You sink down on him, gasping softly at the intrusion, but your eyes remain trained in how Yuta’s eyes blow wide, how his lips part, how his brow furrows, how his hand balls into fists. 

“‘m n-not—“

“You like this, don’t you?” you purr, his words dying in his throat as you roll your hips, watching how he thrashes in sensitivity, his thighs stuttering under you. “Being used like a dildo.”

You throw your head back, moaning softly as you rock your hips. You drag his cock through your spongy walls, relishing in how it curves and bends, sticking and rubbing against you. Yuta whimpers beneath you, gasping out as you use him without a care. He’s throbbing with sensitivity, but he can’t bring himself to stop. His eyes drink up the sight of your pleased expression, your soft lips parted as you moan softly, dragging his weeping cock in and out of your walls with slow strokes.

This isn’t making love, Yuta thinks through teary eyes, but it felt heavenly. His hips buck up into you as you ride him, addicted to the feeling of your warm and tight cunt.

There’s no love in this, but he thinks he just might grow to love you. The sight of you riding him, how your pretty breasts bounce, how your pretty face twists as you use him for your own pleasure—it was too much. His spent, misty eyes gaze up at you, white prickling his vision from the extreme sensations.

There’s no love in the way you ride him, the way your fingers come down to grip his beaded face. His dark fringes stick to his forehead, his body glistening. You lean down, continuing to fuck yourself using his cock, parting his mouth with your thumb. A cruel smile stretches on your lips, and even through the hazy pleasure, Yuta thinks you look beautiful. You spit in his mouth, watching as the glob of spit gathers on his tongue. Yuta cries out softly, still tearing up, but you see the way his throat swallows. How he takes it all. All that you give him.

This isn’t making love, but Yuta’s cumming again, sobbing out your name as he comes deep inside of you.

“—to Yuta? Earth to Yuta? Hello?” A voice slowly fades in from a dull ringing in his hazy head, snapping Yuta out of his reverie.

He blinks rapidly, rousing himself from his disoriented state, suddenly remembering that he was at a cafe near the university with his roommate, Toge. Yuta glances down at his opened laptop, the cursor of an opened Word document blinking back at him. He was doing an assignment for one of his elective classes, though he didn’t have much progress done. 

“Dude, your coffee’s been ready at the counter for like ten minutes,” Toge says, his brows pinched together. His face is illuminated by the screen of his own laptop before him. He tilts his head, appraising his friend who sat across from him. “You okay?”

Yuta slowly nods his head. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He rises from his seat, trying to offer his friend a reassuring smile. “I just haven’t slept well because of the exams coming up.”

A half-truth, really. He was both occupied with both the exams looming over him, and the haunting visage of your pretty face gazing—no, sneering—down at him as you sank down on his cock. 

Toge gives his friend an odd look, but to Yuta’s relief, doesn’t press further. Yuta exhales, making his way over to the coffee counter, apologizing softly to the worker who he presume has been calling his name periodically for the past several minutes as he retrieves his warm cup of coffee.

It’s been a week since he last saw you. Since that fateful evening occurred. Yuta hasn’t stopped thinking about it since then. He also hasn’t heard of you since. Your social media accounts were all private. You hadn’t offered him your number, either. He had no way of contacting you. 

He sighs softly to himself, ambling back to sit across his friend with his hot caramel macchiato. He blinks at his dark laptop screen, and he logs in again. He brings his lips to his coffee cup, his tired eyes gazing out at the window of the booth they sat next to.

His lips still, his breath catching in his throat as he catches the familiar white snowy tufts of hair belonging to none other than his cousin, walking on the street.

Satoru Gojo was dressed in a black turtleneck, stretched around his broad shoulders and toned frame, dark gray slacks adorning his long legs, to black leather loafers. He had one strong arm wrapped around the waist of a woman walking next to him. They slow to a stop, and the woman takes her ringing phone out of her purse. When the woman turns to the side, pulling away briefly from Satoru’s clingy touches, Yuta’s throat dries up.

It was you.

Your lips were moving, speaking to the person on the phone. Satoru’s large hands trail down from behind you, resting at the swell of your hips. He’s almost clingy, a small pout on his face as you continue your phone call. Yuta can almost hear the complaint tumbling from the snowy-haired man’s lips. Your face is passive as he does so, gazing out to the side. Your lips part, conversing absentmindedly, before your eyes bore past the window of the cafe.

Yuta stills on his seat in the cafe’s booth as you make direct eye contact. Your pretty eyes widen slightly for the briefest moment at the sight of him, before they narrow fondly. A small, languid smile stretches on your plush lips. Yuta’s chest pumps erratically, his stomach sinking. 

Satoru stands behind you, none the wiser to the clandestine look you were exchanging with Yuta, his head lowering into your neck. His long fingers toy with the belt loops of your mini skirt.

[ethelcainlvr]

Wicked Game Pt 2 - Armando Aretas

Armando Aretas x Black! OC (Helena)

Part 1

After each fight, he’d sit down at the bar, cuts and scratches littered on his face and arms, discoloring his perfectly tan skin.

They’d exchanged naught but a few words since he popped up three months ago, most of them pertaining to whatever drink he ordered, his low raspy voice sending shivers down her spine all the same.

That all changes one evening.

It’s a few hours before Spades opens for the night. Despite the fact that she’s off for the day, Helena makes her way through a back entrance. She waves to the bartender in her place once she’s inside, along with a few of the dancers she’s come to know, all getting ready for the long night ahead. 

Javier’s “office” (she’s yet to see any work being done) is crowded like usual. His posse is gathered around the pool table, playing, drinking, talking. 

Helena notices him first. His reserved demeanor is a stark contrast to the crew he’s with. 

Helena watches Armando, settled on the arm of a chair right beside Javier. His eyes find hers quickly, as they tend to do, like he can sense her or something. He smiles, raising the bottle of beer to his full lips. 

The sound of her own name breaks Helena out of her trance. Javier’s in front of her all of a sudden, blocking Armando from her view. He’s staring at her expectantly, a question in his furrowed brows, giving Helena the impression she’s completely ignored something he’s said.

“I got what you asked for,” she supplies, taking her best guess. 

In lieu of a response he steps her out with her into the hall. The overlapping chatter and underlying music dim, and they're out of earshot of anyone still in the room.

Javier looks around the empty hallway, then stretches out his hand.

“What did you find?”

Helena places the slim thumb drive in his open palm. 

“Everything you asked for.”

Javier closes his fist around the drive, rubbing his thumb across its surface thoughtfully as he nods, his sharp jaw flexing. 

Helena’s come to know Javier as a relatively quiet man. Most of their conversations are just like this one, consisting of few words and many gestures. 

“Thank you.” His voice is grim when he replies finally.

Helena’s good with computers. In a way that allows her to blur the lines between public and private information.

In places like Spades, to people like Javier, information is invaluable. 

When Helena, a 23 year old grad student, moved to this city, she’d needed money badly. She was more than grateful for the job, but bartending simply didn't cut it, when you factored in school, and the medical expenses her type one diabetes racked up. 

Watching the kind of people that flowed in and out of Spades, from low level drug runners to the most powerful politicians in the state, she’d quickly learned the signs of status, the value of taking in information from all around her, and how and when to use it. 

Javier, with his similar skill of discernment, had quickly taken notice of her, and they soon fell into a simple sort of arrangement. 

Cash, for information. Names, addresses, bank statements, even blueprints like the ones on the flash drive she’d just handed over. The most important part of this arrangement is that, however tempted she may be, she never asked questions, never asked what he needed the information for, who it was going to.

 It kept her from falling in too deep, allowed her to keep what she did at this club in a small compartment of her life, kept her from having to ask herself the tough question of what exactly she’d be willing to do for money.

“He workin’ for you now?” 

It’s likely the reason, when she asks this, Javier stops in his tracks and shoots her a quizzical look.

Helena has been around long enough to have somewhat of an understanding of how Javier operates. He keeps his inner circle tight, and from the looks of things, Armando has managed his way in, in just a few short weeks. She tries to convince herself this is the extent of her curiosity, but Helena doesn’t need to turn her head to know Armando is staring, she never does, and she’s felt his eyes on her for weeks. She wants to know why exactly he’s so interested in her.

 She nods subtly in his direction for Javier’s benefit.

He glances inside, following her lead. 

“Something like that.” He replies, as cryptic and dismissive as ever.  

Helena takes him turning away as a sign the conversation is over and despite the fact that her question remains unanswered, she turns to do the same. She should have known better than to expect a straightforward answer from Javier.  

She’s all the way by her car, after stopping to grab some things from her locker when she stops in her tracks. 

There’s no reason, scientifically at least, that you should be able to feel someone looking at you. 

And yet, inexplicably, when she turns around he’s there.  

Leaning against the back wall of the bar, arms crossed over his chest. 

There’s a beat. Just a moment of the two of them watching each other. Then he stands, nods to the right, and steps out of the light, gradually disappearing in shadow of the rapidly disappearing sun.

She waits until the curiosity overcomes her, before she follows him into the quickly expanding dark. 

[k-marzolf]

Miss Fortune 🌟

Bffs, alcohol, diabetic reader, sexual fantasy, fluff, mentions of spanking, fem.

@e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @kayhi808 @firequeensposts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @milea @thejanecampaign @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @oops89 @fictional-hooman @bookloverfilmoholic @cant-help-simping @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @littleblackcatinwonderland @ittybxttykxttytxtty

“Can I have a quarter?” You asked, rocking back on your feet.

“For a fortune teller arcade? You believe in that nonsense? And don't you have one?” He asked, fishing in his jeans anyway.

“I’m saving up for my rooftop garden, Mister Cynical.” You said teasingly, kissing his cheek as he handed one to you. “It’ll probably never happen but I’m trying.” You leaned down putting the quarter in.

You were saving every dime, nickel, and quarter, for plants. “Why?” He asked, rolling his left shoulder. An unfamiliar ache in his chest. He rubbed it.

“I want something to talk to when you’re gone.” You placed your hand on the glowing crystal ball sensor.

His jaw ticked as he looked out the rainy window, nostrils flaring. Billy was holding back. He wanted to bunch your dress around your hips, and press you against the machine, mouth on yours tasting the Mountain Dew you had that weren’t supposed with your diabetes as he rutted into you shaking the machine, not caring who saw him take you, and god he knew you both would never be allowed back.

But you were a taste of heaven he’d never have.

“Billyyy…” he imagined you whining into his neck, “Wanna kiss you.”

The same words you’d said one summer evening, too many margaritas, your breath smelling like cherries.

He hummed. “If you’re a good girl,” he said, teasing you, sipping his beer.

Your cherry smile had his heart fluttering, as you leaned in. “I’m always good.” You said, pulling your fingers through his hair, making it stick up everywhere.

And then the woman’s voice on the machine brought him back.

He swallowed. Get a grip, Russo.

A week later a cactus sat on your countertop of your tiny apartment in the sun that had finally come out, the note attached to it said; “To Miss Fortune. The beginning of your rooftop garden — Mister Cynical.”

Your lips turned up, eying the cactus like it was a Tiffany necklace.

You named it Princess Leia and Billy laughed, pinching your nose, a warm feeling filled him as you shoved a spoonful of peanut butter in your mouth, cheeks warm as you watched him. “Sure, it is a little spiky like her.” Billy agreed.

“Mhm!” You said enthusiastically. “And you’d be the Wookiee.” You said, just to get a rise out of him.

“I’m taking that wooden spoon and spanking your ass.” Billy growled.

“All talk.” You said airily, watching him making his way over to you, and you squealed, throwing the peanut butter at him, and ran just dodging his arms, and running down the hall.

He never wanted to spend his life with anyone else, other than you and Frank.

Raven and Miss Fortune.

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 6

When you’re done with the bathroom you slowly make your way to the door. Captain is still in the bedroom, when you open the door he’d looked up.

“Alright, food?” He asks and you stare up at him, “you’ve gotta be hungry. It’s almost noon.”

“Oh, um food would be good.” You look past him and out the window. You can’t tell that it’s daytime out there, it’s unnerving.

“Alright, come on up Bunny.” He says holding out his arms before he gently scoops you up. You’re not sure where to look, you can’t look at him but it’s weird looking the way you’re walking. You settle on looking at your knees, the little scar there that you can see from when you were a kid and banged it open on the corner of the stairs.

Steve sets you down back on the counter. The way he so effortlessly carries you around is kind of astonishing.

“What do you want? We have,” he pulls open the fridge and frowns, “some beer. Don’t these animals eat?” He grumbles. “Alright Bunny, what do you want me to order in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too many options.” He murmurs to himself and you’re surprised because that’s exactly what it is. “Okay, do you want Italian or Asian?”

“Italian?”

“Yea, pizza, pasta, that kind of stuff.”

“Italian please.”

“Okay, pasta or pizza?”

“Um, pizza please. Just cheese.” You haven’t eaten in a while so you don’t want to upset your stomach.

“Alright, I’ll get some actual groceries in here for you soon.”

“Okay.” It’s weird that he’s treating you so kindly, after all he did threaten you and kidnap you and is holding you hostage. So maybe he’s not being so kind after all.

“Alright, let’s make a list so that you can have food you like. Do you like to cook?”

“Yes.”

“Anything you need.”

“Where is my stuff?”

“Should be here later.” He says dismissively and it kind of pisses you off. You don’t dare say anything but you do glare at the floor in front of you. “Look at me.” His tone is gentle when he gives the command and you comply. “Oh Bunny.” He says with a grin, “I like seeing some fire from you. What’s got you bothered?”

“I can’t just live here without my shit. I need my phone and some other stuff.”

“You can’t have your phone.”

“Then you have to take me back to my apartment.” He sighs heavily,

“Bunny, we have gone over this. It isn’t happening.”

“I’m diabetic. I need my sensors, reader and medication.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He looks irritated as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t just as easy as snatching a woman out of her bed!” You snap, and he smirks over at you.

“Buck, I have some stuff I need you to get now. No, now.” He looks up at you, “Bunny where’s your stuff?”

“Pens are in the fridge and my pills are in the bathroom in the mirror. The needles and alcohol wipes are in the second drawer in the bathroom and so are the sensors, they’re in boxes. I have some lancets and another sensor in my purse.” You tell him,

“You hear that Buck? Good. I want that here in the next twenty minutes.” He pauses then growls, “No, I’m not fuckin joking. Get it here.” The power of this man is truly stunning, and a little terrifying. You’re starting to feel like he might actually be different than Crossbones, but then you remember his “business” he had to take care of before you went to sleep.

They’re all the same, all sharp edges and violence.

He texts someone else then looks up at you,

“What do you want to do while we wait for food?”

“When did you order?”

“I texted one of the ladies our order. I thought you might like having a woman around.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know he had women, your opinion of him was correct he’s just like Crossbones.

“So, movie? Tv? Reading? Just sitting here in silence looking at one another? What do you want to do?”

“I don’t care.” You say gently, you won’t be fooled by a mob man again.

“I want you to be comfortable here. I know this isn’t where you want to be but if I can at least make you comfortable I will.”

“Oh,”

“You said actions right?” You nod, “so you’ll see. Why don’t we go to the couch, we can eat there too.” He sets you on the couch before dropping down a cushion away. He turns the tv on and starts switching through the channels. There’s a knock on the door and he calls,

“Come in.” So Winter does and he has your supplies. He brings them to you and you pull out what you need to test, you have a feeling that you’re low, you put the lancet in then place it on your finger and push the button. You test your blood sugar and sure enough you’re low, even worse the number is going lower.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” You lie and Steve hums lowly,

“Try again Bunny. The truth this time.”

“I’m low, but it’s fine.”

“What do you need? Juice? Candy?”

“Juice works.” You tell him, “um, apple?” Steve looks at Winter who nods and leaves again.

“Bunny, when it comes to your health you tell me what you need.”

“Yes, Captain. Steve. Sorry.”

“Good girl.” He says and your gaze snaps to his, a slow smirk crosses his face. “I wondered if you might like that.”

“I don’t.” You lie and he chuckles,

“Your eyes tell me different Bunny.” You glare at him and he grins over at you. There’s another knock at the door, this one seems softer, less aggressive than Winter.

“Come in.” The door opens and a pretty red headed woman pushes open the door.

“Hey Cap, you wanted some pizza? Oh, hello.” She says seeing you.

“Hi.”

“Widow, thanks for picking that up.” Steve says and she nods putting the two pizza boxes on the table.

“How are you doing Honey?” She asks but you don’t say anything, instead you glance over at Steve.

“You can talk to her Bunny.”

“I’m fine.” You lie and she looks between you and Steve.

“Cap, out.” She demands,

“But pizza.” He practically whines and you stare at him in absolute shock.

“Oh take the damn thing with you you big baby.” You stare at her in astonishment, she can’t just talk to him like that can she? Steve groans softly but stands from the couch, grabs one of the boxes of pizza and leaves the house.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @vicmc624 @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @sophham

[indouloureux]

I love smut blurbs as much as the next person about eddie but what I love even more is domestic eddie. Like cooking breakfast or dinner together. Running around the grocery store throwing food in the basket just because it looks good. Him coming home from a long exhausting day of work and just rubbing his shoulders and starting his shower for him. Maybe on his days off you guys sleep in and then hop in his van and go for a ride outside of hawkin. Inviting Wayne over for dinner on Sundays and watching them drink beer and bond over cars etc. Listening to him and the dnd club argue over what's happening in the campaign. Idk fluffy domestic eddie really speaks to me on a whole different level.

domestic eddie has my heart, darling.

now, i'm not gonna lie, eddie will be a shit cook at first. but when you came home one time too exhausted, unable to cook bc you were the one who always cooks seeing as he can't cook for shit, he made sure to learn how to.

you'd come home and there's just an entire cooked chicken in the middle of the table. he said that chicken parts confused him and he just bought a whole one and bought a recipe book. to top it off, he made roasted potatoes. they were fucking amazing.

(also, he was clad in a pink, floral apron of yours, hair up in a messy bun, hands covered in oven mitts with tongs in his hand. it's such a sight to see.)

going to the grocery with him is another level. when he was with wayne, his wants were limited. he can only take two of those he wanted because money was short. but when you both got a job and had your own home and started earning adult money, well—

eddie would be pushing the cart, jumping and hopping on it as he moves, would beg constantly to let you buy him the sweet, almost diabetic cereals there is. would chuck in an entire gallon of ice cream, beers of different brands, and just full out processed foods because, lets be honest, sometimes he doesn't eat healthily.

when he comes home from work, exhausted, you'd urge him to lay down on his stomach at the couch, you sitting on his thighs and just cracking his back and he MOANS LIKE A WHORE istfg. but as much as it turns you on, poor baby is tired and you just want to, well, baby him.

get his shower ready, get with him in the tub, relax him with a few strokes down there and an orgasm, before you guys let your eyes go dry from watching endless tv while you cuddle in the sofa.

one thing he loves is roadtrips. you guys would both leave anytime of the day—no clothes, just money and snacks, and drive wherever; listening to music, fucking in the back of his van, kissing the back of your hand as he drives with one hand outside of town. hearing you sing as you kick your feet up the dashboard with the windows down, and he just stares at you like you're the most beautiful human being in existence.

wayne would come over every sunday. always. you guys would drink beer, watch a movie or play board games (queue sore loser eddie playing monopoly) and talk about your childhood while eddie has an arm around you and you just converse with his uncle with a bright smile (eddie thinking right then and there that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you).

the kids would come over too! movie nights with them, sometimes playing dnd and you're just relaxing at the sofa while they yell and argue and just swoon when eddie DMs.

dancing around wherever you want to. he'd sing you songs that aren't metal. turning the radio on and spinning you around in the middle of the kitchen when you're cooking or when it's morning and you're drinking coffee.

helping you paint the walls when you first moved in. having a very messy paint fight—that sometimes would lead to an actual fight on which color of the wall you guys would choose.

CUDDLES WHENEVER YOU WANT TO. in the living room, sitting on his lap when he sits on the kitchen island, in your bedroom. all that shit.

sometimes you both would walk around naked just for the fun of it. because you guys live together. eating while walking, smoking, and while he no longer deals, he still smokes weed with you.

i cant think of anything else. my pinkies had gone numb coedodneoxndoe i love domestic eddie :(

[fennecfiree]

SO MANY HEADCANONS.

(copy and pasting some of my older posts btw)

ALSO! Ask me any of my other headcanons with the ask feature thingy, for example, creek hcs, clyde hcs, or anything like that. ill answer!

Stan: Blue eyes, short black greasy hair ( he never washes his frickin hair ) he has some acne, he's the 2nd tallest in the main 4, he's thin, has earrings, he has a slipknot pin on his hat, and has some eye bags because he never sleeps 😱 he's bisexual ( girl pref ) and Demi boy. He has autism, and asthma. special interest is bored games, he listens to Slipknot, MCR, deftones, Korn, his fav song is Duality. his fav food is m&ms, his fav video game is Roblox, he also plays RimWorld, terrified of snakes, his fav shows are Stranger things, The simpsons, Spongebob, and Rick and morty, cares more for animals than most people, gets annoyed when people talk to much. His phone is full of pictures of Sparky. whenever he's home alone he chugs some of Randy's beer 😭 his phone is always on do not disturb. still keeps in touch with the goth kids. he's very close with Tolkien, which Kyle got mad about since Stan was jealous when Kyle was making tiktoks with Tolkien. he gets B-. Loves horror games and movies and forces kyle to play them with him, paints his nails black. asks for a cat every Christmas, has a Bart Simpson sad pfp ( you know those.. ) really into creepy pastas. he watched TheOddOnesOut, and SomethingElseYT

Kyle: he has olive eyes, really curly short ginger hair, he has braces, and a bigger nose, he's pretty pale and has freckles, the shortest out of the 4, and he's chubby. he's bisexual and asexual ( he ofc found out when he's older ). he has type 1 diabetes (and is really embarrassed about it). anxiety, autism ( his special interest is ocean creatures ) and bad anger issues. he listens to AJR, Green day, The cure, Weezer, The offspring. his fav song is Pretty fly for a white guy. his fav food is stew, and and he drinks monster sometimes. His fav game is Minecraft and Fnaf 1. He's a giant germaphobe, he washes his hands after every time he goes somewhere. he's also scared of gore. he watches Gravity Falls, BfDI. Spongebob, Him and Ike watch Yo gabba gabba together 😭😭 He cant watch horror movies, and cant play scary games. He talks A LOT. He has a handsanitizer bottle on his desk. His favorite holiday is Halloween, he gets A+ most of the time, but sometimes he gets A-. he spends 2 hours doing his hair, he studies really hard, and gets furious if someone else in class gets a higher grade ( its usually Wendy ) he try's to draw good, and thinks he does, but its very poorly drawn cartoon drawings with detailed eyes. he try's to straighten his hair but it just looks very weird, and it made him sad 😓HIM AND STAN WATCH SPONGEBOB TOGETHER AND THEY LOAD UP ON EVERYSINGLE SNACK. he's insecure about his looks. he looks up to his dad a lot, he cry's when his teachers don't respond to him putting up his hand 😭. doesn't notice when he's raising his voice. sleeps with his orca whale plushie 😎 He watches Markiplier, Flamingo, and LS Mark.

Cartman: 1 brown eye, 1 blue eye, short light brown messy hair, he has long eyelashes and some acne, he has a tooth gap, he's the tallest of the 4, and ofc he's a fatass 😭 he's gay, lactose intolerant and has heterochromia (left is brown, right is blue) He listens to Lady gaga, Britney spears, Taylor swift. and his fav song is Poker face. His fav food is Cheesy Poofs, and Pancakes. His fav game is Happy wheels and People playground. he has Trypanophobia. He watches Saw, The Human Centipede, and Happy tree friends. when he plays Minecraft with people he refuses to share a house with someone cuz it's gay, he scams kids in Roblox adopt me. Him and Shelly play smash or pass together with celebrities 😭 he has a Instagram account for Mr Kitty. He's an iPad kid 🤪🤪🤪🤪 goes on Omegle (let's pretend it's still up) and pretends to be a girl. Has an account on Twitter just for making fun of Kyle, listens to true crime. Collects stickers 😊😊 begs his mom to give him robux, he also has another Twitter account that's a Stan account for lady Gaga. Terrified of Wendy 😭😲 the coon is his fursona, he also pretends that he hates furrys but secretly is one 😭 Gets C-. reddit user.. says "MY CONTROLLER BROKE" when he loses a game, he's fluent in German. He's really smart, sometimes even smarter than Kyle, but doesn't care to use it for good, he just uses it for asshole shit. Sleeps with all 10000 of his stuffed animals. he hates fathers day. he watches Trisha paytas, ishowspeed, and shane dawson. 😭😭

Kenny: Blue eyes, messy blonde hair, he has a tooth gap, and his clothes are really dirty, he's the 2nd shortest of the 4, and he's pretty skinny, he's pansexual and genderfluid. he listens to Cardi B, Gorillaz, Vengaboys. and his fav song is Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!! his fav food is Grilled cheese. His fav game is DDLC and FNF (he plays on butters pc) He watches Pokemon, MPL ( originally Karen forced him to watch it but he kinda likes it LMAO ) and Sailor moon. he falls asleep in class a lot. He gets B+. therapist friend, zones out a lot. He sometimes comes to school with pigtails that Karen gave him. He never fights with his siblings. Stan always gives him some of his school lunch. his clothes are covered in holes and stains. he loves playing truth or dare and always picks dare. he loves birthday party's and always take a ton of food to bring to his family. he wants a pet rat so bad. he likes Stan the best out of the main 4, he sometimes finds Kyle super annoying and cartman... well its cartman.. goes outside and burns pieces of paper for fun. he watches Mr Beast ( he comments on every video "please help me") Gawr Gura, Ironmouse, and Pokimane.

Butters: Blue eyes, very short blonde hair, a scar on his right eye. he's the same height as Kenny, slim, has a couple freckles but not NEARLY as much as Kyle 😨he's Bisexual. He has PTSD. He listens to BTS, Disney songs, his fav song is Butter 🙀 His fav food is Ice cream ( strawberry ) His fav game is Hello Kitty Island Adventure, and Roblox. He watches Hello kitty (ofc) MLP ( him and Kenny watch it together) and Spongebob. He loves pastel colors. VERY bad memory, likes the taste of milk, Bites his nails, He still has the Marjorine clothes and likes to dance around in them, HIM AND BRADLEY ARE PEN PALS. Has to sing the ABCs to know the placements Gets A-. He also cant watch horror movies or play scary games like Kyle. He starts celebrating Christmas in October. watches those boys vrs girls gacha life music videos. USES THOSE VERY CURLY STRAWS IN CHOCOLOTE MILK AND BLOWS BUBBLES IN THEM!!! He's an art kid. He watches DanTDM, and Stampy

PLEASE DONT FLOP THIS TOOK 5 DAYS

[ask-sibverse]

T1D Reader- Halloween Party (Bad Sanses X Reader)

I was hoping to get this out yesterday but shit happens. Halloween costume probably looks like this. Honestly while doing Killer and Horror is so much fun, this time it's Dust's turn.

Note to self: never underestimate Killer's persistence. When that skeleton wants something he can be incredibly stubborn about it.

And what he wanted was for everyone to get a "day off" to celebrate Halloween. Why? You weren't sure at first until you noticed all the sexy costumes pulled up on his computer.

Note to self: never underestimate Killer's persistence. When that skeleton wants something he can be incredibly stubborn about it.

And what he wanted was for everyone to get a "day off" to celebrate Halloween. Why? You weren't sure at first until you noticed all the sexy costumes pulled up on his computer.

But you agreed to come along, if only to keep Killer out of trouble. Cross seemed to agree for a similar reason, although you weren't sure why Dust came along. Horror was staying home, which made sense. A party would probably be hell on his sensory issues.

Killer somehow managed to talk you into a fairly revealing "witch costume." You were just hoping it wouldn't be too cold in the AU you were going to, although Killer probably wouldn't register it was too cold for you.

Lazy ass usual, Dust was just using his knife as a "serial killer" costume. Killer used one of those axe headbands and (probably, hopefully) fake blood to be a "murder victim." Killer, asshole that he is, picked out a cow costume for Cross that was *immediately* denied, and the former royal guard ended up wearing a soldier costume instead that Killer complained was "so boring."

You all went to a surface AU, obviously, because monsters underground did not know about or celebrate Halloween (honestly you wondered if some monsters found the holiday insensitive.) A neutral AU, one with some tension between monsters and humans, but nothing so bad a couple monsters couldn't attend a Halloween party.

Once arriving you remembered one reason you never went to parties- alcohol. You never drank, couldn't figure out how to manage it and your diabetes. You'd heard how you behaved low was how you would act while drunk, but different sources said to bolus for it or not bolus. Some said you'd spike, others said you'd drop, it was just too unpredictable for your tastes and not worth the risks. Killer respected that, sort of, after telling him "no" several times. You... Really couldn't tell if Killer was *actually* drink or just liked acting drunk. Dust seemed to have a beer or two himself while Cross was with you in the "100% sober" category.

At least the food was good. The host had fun making "spooky" snacks that were still recognizable enough for you to dose correctly. At least it was human food, monster food still needed a whole other layer of guesstimating.

Somewhere later into the night you grabbed Dust and dragged him into a dance. Maybe the atmosphere, maybe your outfit, but something had you tired of being a wallflower and wanting to *do* something. You weren't an amazing dancer but you were at least coordinated enough to avoid tripping over yourself or Dust. It wasn't a Dancetale so your skills weren't that important anyways.

It wasn't long before Dust's face was flushed, whether from exertion or something else you weren't sure. The skeleton often kept to distance attacks in fights and teleported everywhere, so you weren't sure.

Even still, seeing him blushing made you feel... Something. You were *definitely* feeling bold tonight because before you knew it, you leaned in and kissed him.

You've kissed other humans before, but kissing a skeleton was such an incredibly different experience. Despite your lips being pressed directly to teeth, it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Honestly, it felt amazing, even more so when Dust's mouth opened slightly and oh stars okay ecto tongues felt *great.*

You both ended up off the dance floor for a rather steamy and handsy makeout session that had both of you flushed and panting afterwards. Dust grinned at you. "Wanna continue this back in my room?" You nodded eagerly.

Dust got Cross to tear a portal home for you both, although he was staying behind to make sure Killer got home eventually.

The two of you barely made it to Dust's room before he was making out with you again, tearing at your clothes with a passion and energy you hadn't seen in the lazy skeleton before. Honestly, sex with him was incredible.

And totally worth the look you got from Nightmare the next day. And the teasing from Killer.

(I know you guys probably want the sexy times, but honestly diabetes + sex is something I had planned for it's own one shot, so pls be patient. If you have any prompts or ideas for T1D, shoot me an ask!)

[thezombieprostitute]

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 4 - Bets & warnings

A/N: Continued from Part 3. Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Food scarcity, hunger, mentions of families being separated. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1-- --Part 5--

--Series Masterlist--

“He’s not interested in me,” Y/N tells Jake as they cuddle up on her couch. “He’s going to come back for our next date and tell me he’s not interested. I know it.”

“You don’t know that,”Jake reassures. “He could just need some time to think. You said yourself that he talked about feeling like a fish out of water more than once.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not interested. I don’t have the highest accuracy of predictions for nothing.” Y/N sighs and pushes to prop herself up. “Maybe the other Omegas are right. Maybe I’m just too boring. Too plain vanilla.”

Jake squeezes Y/N tightly, not letting her escape, “I keep telling you not to listen to them. They’re jealous idiots who just don’t appreciate the kindness and gentleness your scent embodies. Their scents clash with everything around them but vanilla goes with everything. And that’s how you’re able to pick up on stuff they can’t. Your scent works with the people you question, letting them relax more around you, which gets you an even better idea of their true scent. Your empathy is not a weakness, no matter what those assholes say.”

“I know how the mechanics of it work, Jake.” Y/N tries to pull away to pout but he holds her close. “And I know it helps others to be accurate with scents. But…it’s…It gets painfully lonely to be pushed away by others of “your kind”. I love having you as a friend, Jake, but with you as my only friend, it’s a lot of pressure on you. I know you’re stressed out, but still smiling at me. I appreciate the effort but you shouldn’t be the only one supporting me.”

“And when you get your Alpha, I won’t be.” Y/N gives Jake an incredulous look as he continues. “Seriously, you doubt but I’m certain Curtis will be back and, as he learns more about you, he’ll fall desperately, madly in love with you and you’ll have both your Emotional Support Beta and your Alpha Mate!”

“I do appreciate the optimism, Jake but it just isn’t going to happen. At least not with Curtis. Maybe that other Alpha will work out better. So long as I don’t have to do any more of those scent tests.”

“I’ll make you a deal. If Curtis turns you down, I’ll cook up that 5-cheese mac-n-cheese you love so much. If he ends up agreeing to be your mate, you gotta bake me up that death-by-chocolate cake that almost put me into a diabetic coma.”

Y/N chuckles and decides to up the ante. “Add barbecue chicken strips to that mac-n-cheese meal and I’ll add homemade chocolate whipped cream to the cake.”

“Deal!”

It’d been a couple days since the date and the benefits of the full stomach and foot massage had already faded. Curtis felt the pain in his stomach again and every step was pain yet again. Y/N’s cookies were already gone, courtesy of the pups, but he couldn’t blame them. They generally couldn’t afford such calorie dense, sweet foods. He did hope that Y/N’s promise of more ration packs for his nutritional needs would hold true, though it was way too soon to tell. Hopefully his refutation of her courting wouldn’t affect her promise. 

After only a few hours of work Curtis caught a whiff of someone. Curry. Warm, strong beer. Hobie. “What do you want, Hobie? I’m working.”

“From what I heard, you’ve been gettin’ it on with a Pet.” Hobie stepped into Curtis’s view. 

“I’ll be seeing her again tomorrow and telling her I’m not interested. She gave me the out, I’m taking it.”

“Ya don’ wanna do that,” Hobie whispers. “I got it on good authority, you’re gonna wanna take her up on the offer.”

Curtis stops what he’s doing so he can turn to Hobie. He sees the man is dead serious. “What do you mean?”

Without speaking, Hobie hands Curtis a small pouch with some fabric inside. Eyes not leaving Hobie, Curtis opens it and gets the scent. Stevie! His brother’s scent, and fresh! 

Hobie sees the recognition on Curtis’s face, “that’s right, bruv is alive. Been ‘elping us out against The Man.”

“And what’s that got to do with me? I can’t rescue him. Probably can’t see him even if I do accept the offer.”

“We got ya covered there,” Hobie grins. “Stevie’s been ‘olding off the next phase of our plan. Wants to make sure ‘is Pack is protected first. That’s where you come in. Stevie made sure to get your scent added to ev’ry Pet’s list of potential mates, waitin’ for one to choose you. You wanna protect your Pack? Keep ‘em outta harm’s way from The Man and The Revolution? You agree to the Pet’s terms.”

Curtis stared at the fabric for a bit, cementing the scent in his mind. When he looked back up, Hobie was gone. How he had the ability to both draw attention and go invisible was Curtis would never understand. When he saw the security drone coming towards him, he hid the fabric in his pocket and went back to work. He was going to have to have another Pack meeting before tomorrow and he was not looking forward to it.

After the pups had gone to bed for the night, Curtis sat down with Andrew and Tanya. He handed them the pouch without saying anything and watched the recognition grow in their faces as they caught the scent. 

“Oh. Oh no,” Tanya whispered as she looked at Curtis. “You’re going to leave us, aren’t you?”

“Not until I get more evidence of Hobie’s claims,” Curtis whispered. “It’s one thing to know he’s alive, it’s another to know…” He cuts himself off. The less information his Pack has about the revolution’s plans (hypothetical or otherwise) the better.

Andrew looks at Curtis, “he’s your brother. Pack by blood. You know we’ll respect that.”

Curtis nods. It’s an uneasy night of sleep for all of them.

--Part 5--

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.

[insomniamamma]

Hi, J! How about your top 6 beverages?

Ezra tax as a bribe *COUGH* I mean, a thank you 😉

Thanks for asking!

Gin with selzter water and basil simple syrup. This is my go to.

Diet Dr. Pepper. Need at least one a day to function and it has to be diet. The full sugar stuff makes my teeth feel gross.

Beer. I fuckin love beer, but I'm picky about it. I love a good hefewiesen (spelling?), sour beers and wheat beers. I HATE IPAS THOUGH! It's like deep throating a tin can!

Green tea. Especially cold. Unsweetened please and thank you.

Good bourbon. I love the smell and the way the taste changes as you drink. I like the complexity.

Dunkin Donuts coffee. Extra cream Extra sugar. It's like sucking down vaguely coffee flavored candy. I currently live in a Dunkin Desert, so i miss my screaming hot styrofoam cup of diabetes.

[callsignspirit]

come back home | j.h.s. | chapter one

a/n - devil works fast but i write faster, introducing a purple hearts au!! thought this could be fun to write! let me know if you guys want more i.b. purple hearts obviously

tw - men being gross, jake being a DICK but it’s okay we can change him ;)

caitlyn tapped her pen against the bars railings. she was in the process of writing a new song, or trying to at least. she was debating going over to the piano to try and work on a tune but her train of thought was interrupted by penny’s words.

“if you want a share of the tip pot you’ll have to help me wipe down these counters” she spoke, tossing cait a spray bottle and a cloth.

sighing, she sprung into action, cleaning the sticky beer residue off the wooden counter tops and gently humming a tune to an unfinished song.

the bar was practically empty, only a few early patrons milling around waiting for the crowds to come flooding in. the godforsaken crowds. filled with fresh aviators ready to go on their first deployment.

she spent the next hour doing odd jobs for penny, restocking the bottles, checking the celler and dusting the piano even though it was never out of use long to collect dust between cait's song writing and the playing of popular naval anthems.

the bell rang on the door as 7 or 8 fresh faced aviators strutted through the entrance, joshing around and hitting each other in the arm playfully.

"oh god," cait complained, throwing her head back in protest, penny remarked some comment about how the aviators were her new best friends.

however through the crowd, a familiar face spotted cait as the bar. "hey stranger!" he called, pushing his way past the men.

"bradley!" cait excitedly shrieked, leaving the middle of the bar to throw her arms around him. she slapped his chest, "i missed you!"

he laughed at her, "i've missed you too caitie." the pair had grown up together, bradley occasionally babysitting cait, despite their small age difference. she was there for him when his mom died, when pete pulled his papers and he was there for her when her dad walked out, leaving cait and her mom alone.

she stroked his face, "what's with this mustache? i am not okay with this!" she giggled. although she was enjoying catching up with bradley, she could feel the eyes of his friends on her, on her body. "well, introduced me to your squadron!"

he went through the names, introducing each member as his friend, she could see their toxic masculinity practically seeping through their pores. cait took their orders and walked back to the bar, collecting the various drinks and arranging them on the tray.

when she looked over to group, she saw bradley harshly scolding "berlin”, one of the younger pilots, shaking his head in disapproval. she hoped that whatever dispute was going on between the two wouldn’t affect their deployment.

she made her way over to the table and she set the drinks down pushing them towards their respective owners.

“so we’re good enough to fight for your ass, but not touch it?” berlin spoke up, striking silence into the other men. clearly bradley had told them her ‘no military men’ rule.

“excuse me?” cait challenged, raising her eyebrow. she decided instead of causing a scene to just walk away.

rolling her eyes, she worked on serving other customers, making small talk and chatting with them about their day. she uncapped beer bottles and stuffed the lids in her pocket, a habit she had picked up from her first night, now, at home she had a small collection.

her heeled boots clicked along the floor as she made her way to the back, penny suggested a few minutes break to cool off and to drink some glucose gel to raise her blood sugar. dealing with diabetes was hard but it was that much when some man tried to hit on her.

after a few minutes she had calmed down and was ready to serve again, she led the storage room to find “hangman” standing at the bar.

“i just want to apologise for our friend,” he said, “he’s a bit… my names jake, what’s yours?” he offered his hand out to cait, almost as a peace offering. she turned the other way walking to the opposite side of the bar, but jake was relentless.

“don’t think i don’t know your type.” he stated bluntly.

“my type?” cait asked, genuinely interested as to what group this man would brand her into.

“yeah, the girl who drives a lexus and probably has a million different flags hanging from her windowsill in support, but when it actually comes down to fighting for those groups, you’re no where to be seen! cause ‘guns and bombs are mean’ and you’re a pacifist”

“i’m sorry do you have a phd in mansplaining?”

“i guess it’s our job to fight for you!” he cut her off, “you know what i bet you even have a little peace dove tattooed on your back!”

“actually it’s on my ass, which you can’t touch but you can kiss!” she argued, walking off yet again to the other side of the bar to escape him.

jake looked over to the group and saw them mimicking explosions and laughing at him.

[eva-knits12]

Thanksgiving with Chris Evans characters.

Steve Rogers:

Steve has never had a modern Thanksgiving, thanks to him being in the ice for so long.

He's impressed by a modern Thanksgiving.

Some foods confuse him.

What's a tofurkey?

is it some kind of weird food?

You explain that a tofurkey is for vegans.

Steve has NEVER heard of a vegan Thanksgiving.

Remember, veganism wasn't a thing when Steve was growing up in the 1920's and 1930's.

Thanksgiving doesn't feel complete without Bucky and Sam.

Sam brings his famous candied yams, which is really a family recipe.

Bucky brings his family's famous cranberry relish.

Your stuck cooking the meal while the boys watch the Lions and the Packers.

(I live in the Detroit area, and trust me, that game is HUGE around here, since the Detroit Lions actually started this tradition.)

You wanted to cook the meal with Steve, but with Bucky and Sam, that plan went out the window.

At least you can have wine while you cook the meal, so there's that.

The boys are drinking Sam Adams Oktoberfest while watching the football game.

Eventually, the dinner is finally ready, and everyone digs in-after Steve says the blessing.

Dessert is pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream.

The dinner is eaten, and after the game, and after dinner, everyone plays Monopoly and Scrabble.

Beer and wine are drunk during both games.

You and Steve spend the next day watching movies in bed.

Screw going out on Black Friday.

Black Friday also confuses Steve, seeing as how Black Friday is a more recent thing.

Cyber Monday also confuses Steve.

Luckily, you and Steve have a whole DVR full of movies, so the computer, phones, and tablets are turned off from Thanksgiving to Sunday.

Thanksgiving is great.

Colin Shea:

Colin and Eva decide to just have a low key Thanksgiving at their house.

As much as it as about family and football, Colin and Eva just want to have a nice, chill Thanksgiving dinner at their apartment.

Which is good for the both of them, because Eva's having her period right now, feels crampy and bloated, and just wants to chill in bed or on the couch.

Colin and Eva sip wine and are cooking the turkey. The sides will be instant stuffing and instant mashed potatoes.

Along with ready bake rolls.

Colin cooks the dinner while Eva sleeps on the couch.

Colin sees and carries Eva bridal style back to the bedroom, and places her on the bed, then put the covers over her.

Colin cooks the rest of the meal, and then wakes Eva.

The dinner looks amazing and smells amazing.

Eva forgot about her cramps.

The meal is eaten, and the wine is drunk.

Colin and Eva have pumpkin chocolate cake for dessert.

Colin and Eva brush their teeth and fall asleep that night.

Andy Barber:

Andy usually cooks the meal.

He always cooked the meal, but when he was still married to Laurie, Laurie and Jacob just didn't care.

With you, it's different.

You, Joy, and Penelope are usually in your PJ's, curled up on the couch, and watching movies while Andy cooks.

You're checking your sugar, and Andy brings you snacks, and water and juice.

Andy LOVES cooking the Thanksgiving meal.

He LOVES cooking, period.

You and Joy drink water, while Andy drinks wine.

Penelope is happily sleeping in her infant swing.

You've already fed and burped her.

Joy loves the turkey, the green bean casserole, the cranberry sauce, and the rolls.

Penelope loves your milk.

For dessert, Andy made you a small pumpkin pie for dessert that's diabetic friendly.

You, Andy, Joy, and Penelope watch A Christmas Story and The Polar Express.

You and the girls fall asleep after The Polar Express is over.

Andy carries Penelope and puts her in her crib.

Andy carries Joy, and then helps her pee, brush her teeth, then carries her to bed, and tucks her in.

Andy reads The Polar Express to Joy.

Andy checks your Dexcom, and wakes you up.

Your sugar is really low, so Andy gives you a glass of juice and a granola bar.

He then checks your Dexcom again, and your sugar is back to normal.

Andy makes sure you check your Dexcom before going to sleep.

Andy and you both fall asleep.

Jake Jensen:

Thanksgivng? More like Gamesgiving.

You cook the entire meal, while Jake is busy playing video games.

But, you'll make up for it later when you binge watch all the Star Wars and Marvel movies this weekend.

Maybe that's too big a plan?

Nah, Christmas will be for watching Dr. Who and Harry Potter.

"Dinner already smells good, honey bun."

You are smiling while you're cooking, and sipping wine.

Okay, you're sipping it from the bottle, but still.

Since Jake proposed on your birthday, you can't wait to make the announcement to both his and your family.

Jake's niece and sister arrive, along with your brother and his family.

Jake's niece and your nephew are busy kicking the soccer ball that his niece brought outside.

The rest of the adults-with the exception of Jake-are watching the football game.

The dinner is finally cooked, and you and Jake announce that you're engaged.

The rest of the dinner goes by in a blur.

You and Jake go to sleep after everyone leaves.

Johnny Storm:

Johnny is on his best behavior.

He went from bad boy to becoming an adult since he met you.

He wants to make a good impression with your parents, since you're going home for the first time in a year.

Johnny is coming with you, and this is the first time he's meeting your family.

Johnny went to the local Kroger's and got wine, and even got flowers from a local florist.

You look at your engagement ring, and realize that you made the right choice.

Johnny has grown up a lot.

At dinner, you and Johnny announce the engagement, and that you're planning the wedding at Disney.

You announce that you got engaged at Disney.

Johnny wants to watch the game with your dad and your uncles, but your mom and your aunts kidnap him, and have to know every single detail.

You and Johnny tell the story of how Johnny put you on a scavenger hunt at Disney, and how you were given a clue from each character that lead you to Cinderella's castle.

A fun time is had by all.

Your cousin's kid want to play with Johnny.

You go back to New York on Monday.

Thanksgiving was great, and low key.

[nevermindtheweights]

I just cant this scenario out of my head with Dragon maid: Tohru notices Kobayashi likes beer, so she encourages her to drink, always stocks it and always offers it. Kobayashi slowly debelops a beer gut, then she starts eating alongside drinking as an habit that Tohru force bruted into her, but greasy food only as it absorbs alcohol better. Tohru also loves to see Kobayashi getting fatter because as a concequence of it she goes out less and spends more time with her ....basically slowly but surely making Kobayashi a diabetic, alcoholic blob just to be always together...Or as long as Tohru manages to keep Kobayashi alive for with all those health issues

Quite the interesting scenario, i'll give you that!

A little heavy on the health issues for myself, i prefer more mild stuff. I find diabetic stuff a little uncomfortable, perhaps due to my lack of knowledge in that regard.... but the idea as a whole is pretty good! I like it!

Anything with Kobayashi is always a win!